“Mrs. Minot,” she called, and we left our clothes and went into the square room, as we called it.  Father and Louis were there, and when we were seated she began: 

“Now, my dear friends, I propose to ask a favor of you.  I love you three people, and you have made me so happy here I do desire to call this spot home for always.  It seems to me I cannot feel so happy in another place, and now you know I have many belongings in my old home in the city.  I know a lady who has met with misfortune, an old friend of my husband’s family, who is worthy, and forced at present by circumstances to earn her living.  Now may I ask you, my dear friends, to let me bring my furniture here.  Will you give me more room, that I may establish myself just quite enough to make it pleasant, and then I can let my friend have my house (upon condition of her retaining my old help, which I shall not permit to be a trouble to her financially), and through your favor I may help another.  I should have asked it long ago, but I waited for my boy to come and taste the air of your home here, and since he loves you as well as I do, may we stay?”

And she held her little white hands toward us, and opened her blue eyes wide.

Of course we all gladly consented.

Then she clapped her hands, and turning to Louis, said: 

“Louis Robert, thank them.”

And he bowed and said in his own expressive way: 

“We will try to appreciate your kindness.”

I knew then what the covered chairs meant, but I secretly wondered “How on airth,” as Aunt Hildy used to say, all those moveables were to be got into our house.  This thought was running through my head when Clara spoke, crossing the room as she did so, and taking my father’s hand—­and he was such a reserved man that no one else would ever have dreamed of doing so.

“Mr. Minot, I have not finished yet.  Would you grant me one thing more?  May I have a little bit of your ground on the west side of your house, say a piece not more than eighteen by twenty-five feet, with which to do just as I please?”

Father looked thunderstruck, as he answered: 

“What can you do with it, Clara?”

“Oh, never mind; may I?”

“Yes, yes,” he said in a dreamy way.

And mother looked up, to be met by the eyes which sought her own, while the sweet lips queried: 

“Will you say so too if you like my plans?”

“I’ll try to do what is best for us all”—­and that meant volumes, for my mother was thoroughly good, and as strong in what she deemed to be right as mortal could be, and she never wavered a moment, where right was considered.  Unfaltering and true, her word was a law, and Clara at her quiet answer felt the victory won.  Now for the sequel, thought I, and then Louis asked me to take a stroll in the moonlight, and although a little curious at the revelation awaiting us, I could not deny him and went for my hat and shawl.