MRS. TREE

By Laura E. Richards

Author of "Captain January," "Melody,""Marie," etc.

Boston Dana Estes & CompanyPublishers

Copyright, 1902 BY DANA ESTES &COMPANY

All rights reserved

MRS. TREE Published June, 1902

Colonial Press Electrotyped andPrinted by C. H. Simonds & Co.Boston, Mass., U. S. A.

To My Daughter Rosalind

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. Wedding Bells 11

II. Phoebe's Opinions 25

III. Introducing Tommy Candy andSolomon, his Grandfather 41

IV. Old Friends 55

V. "But When He Was Yet a Great Wayoff" 75

VI. The New Postmaster 92

VII. In Miss Penny's Shop 107

VIII. A Tea-party 124

IX. A Garden-party 142

X. Mr. Butters Discourses 161

XI. Miss Phoebe Passes on 175

XII. The Peak in Darien 189

XIII. Life in Death 201

XIV. Tommy Candy, and the Letter HeBrought 217

XV. Maria 233

XVI. Doctor Stedman's Patient 249

XVII. Not Yet! 267

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

Mrs. Tree Frontispiece

"She put out a finger, and Jocko clawedit without ceremony" 119

"'Careful with that Bride Blush, Willy'"143

"'Perhaps this is as good medicine asyou can take!' he said" 262

MRS. TREE

CHAPTER I.

WEDDING BELLS

"Well, they're gone!" said DirexiaHawkes.

"H'm!" said Mrs. Tree.

Direxia had been to market, and, it wasto be supposed, had brought home,beside the chops and the soup-piece, allthe information the village afforded.She had now, after putting away heraustere little bonnet and cape, brought

a china basin, and a mystic assortmentof white cloths, and was polishing thewindow-panes, which did not needpolishing. From time to time sheglanced at her mistress, who sat boltupright in her chair, engaged on asevere-looking piece of knitting. Mrs.Tree detested knitting, and it was alwaysa bad sign when she put away her bookand took up the needles.

"Yes'm; they're gone. I see 'em go.Ithuriel Butters drove 'em over to theJunction; come in yesterday o' purpose,and put up his team at DoctorStedman's. Ithuriel thinks a sight ofDoctor Strong. Yes'm; folks was realconcerned to see him go, and her too.

They made a handsome couple, if theybe both light-complected."

"What are you doing to that window,Direxia Hawkes " demanded Mrs. Tree,looking up from her knitting with aglittering eye.

"I was cleanin' it."

"I'm glad to hear it. I never should havesupposed so from looking at it. Perhapsyou'd better let it alone."

"You're a terrible tedious woman to livewith, Mis' Tree!" said Direxia.

"You're welcome to go any minute,"

replied Mrs. Tree.

"Yes'm," said Direxia. "What kind ofsauce would you like for tea "

"Any kind except yours," said Mrs. Tree;and then both smiled grimly, and feltbetter.

Direxia polished away, still with ananxious eye on the old woman whomshe loved fiercely.

"He sent a message to you, last thingbefore he drove off. He wanted Ishould tell you what's this now he said'Tell her to keep on growing young till Icome back,' that was it. Well, he's a

perfect gentleman, that's what he is."

Something clicked in Mrs. Tree's throat,but she said nothing. Mrs. Tree wasover ninety, but apart from an amazingreticulation of wrinkles, netted fine andclose as a brown veil, she showed littlesign of her great age. As she herselfsaid, she had her teeth and her wits, andshe did not see what more any onewanted. In her morning gown of whitedimity, with folds of soft net about herthroat, and a turban of the samematerial on her head, she was a pleasantand picturesque figure. For theafternoon she affected satin, eitherplum-colored, or of the cinnamonshade in which some of my readers

may have seen her elsewhere, withslippers to match, and a cap suggestingthe Corinthian order. In this array,majesty replaced picturesqueness, andthere were those in Elmerton whoquailed at the very thought of this tinyold woman, upright in her ebony chair,with the acanthus-leaf in finestBrussels nodding over her brows. Thelast touch of severity was added whenMrs. Tree was found knitting, as on thepresent occasion.

"Ithuriel Butters is a sing'lar man!"Direxia went on, investigating withexquisite nicety the corner of a pane."He gave me a turn just now, he didso."

