In a short time Mrs. Perkins disappeared from the room, and Sally’s little bright eyes, which saw every thing, soon spied her out in the woodshed asking Mr. Parker “if Polly Grundy couldn’t be kept in the kitchen where she belonged.”

Scarcely had she left the shed when Miss Grundy herself appeared, fretting about “the meddlesome old widow who had come there stickin’ round before Mrs. Parker was hardly cold!”

This put a new idea into Sally’s head, and the whole household was startled as she broke out singing, “the loss of one is the gain of another,” and so forth.  Mrs. Perkins proposed that she should be shut up, but Miss Grundy, for once in Sally’s favor, declared “she’d fight, before such a thing should be done;” whereupon Mrs. Perkins lamented that the house had now “no head,” wondering how poor Mr. Parker would get along with “such an unmanageable crew.”

Numerous were the ways with which the widow sought to comfort the widower, assuring him “that she ached for him clear to her heart’s core! and I know how to pity you, too,” said she, “for when my Hezekiah died I thought I couldn’t stand it.”  Then by way of administering further consolation, she added that “the wust was to come, for only them that had tried it knew how lonesome it was to live on day after day, and night after night, week in and week out, without any husband or wife.”

Mr. Parker probably appreciated her kindness, for when after the funeral the following day she announced her intention of walking home, he ordered Mike to “tackle up,” and carry her.  This was hardly in accordance with the widow’s wishes, and when all was in readiness, she declared that she was afraid to ride after Mike’s driving.  Uncle Peter was then proposed as a substitute, but the old man had such a dread of Mrs. Perkins, who Sal (for mischief) had said was in love with him, that at the first intimation he climbed up the scuttle hole, where an hour afterwards he was discovered peeping cautiously out to see if the coast was clear.  Mr. Parker was thus compelled to go himself, Miss Grundy sending after him the very Christian-like wish that “she hoped he’d tip over and break the widow’s neck!”

CHAPTER XXII.

EDUCATION FINISHED.

Vacation was over, and again in the halls of Mount Holyoke was heard the tread of many feet, and the sound of youthful voices, as one by one the pupils came back to their accustomed places.  For a time Mary was undecided whether to return or not, for much as she desired an education, she could not help feeling delicate about receiving it from a stranger; but Mrs. Mason, to whom all her thoughts and feelings were confided, advised her to return, and accordingly the first day of the term found her again at Mount Holyoke, where she was warmly welcomed by her teachers and companions.  Still it did not seem like the olden time, for Ida was not there, and Jenny’s merry