To think of that man goin' about to talk religion to all the prettiest girls he can find in the parish, and his wife at home like to leave him so soon,--it's a shame,--so it is, come now! Miss Cynthy, there's one of the best men and one of the learnedest men that ever lived that's a real friend of Myrtle Hazard, and a better friend to her than she knows of,--for ever sence he brought her home, he feels jest like a father to her,--and that man is Mr.Gridley, that lives in this house.

It's him I 'll speak to about the minister's carry'in's on.

He knows about his talking sweet to our Susan, and he'll put things to rights! He's a master hand when he does once take hold of anything, I tell you that! Jest get him to shet up them books of his, and take hold of anybody's troubles, and you'll see how he 'll straighten 'em out." There was a pattering of little feet on the stairs, and the two small twins, "Sossy" and "Minthy," in the home dialect, came hand in hand into the room, Miss Susan leaving them at the threshold, not wishing to interrupt the two ladies, and being much interested also in listening to Mr.Gifted Hopkins, who was reading some of his last poems to her, with great delight to both of them.
The good woman rose to take them from Susan, and guide their uncertain steps.

"My babies, I call 'em, Miss Cynthy.

Ain't they nice children?
Come to go to bed, little dears?
Only a few minutes, Miss Cynthy." She took them into the bedroom on the same floor, where they slept, and, leaving the door open, began undressing them.