She waited a moment, but no signcoming, continued. "I was to MissPhoebe 'n' Vesty's when he druv up,and we passed the time o' day. I said,'How's Mis' Butters now, Ithuriel ' Isaid. I knew she'd been re'l poorly aspell back, but I hadn't heard for aconsid'able time.

"'I ain't no notion!' says he.

"'What do you mean, Ithuriel Butters ' Isays.

"'Just what I say,' says he.

"'Why, where is she ' I says. I thought

she might be visitin', you know. She hasconsid'able kin round here.

"'I ain't no idee,' says he. 'I left her inthe bur'in'-ground, that's all I know.'

"Mis' Tree, that woman has been dead amonth, and I never knew the first wordabout it. They're all sing'lar people,them Butterses. She was a proper nicewoman, though, this Mis' Butters. Hehad hopes of Di-plomy one spell, afterhis last died she was a reg'lar fire-skull;he didn't have much peace while shelived died in a tantrum too, they say;scol't so hard she bust a vessel, and itrun all through her, and car'd her offbut Di-plomy couldn't seem to change

her state, no more'n Miss Phoebe 'n'Vesty.

"My sakes! if there ain't Miss Vestycomin' now. I'll hasten and put awaythese things, Mis' Tree, and be back tolet her in."

Miss Vesta Blyth came soberly along thestreet and up the garden path. She wasa quaint and pleasant picture, in hergown of gray and white foulard, withher little black silk mantle and bonnet.Some thirty years ago Miss Vesta andher sister Miss Phoebe had decided thatfashion was a snare; and since then theyhad always had their clothes made onthe same model, to the despair of

Prudence Pardon, the dressmaker.

But when one looked at Vesta Blyth'sface, one was not apt to think about herclothes; one rather thought, what a pityone must look away from her presently!At least, that was what Geoffrey Strongused to say, a young man who lovedMiss Vesta, and who was now goneaway with his young wife, leaving sorehearts behind.

Direxia Hawkes came out on the porchto meet the visitor, closing the doorbehind her for an instant.

"I'm terrible glad you've come," shesaid. "She's lookin' for you, too, I

expect, though she won't say a word.There! she's fairly rusted with grief. It'lldo her good to have somebody new tochaw on; she's been chawin' on me tillshe's tired, and she's welcome to."

"Yes, Direxia, I know; you are mostfaithful and patient," said Miss Vesta,gently. "You know we all appreciate it,don't you, my good Direxia I havebrought a little sweetbread for AuntMarcia's supper. Diploma cooked it theway she likes it, with a little cream, andjust a spoonful of white wine. There!now I will go in. Thank you, Direxia."

"Dear Aunt Marcia," the little lady saidas she entered the room, "how do you

do to-day You are looking so well!"

"I've got the plague," announced Mrs.Tree, with deadly quiet.

"Dearest Aunt Marcia! what can youmean The plague! Surely you must havemistaken the symptoms. That terribledisease is happily, I think, restricted to "

"I've got twenty plagues!" exclaimed theold lady. "First there's Direxia Hawkes,who torments my life out all day long;and then you, Vesta, who might knowbetter, coming every day and askinghow I am. How should I be Have youever known me to be anything butperfectly well since you were born "

"No, dear Aunt Marcia, I am thankfulto say I have not. It is such a singularblessing, that you have this wonderfulhealth."

"Well, then, why can't you let my healthalone When it fails, I'll let you know."

"Yes, dear Aunt Marcia, I will try."

"Bah!" said Mrs. Tree. "You are a goodgirl, Vesta, but you would exasperate asaint. I am not a saint."

Miss Vesta, too polite to assent to thisstatement, and too truthful tocontradict it, gazed mildly at her aunt,

and was silent.

Mrs. Tree, after five minutes ofvengeful knitting, rolled up her workdeliberately, stabbed it through with theneedles, and tossed it across the room.

"Well!" she said, "have you anythingelse to say, Vesta I am cross, but I amnot hungry, and if I were I would noteat you. Tell me something, can't youIsn't there any gossip in this tiresomeplace "

"Oh, Aunt Marcia, I cannot think ofanything but our dear children,Geoffrey and Vesta. We have just seenthem off, you know. Indeed, I came on

purpose to tell you about theirdeparture, but you seemed AuntMarcia, they were sad at going, I trulythink they were. It was here they firstmet, and found their young happinessthe Lord preserve them in it all theirlives long! there were tears in LittleVesta's eyes, dear child! but still, they aregoing to their own home, and ofcourse they were full of joy too. Oh,Aunt Marcia, I must say, dear Geoffreylooked like a prince as he handed hisbride into the carriage."

