"In that case she won't be disturbed by our selling it."
"No, I should think not; but it's hard to tell how Rachel will take anything."
This remark was amply verified.
The sofa was removed while the spinster was out, and without any hint to her of what was going to happen. When she returned, she looked around for it with surprise.
"Where's the sofy?" she asked.
"We've sold it to Mrs. Stoddard," said Mrs. Harding, cheerfully.
"Sold it!" echoed Rachel, dolefully.
"Yes; we felt that we didn't need it, and we did need money. She offered me fifteen dollars for it, and I accepted."
Rachel sat down in a rocking-chair, and began straightway to show signs of great depression of spirits.
"Life's full of disappointments!" she groaned. "Our paths is continually beset by 'em. There's that sofa. It's so pleasant to have one in the house when a body's sick. But, there, it's gone, and if I happen to get down, as most likely I shall, for I've got a bad feeling in my stummick this very minute, I shall have to go upstairs, and most likely catch my death of cold, and that will be the end of me."