You've never been poor. But I'll tell you if you
like. I've talked to you such a lot about home and the queer people we
know--did I ever mention Cousin Parnelia? She's a distant cousin of my
mother's, a queer woman who lost her husband and three children in a
train-wreck years ago, and has been a little bit crazy ever since. She
has always worn, for instance, exactly the same kind of clothes, hat
and everything, that she had on, the day the news was brought to her.
The Spiritualists got hold of her then, and she's been one herself for
ever so long--table-rapping--planchette-writing--all the horrid rest
of it, and she makes a little money by being a "medium" for ignorant
people. But she hardly earns enough that way to keep her from
starving, and Mother has for ever so long helped her out.
"Well, there was a chance to buy a tiny house and lot for her--two
hundred and twenty dollars. It was just a two-roomed cottage, but it
would be a roof over her head at least. She is getting old and ought
to have something to fall back on. Mother called us all together and
said this would be a way to help provide for Cousin Parnelia's
old age. Father never could bear her (he's so hard on ignorant,
superstitious people), but he always does what Mother thinks best,
so he said he'd give up the new typewriter he'd been hoping to buy.
Mother gave up her chicken money she'd been putting by for some new
rose-bushes, and she loves her roses too! Judith gave what she'd
earned picking raspberries, and I--oh, how I hated to do it! but I was
ashamed not to--I gave what I'd saved up for my autumn suit.
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