"Was he in red velvet and feathers "asked Mrs. Tree. "It wouldn't surpriseme in the least."

"Oh, no, dear Aunt Marcia! Nothing, Iassure you, gaudy or striking, in thevery least. He wore the ordinary dressof a gentleman, not conspicuous in anyway. It was his air I meant, and the lookof of pride and joy and youth ah! itwas very beautiful. Vesta was beautifultoo; you saw her travelling-dress, AuntMarcia. Did you not think it charming "

"The child looked well enough," saidMrs. Tree. "Lord knows what sort ofwife she'll make, with her head stuffedfull of all kinds of notions, but shelooks well, and she means well. I gaveher my diamonds; did she tell you that"

Miss Vesta's smooth brow clouded."Yes, Aunt Marcia, she told me, andshowed them to me. I had not seenthem for years. They are very beautiful.I I confess "

"Well, what's the matter " demandedher aunt, sharply. "You didn't wantthem yourself, did you "

"Oh! surely not, dear Aunt Marcia. Iwas only thinking Maria might feel,with her two daughters, that thereshould have been some division "

"Vesta Blyth," said Mrs. Tree, slowly,"am I dead "

"Dear Aunt Marcia! what a singularquestion!"

"Do I look as if I were going to die "

"Surely not! I have rarely seen youlooking more robust."

"Very well! When I am dead, you maytalk to me about Maria and her twodaughters; I sha'n't mind it then. Whatelse have you got to say I am going totake my nap soon, so if you haveanything more, out with it!"

Miss Vesta, after a hurried mentalreview of subjects that might besoothing, made a snatch at one.

"Doctor Stedman came to see thechildren off. I think he is almost assorry to lose Geoffrey as we are. It is areal pleasure to see him looking so welland vigorous. He really looks like ayoung man."

"Don't speak to me of James Stedman!"exclaimed Mrs. Tree. "I never wish tohear his name again."

"Aunt Marcia! dear James Stedman! Ourold and valued friend!"

"Old and valued fiddlestick! Whowanted him to come back Why couldn'the stay where he was, and poison the

foreigners He might have been of someuse there."

Miss Vesta looked distressed.

"Aunt Marcia," she said, gently, "Icannot feel as if I ought to let even youspeak slightingly of Doctor Stedman.Of course we all feel deeply the loss ofdear Geoffrey; I am sure no one canfeel it more deeply than Phoebe and Ido. The house is so empty without him;he kept it full of sunshine and joy. Butthat should not make us forgetful ofDoctor Stedman's life-long devotionand "

"Speaking of devotion," said Mrs. Tree,

"has he asked you to marry him yetHow many times does that make "

Miss Vesta went very pink, and rosefrom her seat with a gentle dignitywhich was her nearest approach toanger.

"I think I will leave you now, AuntMarcia," she said. "I will come again to-morrow, when you are more composed.Good-by."

"Yes, run along!" said Mrs. Tree, andher voice softened a little. "I don't wantyou to-day, Vesta, that's the truth. Sendme Phoebe, or Malvina Weight. I wantsomething to 'chaw on,' as Direxia said

just now."

"The dogs! I was going to say,"exclaimed Direxia, using one of herstrongest expressions. "You never heardme, now, Mis' Tree!"

"I never hear anything else!" said theold lady. "Go away, both of you, andlet me hear myself think."

CHAPTER II.

MISS PHOEBE'S OPINIONS

"I cannot see that your aunt looks a day

older than she did twenty years ago,"said Dr. James Stedman.

Miss Vesta Blyth looked up in sometrepidation, and the soft color cameinto her cheeks.

"You have called on her, then, James,"she said. "I am truly glad. How did shethat is, I am sure she was rejoiced to seeyou, as every one in the village is."

Doctor Stedman chuckled, and pulledhis handsome gray beard. "She mayhave been rejoiced," he said; "I trustshe was. She said first that she hoped Ihad come back wiser than I went, andwhen I replied that I hoped I had

learned a little, she said she could notabide new-fangled notions, and that ifI expected to try any experiments onher I would find myself mistaken. Yes,I find her quite unchanged, and whollydelightful. What amazing vigor! I amtoo old for her, that's the trouble.Young Strong is far more hercontemporary than I am. Why, she is asmuch interested in every aspect of lifeas any boy in the village. Before I left Ihad told her all that I knew, and a gooddeal that I didn't."

