’Tenty stayed a long time at Mrs. Parker’s that summer; she seemed to get on so slowly with her work, but, as Mrs. Parker said,—­

“Why, the fact of it is, ’Tenty is so handy and so spry, I can’t see how to spare her.  Ed’ard, he wants a sight of waitin’ on; and I am so nervous, and husband is afflicted with neuralogy, beside that he is considerable in years, so we can’t be around as we used to be; and ’Tenty steps about and gets Ed’ard his books, and his victuals, and fixes his pillows, and keeps the light out of his eyes, so’t he isn’t contented a moment of time without she’s right there.”

And while Mrs. Parker was conveying these ideas to Miss ’Viny, they were being illustrated in her own house after this fashion:—­

“’Tenty,” (three weeks had abolished the Miss,) “won’t you give me that blue book off the shelf?”

’Tenty sprang up and handed the book, and went to her work again, beginning under her breath to hum

  “Sweet fields beyond”——­

“Dear me! this pillow has slipped away.  ’Tenty, won’t you fix it?”

Jump the second;—­the pillow is put straight under Ned’s dark curls, though he is so helpless she has to raise his head with one arm and arrange the cushion with the other; then the seam and hymn recommence.

  “Sweet fields beyond the swelling”—–­

“I wish I had a drink of cold water.”

Jump the third;—­’Tenty finishes her hymn on the way to the well, and brings the water, and holds the invalid up to drink it, and then the pillows fall again, and the book slips down, and everything goes wrong and has to be re-arranged, and at length ’Tenty goes back to her place by the window quite indisposed to sing, but glowing with a new, shy pleasure, for Ned had looked up at her with those great gray eyes that said so much more than his lips did, and laid his cheek against the stubbed hand that arranged his pillows, and said,—­“Oh, ’Tenty! how good you are!” in tones that meant, “and how I love you!” as well, though he did not say it.

So matters progressed from day to day, Ned needing more and more care, till he made his first progress across the room with a cane and the help of ’Tenty’s shoulder; after which experiment he began to recover rapidly, impelled by the prospect of getting away from that house and being free to go where he chose again.

For ’Tenty had ceased to amuse or interest him as much as she had done; six weeks had done away with the novelty of her deepening color and shy dropping eyes; beside, she laughed less, almost ceased to sing, sighed softly, and looked quiet and grave, instead of gay and unconscious.  It was the old fable of sport to the boys and death to the frogs.  She thought he was in earnest; he knew he was amusing himself.

Miss ’Viny noticed the change in her darling, but she was a woman who had acquired wisdom by experience, and she said nothing; she only grew more exacting of ’Tenty’s presence, wanted her earlier in the evening, found fault with her food, and behaved generally so unlike her usual stern patience, that Content was really roused out of her dreaminess to wonder what ailed Aunt ’Viny.