Here really was a home for Aunt Emma,--and now it rested with
herself to make it as neat and comfortable and happy as a home could
be. She would keep it as clean as a new pin, and as pretty as lay in
her power. She tried to conquer her sadness by hard work, to put
away her sorrow at leaving Aunt Martha and Dick and their happy life
together.
"Brownies always go where there's most to be done, Miss Rose says,
not where they'll be most comfortable," she said to herself, bravely,
but her poor little face was very wistful. A few days later, though,
when, after a long day's work, she sat down and looked about her, she
remarked cheerfully, "I don't think anybody can go on feeling very
miserable when they've lots to do and somebody to take care of."
A glow of pride warmed her heart, as she sat there drying her
water-soaked hands, and glanced from the gleaming stove and
fire-irons to the speckless window, and well-scrubbed table.
On the table stood a jar full of autumn flowers, and on the
window-sill a box full of brown earth and little roots, double
daisies, primulas, wallflowers. This last was Huldah's special joy
and pride.
"We'll have a proper little garden there, when the spring comes," she
remarked proudly to Aunt Emma.
Aunt Emma shook her head in melancholy fashion.
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