ence now, and I've learned that itisn't the best housekeepers that get married easiest. If it was, I wouldn't be so worried now."
"Is anything the matter?" asked Jean, quick to note the distress in Mrs. Crane's voice.
"Yes," returned the good woman, "there are two things the matter."
"Your poor foot?" queried Bettie, instantly all sympathy.
"No, the foot's all right. It's Mr. Barlow and my eyes. Mr. Barlow is going to be married to a young lady he's been writing to for a long time, and I'm going to lose him because he wants to keep house. It won't be easy to find another lodger for that little, shabby, old-fashioned room. I'm trying to make a new rag carpet for it, but I'm all at a standstill because I can't see to thread my needle—I declare I don't know what is going to become of me."
"When I grow up," said Bettie, "you shall live with me."
