Aunt Hannah And Seth

o see. On either hand ran the dusty road, not unlike a yellow ribbon upon a cloth of green, and bordering it here and there were clumps of bushes or groves of pine or of oak, as if planted for the especial purpose of affording to the weary traveller a screen from the blinding sun. The little farmhouse stood upon the height of a slight elevation from which could be had a view of the country round about on either hand; and although so near to the great city, there were no settlements, villages, or towns to be seen. Surely, the lad said to himself, he had at last arrived at "the country," and if all houses were ashospitable-looking, as cleanly, and as inviting in appearance as was this one, then Pip Smith's story had in it considerably more than a grain of truth. " It must be mighty nice to have money enough to live in a place like this," Seth said to himself. " It would please Snip way down to the ground; but I mustn't think of it, 'cause there's no chance for a feller like me to earn a livin' here, an' we can't always count on folks givin' us what we need to eat." Then Aunt Hannah came out from the barn, carrying in one hand a glistening tin pail filled with foaming milk, and in the other the three-legged stool. Seth ran toward her and held out his hand as if believing she would readily yield at least a portion of her burden; but she shook her head smiling. "Bless your heart, my child, I ought to be able to carry one pail of milk, seeing that I... --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition.