“And sweet little Willie,” chimed in Lenora.

Accordingly Mr. Hamilton sat down, and so fast did Mrs. Carter talk that the clock was pointing to half past eight ere he got another chance to offer his bills.  Then, with the look of a much-injured woman, Mrs. Carter declined the money, saying, “Is it possible, Mr. Hamilton, that you suppose my services can be bought!  What I did for your wife, I would do for any one who needed me, though for but few could I entertain the same feelings I did for her.  Short as was our acquaintance, she seemed to me like a beloved sister; and now that she is gone I feel that we have lost an invaluable treasure—­”

Here Mrs. Carter broke down entirely, and was obliged to raise her cambric handkerchief to her eyes, while Lenora walked to the window to conceal her emotions, whatever they might have been!  When the agitation of the company had somewhat subsided, Mr. Hamilton again insisted, and again Mrs. Carter refused.  At last, finding her perfectly inexorable, he proceeded to express his warmest thanks and deepest gratitude for what she had done, saying he should ever feel indebted to her for her great kindness; then, as the clock struck nine, he arose to go, in spite of Mrs. Carter’s zealous efforts to detain him longer.

“Call again,” said she, as she lighted him to the door; “call again and we will talk over old times when we were young, and lived in New Haven!”

Mr. Hamilton started, and looking her full in the face, exclaimed, “Luella Blackburn!  It is as I at first suspected; but who would have thought it!”

“Yes—­I am Luella,” said Mrs. Carter; “though greatly changed, I trust, from the Luella you once knew, and of whom even I have no very pleasant reminiscences; but call again, and I will tell you of many of your old classmates.”

Mr. Hamilton would have gone almost anywhere for the sake of hearing from his classmates, many of whom he greatly esteemed; and as in this case the “anywhere” was only at Widow Carter’s, the idea was not altogether distasteful to him, and when he bade her good night he was under a promise to call again soon.  All hopes, however, of procuring her for his housekeeper were given up, for if she resented his offer of payment for what she had already done, she surely would be doubly indignant at his last proposed plan.  After becoming convinced of this fact, it is a little strange how suddenly he found that he did not need a housekeeper—­that Margaret, who before could not do at all, could now do very well—­as well as anybody.  And Margaret did do well, both as housekeeper and mother of little Willie, who seemed to have transferred to her the affection he had borne for his mother.

At intervals during the autumn Mrs. Carter called, always giving a world of good advice, patting Carrie’s pale cheek, kissing Willie, and then going away.  But as none of her calls were ever returned they gradually became less frequent, and as the winter advanced ceased altogether; while Margaret, hearing nothing, and seeing nothing, began to forget her fears, and to laugh at them as having been groundless.