When Clara saw it, and I told her of its construction, and remarked on Aunt Peg’s love for flowers, she said: 

“Ah, Emily, it is typical of our nature!  We do seem so rudely made in the winter of our ignorance, and through the lattice of our untutored thoughts the cold winds of different opinions blow and we are troubled.  But when the summer of our better nature dawns, and the upturned soil catches seed, even though dropped by a careless hand, the vines of love will cover all our coldness, and the scarlet and white blossom of our beautiful thoughts appear among the leaves.  Aunt Peg’s earthly hand made the lattice, and the love of her undying soul planted the cypress seeds.”

I thought of it this cold winter’s day, and told Aunt Phebe, as we passed out of the door, how many flowers she had in summer and how pretty the vines were.  Aunt Peg heard me, and smiled graciously.  Then we went around to a side door, which opened into the ground room, as she called it.

Her house was on a bank, or at least its main part, and while a valley lay on one side, the ground rose upon the other.  The door-sill of this room was, therefore, even with both the ground and the floor, and on either side of it were two windows, both door and windows facing the south.  The sides and back of the room had no windows, the back partition being that which divided it from Aunt Peg’s little cellar; and the east and west sides were hedged in by the bank which came sloping down from both front and back doors.

“This is a very comfortable little room,” said Aunt Phebe.  “Now, what will be the rent?”

“Well, if you are bent on payin’, I don’t want to say less than ten dollars a year.”

“I would call it twelve, and that will be one dollar a month, Mrs. Smith.”

“Thank you, mam, it’ll be a great help; I have the sideache sometimes, and can’t do nothing for a day or so, not even get the wool rolls off my wheel, and that is jist play when I’m smart:  he may come neat or not neat, Plint or no Plint,” and the bargain was finished, and Matthias Jones was to appear on, or near, the first of March.

My rehearsal of our visit at the dinner-table provoked great mirth, and Mr. Benton smiled on me more kindly than ever before, but I could not but think, whenever I looked at him, that he must die pretty soon, because Clara could not love him, and he had told her his life was dependent on her love.

The days of Aunt Phebe’s visit drew too quickly to their close, and the time to go came on a bright sun-shiny morning.  Father carried her to the railway station; we filled a large trunk with the farm products, so welcome to those who live in cities.  Aunt Hildy put in a bundle the contents of which she did not even want me to guess.  She was a firm friend to Aunt Phebe, and shook her hand when she left, as if loath to let it go, and said: 

“Come again as soon as you can, and if I am in my own little nest, come and stay with me, and we’ll have some more good sensible talk that helps our wings to grow; we are only covered with pin-feathers so far.”