"Why, why, Rob?" said his mother.

(Deacon and Mrs. Plummer had left the train at Quincy to spend a week with a son of theirs who lived there. They were to join the Marches later, in Denver.)

"Oh, because she'd have said: 'This is—cough—cough—providential.' What does providential mean, anyhow, papa? You never say it. Does it make you cough and sneeze? Mrs. Plummer is always saying it about every thing."

Mr. and Mrs. March laughed so hard at this they could not speak for some minutes. Then Mr. March said:—

"You must not speak so, Rob;" but, before he had finished his sentence, he had to stop again, and laugh harder than before. "Deacon and Mrs. Plummer are going to be the greatest help to us, and they are as good and kind as they can be."

"Yes, I like her crullers first-rate," said Rob. "What does providential mean, papa?"

Mr. March looked puzzled.

"I hardly kno. . . Read More