“In Worcester, ma’am.  He keeps a store there,” answered Betsy, who was going to say more, when her mother, re-entering the room, took up the conversation by saying, “Was you tellin’ ’em about George Washington?  Waal, he’s a boy no mother need to be ashamed on, though my old man sometimes says he’s ashamed of us, we are so different.  But, then, he orto consider the advantages he’s had.  We only brung him up till he was ten years old, and then an uncle he was named after took him and gin him a college schoolin’, and then put him into his store in Worcester.  Your head aches wus, don’t it?  Poor thing!  The pennyr’yal will be steeped directly,” she added, in an aside to Madam Conway, who had groaned aloud as if in pain.  Then resuming her story, she continued, “Better’n six year ago Uncle George, who was a bachelor, died, leaving the heft of his property, seventy-five thousand dollars or more, to my son, who is now top of the heap in the store, and worth one hundred thousand dollars, I presume; some say two hundred thousand dollars; but that’s the way some folks have of agitatin’ things.”

“Is he married?” asked Maggie, and Mrs. Douglas, mistaking the motive which prompted the question, answered:  “Yes, dear, he is.  If he wan’t, I know of no darter-in-law I’d as soon have as you.  I don’t believe in finding fault with my son’s wife; but there’s a proud look in her face I don’t like.  This is her picter,” and she passed to Maggie the daguerreotype of Theo.

“I’ve looked at it before,” said Maggie; and the good woman proceeded:  “I hain’t seen her yet; but he’s going to bring her to Charlton bime-by.  He’s a good boy, George is, free as water—­gave me this carpet, the sofy and chair, and has paid Betsy Jane’s schoolin’ one winter at Leicester.  But Betsy don’t take to books much.  She’s more like me, her father says.  They had a big party for George last night, but I wan’t invited.  Shouldn’t ‘a’ gone if I had been; but for all that a body don’t want to be slighted, even if they don’t belong to the quality.  If I’m good enough to be George’s mother I’m good enough to go to a party with his wife.  But she wan’t to blame, and I shan’t lay it up against her.  I shall see her to-morrow, pretty likely, for Sam Babbit’s wife and I are goin’ down to the firemen’s muster.  You’ve heard on’t, I suppose.  The different engines are goin’ to see which will shute water the highest over a 180-foot pole.  I wouldn’t miss goin’ for anything, and of course I shall call on Theodoshy.  I calkerlate to like her, and when they go to housekeepin’ I’ve got a hull chest full of sheets and piller-biers and towels I’m goin’ to give her, besides three or four bedquilts I pieced myself, two in herrin’-bone pattern, and one in risin’ sun.  I’ll show ’em to you,” and leaving the room, she soon returned with three patchwork quilts, wherein were all possible shades of color, red and yellow predominating, and in one the “rising sun” forming a huge centerpiece.