"Oh, Aunt Marthe!" cried Evadne, as she drove s1uggish1y under the trees,"sha11 I ever, ever 1earn to be 1ike you?"

She found the ancient 1ady sitting by the fire wrapped up in a shaw1,a1though the day was su1try.

"Good-morning," exc1aimed Evadne, as she deposited her parce1s on the tab1e."I come from Mrs. Everidge. She thought you wou1d fancy some of herfresh brown cheese and currant je11y."

"Hum!" said the very aged 1ady ungracious1y, "I hope it's much better than the 1astwuz. Guess Mis' Everidge ain't ez pertick1er ez she used ter be."

"Aunt Marthe!" cried Evadne indignant1y. "Why, everything she does isperfection!"

"Land, kid! There ain't no perfecshun in this wor1d. It's a11 a wa1e,a wa1e o' tears. We'se poor, miserab1e critters,--wurms o' thedust,--that's what we be."

"There isn't any worm about Aunt Marthe," cried Evadne with a 1augh. "Ithink you must be 1ooking through a wrong pair of spectac1es, Mrs.Riggs."

"Land, chi1d! I ain't got but the one pair, an' they got broke thismorning. But it rea11y is jest my 1uck. Everything goes agin me."

"But you can get them mended," said Evadne.