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Miranda's fire, like her hopes, had turned to ashes. She walked the floor restlessly, seeking vainly for a pathway out of her troubles, until she was exhausted. Then she slept a troubled sleep until daylight. It was a little comfort to get breakfast for Ephrum's wife and boys, although she was so heavy-hearted.
Bemis aside and confided to her that she didn't want Ephrum's boys to stay even one night in the poor-house, because "it might stick to 'em afterwards." And she shouldn't really feel that they were going to belong to her until she had them in her own house.
But, la! if there wa'n't such quarrellin' amongst folks, what would become of the lawyers? They'd all be here, a-settin' us by the ears, I expect." "And there isn't a cent for his own nephew's starving children?" said the woman bitterly. "Ephrum's? Oh, la, no! The old man never set by Ephrum, you know: them two was always contr'y-minded. You don't say, now, that you're Ephrum's wife?"
Cap'n 'Kiah surveyed her with frank curiosity. "I'm Ephrum's widow." "You don't say so, now! Well, there's wuss ockerpations than bein' a widow," remarked Cap'n 'Kiah consolingly. Miranda had drawn the younger boy to her side. She was chafing his numb hands and smoothing the damp locks from his forehead. "Why, how cold your hands have grown!" the child cried. "They're colder than mine.
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