let her sleep alone.”

Renewed whimpers from Mrs. Frederick.

“I can’t help it. Night before last I suggested she’d better have Christine sleep with her. She positively refused — and locked her door. Oh, you don’t know how she’s changed. She won’t work. At least, she won’t sew. She does her usual housework, of course. But she wouldn’t sweep the parlour yesterday morning, though we always sweep it on Thursdays. She said she’d wait till it was dirty. ‘Would you rather sweep a dirty room than a clean one?’ I asked her. She said, ‘Of course. I’d see something for my labour then.’ Think of it!”

Uncle Benjamin thought of it.

“The jar of potpourri”