CHAPTER XVII.
AN OLD SONG EVENING.
Aunt Sarah and Mary spent few idle moments while carrying out their plans for "doing over" the old parlor.

Finally, 'twas finished.

Mary breathed a sigh of satisfaction as the last picture was hung on the wall.

She turned to her Aunt, saying, "Don't you think the room looks bright, cheery and livable ?" "Yes," replied her Aunt, "and what is more essential, homey, I have read somewhere, 'A woman's house should be as personal a matter as a spider's web or a snail's shell; and all the thought, toil and love she puts into it should be preserved a part of its comeliness and homelikeness forever, and be her monument to the generations.'" "Well, Aunt Sarah," replied Mary, "I guess we've earned our monument.
The air that blows over the fields, wafted in from the open window, is sweet with the scent of grain and clover, and certainly is refreshing.
I'm dreadfully tired, but so delighted with the result of our labors.
Now we will go and 'make ready,' as Sibylla says, before the arrival of Ralph from the city.

I do hope the ice cream will be frozen hard.
The Sunshine Sponge Cake, which I baked from a recipe the Professor's wife gave me, is light as a feather.