A noisy crowd of sparrows settled on the bare branches over the door-step, twittering as if they expected the supper of bread-crumbs which girlish hands had been wont to throw them, and at last flew away disappointed. In the old house opposite, Miss Miranda sat in her high-backed chair, knitting as fiercely as ever, while Miss Jane was at her post by the window, drearily watching the sun go down.
She turned away with the glow of a new thought in her wrinkled face. “Mi-randy!” called she, sharply.
No answer but the sharp click of knitting-needles.
“Mirandy Sawyer! What do you say to invitin' our niece, Hannah, down here from the farm, and givin' her a couple of terms' schoolin'? Aurelia has her hands full raisin' that great family of children. She'd be glad one of 'em should have some advantages. We ain't seen Hannah since she was ten, but she was a nice appearin', pretty behavin' girl.”
Miranda glanced ont of the window without speaking.
“It seems like a streak of sunshine had gone out o' the place with them young creeters, and I think we've lived here alone about long enough!” continued Miss Jane. “I should like to give one girl a chance of being a brighter, livelier woman than I am. Yes, you may drop your knittin', Mirandy, but you know it as well as I do!”
No wonder that Miss Miranda looked very much as if she had been struck by lightning; the more wonder that the quiet old house didn't shake to its foundation, when this proposal was made. Indeed, old Tabby, on the hearth-rug, did wake up, startled, no doubt by the consciousness that a child's hand might pull her tail in days to come.
“It does seem dreadful lonesome,” Miss Miranda agreed, after a long pause. “Hear Topsy howling in the kitchen; she's missin' the young life that's gone, and she'll have to git used to us all over again, jest as I said. Hannah would be considerable expense to us, and make a sight o' work, too. Of course, you've thought o' that?”
“We take about so many steps, anyway,” argued Miss Jane, “and if the child's spry and handy, she may save us a few now and then. Tabitha ain't so much care, nor near so confinin', sence Topsy came to keep her comp'ny—even two cats is better'n one.”
“There goes Emma Jane Perkins,” exclaimed Miss Miranda, from her post of observation. “She looks different somehow. I've always said I should think her face would ache, it's so hombly, but I guess she's passed her hombliest, and is going to improve. Mebbe Mis' Perkins has been givin' her spring medicine.”