“If you are willing, Aunt Sarah, I should like to make some pretty green and brown cretonne slips to cover those square sofa pillows in place of the ones made of small pieces of puffed silk and the one of colored pieces of cashmere in log cabin design, I do admire big, fat, plain, comfortable pillows, for use instead of show.  And we must have a waste paper basket near the table beside Uncle John’s chair.  I shall contribute green satin ribbon for an immense bow on the side of the basket.  Oh!  Aunt Sarah!  You’ve forgotten all about this odd, woven basket, beside the what-not, filled with sea shells.  I don’t care for the shells, but the basket would make a lovely sewing basket.”

“You may have the basket, Mary, if you like it.  It came from Panama, or perhaps it was bought at Aspinwall by John’s Uncle, many years ago, when he came home on a visit from California, by way of the Isthmus, to visit old friends and relatives.  John’s Mother always kept it standing on the floor in one corner of the room beside the what-not.”

“Aunt Sarah, why was straw ever put under this carpet?”

“The straw was put there, my dear, to save the carpet, should the boards on the floor be uneven.  My Mother was always particular about having cut rye straw, because it was softer and finer than any other.  It was always used in those days instead of the carpet linings we now have.  I remember sometimes, when the carpet had been newly laid, in our home, immediately after house cleaning time, the surface of the floor looked very odd; full of bumps and raised places in spots, until frequent walking over it flattened down the straw.  This room happens to have a particularly good, even floor, as this part of the house was built many years later than the original, old farm house, else it would not do to have it painted.”

“Aunt Sarah, may I have the old spinning wheel in the attic?  I’d love to furnish an old Colonial bedroom when I have a home of my very own.  I’ll use the rag carpet you made me for the floor, the old-fashioned, high-post bed Uncle John said I might have, and the ‘New Colonial’ rugs you taught me to make.

“Yes, my dear, and there is another old grandfather’s clock in the attic which you may have; and a high-boy also, for which I have no particular use.”

“Aunt Sarah, we shall not put away this really beautiful old sampler worked in silk by Uncle John’s grandmother when a girl of nine years.  It is beautifully done, and is wonderful, I think.  And what is this small frame containing a yellowed piece of paper cut in intricate designs, presumably with scissors?”

“Look on the back of the picture and see what is written there, my dear,” said her Aunt.

Mary slowly read:  “’This is the only picture I owned before my marriage.  I earned the money to buy it by gathering wheat heads.’”

“It belonged to my grandmother,” said Aunt Sarah.  “In old times, after the reapers had left the field, the children were allowed to gather up the wheat remaining, and, I suppose, grandmother bought this picture with the money she earned herself, and considered it quite a work of art in her day.  It is over one hundred years old.”