Mrs. Crump, fortunately for her husband’s peace, did not in the least resemble her sister-in-law.  Her disposition was cheerful, and she had frequent occasion to remonstrate with her upon the dark view she took of life.  Had her temper been different, it is very easy to see that she would have been continually quarrelling with Rachel; but, happily, she was one of those women with whom it is impossible to quarrel.  With her broad mantle of charity, she was always seeking to cover up and extenuate the defects of her sister-in-law, though she could not help acknowledging their existence.

It had been a hard winter for the cooper.  For a month he had been unable to obtain work of any kind, and for the two months previous he had worked scarcely more than half the time.  Unfortunately for him, his expenses for a few years back had kept such even pace with his income, that he had no reserved fund to fall back upon in such a time as this.  That was no fault of his.  Both he and his wife had been economical enough, but there are a great many things included in family expenses—­rent, fuel, provisions, food, clothing, and a long list of sundries, besides; and all these had cost money, of which desirable article Uncle Tim’s trade furnished not a very large supply.

So it happened that, as tradesmen were slow to trust, they had been obliged to part with a sofa to defray the expenses of the month of December.  This article was selected because it was best convertible into cash,—­being wanted by a neighbor,—­besides being about the only article of luxury, if it could be called such, in possession of the family.  As such it had been hardly used, being reserved for state occasions; yet hardly had it left (sic) the the house, when Aunt Rachel began to show signs of extreme lowness of spirits, and bewailed its loss as a privation of a personal comfort.

“Life’s full of disappointments,” she groaned.  “Our paths is continually beset by ’em.  There’s that sofa!  It’s so pleasant to have one in the house when a body’s sick.  But there, it’s gone, and if I happen to get down, as most likely I shall, for I’ve got a bad feeling in my stummick this very minute, I shall have to go up-stairs, and most likely catch my death of cold, and that will be the end of me.”

“Not so bad as that, I hope,” said Mrs. Crump, cheerfully.  “You know, when you was sick last, you didn’t want to use the sofa—­you said it didn’t lay comfortable.  Besides, I hope, before you are sick again we may be able to buy it back again.”

Aunt Rachel shook her head despondingly.

“There ain’t any use in hoping that,” said she.  “Timothy’s got so much behindhand that he won’t be able to get up again; I know he won’t.”

“But if he manages to get steady work soon, he will.”

“No, he won’t.  I’m sure he won’t.  There won’t be any work before spring, and most likely not then.”

“You are too desponding, Aunt Rachel.”