All poor William's new canvases and painting-things huddled together into a packing-case.

He looked so sad, sitting silent with his green shade on, while his old familiar working materials were disappearing around him, as if he and they were never to come together again, that the tears would start into my eyes, though I am sure I am not one of the crying sort.

Luckily, the green shade kept him from seeing me: and I took good care, though the effort nearly choked me, that he should not hear I was crying, at any rate.
The bead purse is done.

How are we to get the steel rings and tassels for it?
I am not justified now in spending sixpence unnecessarily, even for the best of purposes.
22d .-- --- 23d.

_The Farm of Appletreewick._--Too tired, after our move yesterday, to write a word in my diary about our journey to this delightful place.
But now that we are beginning to get settled, I can manage to make up for past omissions.
My first occupation on the morning of the move had, oddly enough, nothing to do with our departure for the farmhouse.