Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1872-09-13
The Leisure Hour.
THINGS .u.IDE OVER.
DY KATE w. HAMILTON.

| LA! if the cinnamon amt out and
don't believe there's sugar enough either,
announced Molly, the very small help tha
| graced Mrs. Moore's kitchen.
| Lucia turned, with her hands in the pie
crust TO look at her; for, of course, thi:
important discovery had not been made
until Lucia had her calico apron on, hei
sleeves rolled up, and her hands deep in
the flonr. Molly had a genius for that sort
of thing. She stated the result of her in
vestigations now as cheerfully as if she had
been second Christopher Columbus, and
the empty gar box another America.
1t did not strike Lucia quite so pleasant
ly. Aside from being always engaged in a
guerrilla warfare against the propensity
of things in general TO be out, she did not
altogether fancy having TO pause in her oc-
cupation while Molly made trip to the
village store and back.
"Spose I'd better go after EN-" suggest
ed Molly, with beautiful serenity.
Lucia surveyed the patch of dim sun
shine that fell through the window upon
her white table, looked up at the ceiling
and down at the painted floor, and unable
to coniure any plan for making pies with
out the missing articles answered, rather
discontentedly-
"Well."
1t was Saturday, and to the tired young
teacher, busy with her school all the week,
Saturday meant good deal. AT least it al
ways seemed beforehand as lift might mean
a good deal, though, when the time really
came, host of common, uninteresting lit
tie things usually crowded in, and the
grand possibilities were crowded out. She
knew of nicer things to do with this day
than 10 chop it up into pies; only that the
pies were wanted, and somebody must
make them. But while Molly was taking
available point Of interest, she slipped up
stairs into an old armchair, and took a
book to console herself during the enforced
pause.
Chair and book were by the open fire in
plain, faded, CHEEKY little sitting-room,
where Aunt Samantha, brown, strong,
homely faced, with skein of black thread
wound around her neck, and brass Thin
BILE on one finger, bent over table cover
ell with cloths, patterns and pincushions,
while the paler, less positive-looking Mrs.
Moore sat sewing by window. Presently
Lucias story ran suddenly into an old
moral, and she drew herself up conbative-
ly.
"'Be content with the things that you
haver Well, that's easy enough! It's
being content with the things that you
haven't, that's the trouble" she medtated,
beginning to count up, almost unconscious
ly, that improbable part of her possessions
that consisted only in wantings.
"Well, now y said Aunt Samantha, shift
ing her pattern from one end of the cloth
to the other, and surveying it first over her
spectacles and then under them. "You see
when put it in this way it's the least bit
too short, and tother way it's jest leete
mite too narrer."
~ guess it'll have TO be pieced, Saman-
tha," remarked Mrs. Moore in quiet tone.
1t seemed as If the words had grown so
familiar to her lips that they almost said
themselves, Lucia thought, with faint
smile. "And no WONDER" she added, nod
ding her brown head at the sentence In the
book, "for everything is too short at one
end, or too narrow at one subsequently,
it's both. Nothing ever comes in full,
abounding measure; and it takes an i'm
mense amount of twisting and piecng to
get respectable life-pattern out of this
world, anyhow"
"Well," said Aunt Samantha, briskly
setting her spectacles again, and catching
up her scissors, ''taint no great matter. To
be sure it's kind of comfort when you re
about thing TO have it come out whole.
and save so many seams but it won't
show when it's all done"
al wonder If 1t won't2" mused Lucia.
"It seems 10 me smooth unbroken web
might be iairer, even when all is done,
than life patched up out of odds aud ends,
like bed-quilt."
1t was Lucia's winter cloak that Aunt
Samantha was so busly "making over :"
but that operation had been performed so
many times that 1t had lost every vestige of
novelty, and the girl felt more interest in
her reflections than in her garment. She
had worn It long and short, circular and
sacque, upside down and wrong side out,
for winters too far back to be worth recall
ing. Whenever the idea Of getting new
one had presented ITSELF something had
promptly stepped in the way. This time 1t
was shoes for the children.
MY shoes are so old and sick they're all
turnln' pale" exclaimed Penny, exhibit
ing the little worn toes all rubbed white.
80 Lucia's old cloak was forced to make
another revolution.
"fou needn't be mite worried about
that piecin', child; I'll bo sure to get it out
as slick as can be-" announced Aunt Sa-
inantha' encouragingly, observing for tho
hrsl Time that the thoughtful face by the
fire was looking over the book instead of
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