"It is greatly to be regretted," said MissPhoebe Blyth, pausing in an intricatepart of her knitting, and looking overher glasses with mild severity, "it is

greatly to be regretted that Aunt Marciaoccupies herself so largely with thingstemporal. At her advanced age, heracute interest in one, two, three, purl inworldly matters, appears to melamentable."

"I often think, Sister Phoebe," saidMiss Vesta, timidly, "that it is herinterest in little things that keeps AuntMarcia so wonderfully young."

"My dear Vesta," replied Miss Phoebe,impressively, "at ninety-one, witheternity, if I may use the expression,sitting in the next room, the question iswhether any assumption ofyouthfulness is desirable. For my own

part, I cannot feel that it is. I saidsomething of the sort to Aunt Marciathe other day, and she replied that shewas having all the eternity she desiredat that moment. The expressionshocked me, I am bound to say."

"Aunt Marcia does not always meanwhat she says, Sister Phoebe."

"My dear Vesta, if she does not meanwhat she says at her age, the question is,when will she mean it "

After a majestic pause, Miss Phoebecontinued, glancing at her otherhearers:

"I should be the last, the very last, toreflect upon my mother's sister ingeneral conversation; but DoctorStedman being our family physician aswell as our lifelong friend, and CousinHomer one of the family, I maywithout impropriety, I trust, dwell on apoint which distresses me in ourvenerable relation. Aunt Marcia is Igrieve to use a harsh expressionfrivolous."

Mr. Homer Hollopeter, responding toMiss Phoebe's glance, cleared his throatand straightened his long back. He wasa little gentleman, and most of whatheight he had was from the waistupward; his general aspect was one of

waviness. His hair was long and wavy;so was his nose, and his throat, and hisshirt-collar. In his youth some one hadtold him that he resembled Keats. Thisutterance, taken with the namebestowed on him by an ambitiousmother with literary tastes, had coloredhis whole life. He was assistant in thepost-office, and lived largely on theimaginary romance of the letters whichpassed through his hands; he alsoplayed the flute, wrote verses, andadmired his cousin Phoebe.

"I have often thought it a pity," said Mr.Homer, "that Cousin Marcia shouldnot apply herself more to literarypursuits."

"I don't know what you mean byliterary pursuits, Homer," said DoctorStedman, rather gruffly. "I found herthe other day reading Johnson'sDictionary by candlelight, withoutglasses. I thought that was doing prettywell for ninety-one."

"I a was thinking more about otherbranches of literature," Mr. Homeradmitted. "The Muse, James, the Muse!Cousin Marcia takes little interest inpoetry. If she could sprinkle the apathway to the tomb with blossoms ofpoesy, it would be" he waved his handsgently abroad "smoother; less rough;more devoid of irregularities."

"Cousin Homer, could you find itconvenient not to rock " asked MissPhoebe, with stately courtesy.

"Certainly, Cousin Phoebe. I beg yourpardon."

It was one of Miss Phoebe's crossesthat Mr. Homer would always sit in thisparticular chair, and would rock; themore so that when not engaged inconversation he was apt to open andshut his mouth in unison with themotion of the rockers. Miss Phoebedisapproved of rocking-chairs, andwould gladly have banished this one,had it not belonged to her mother.

"I have occasionally offered to read toCousin Marcia," Mr. Homer continued,"from the works of Keats and otherbards; but she has uniformly receivedthe suggestion in a spirit of mockery;of derision; of contumely. The lasttime I mentioned it, she exclaimed'Cat's foot!' The expression struck me, Iconfess, as strange; as singular; asextraordinary."

"It is an old-fashioned expression,Cousin Homer," Miss Vesta put in,gently. "I have heard our GrandmotherDarracott use it, Sister Phoebe."

"There's nothing improper in it, is there

" said Doctor Stedman.

"Really, my dear James," said MissPhoebe, bending a literally awful browon her guest, "I trust not. Do you meanto imply that the conversation ofgentlewomen of my aunt's age is apt tobe improper "

"No, no," said Doctor Stedman, easily."It only seemed to me that you weremaking a good deal of Mrs. Tree's littleeccentricities. But, Phoebe, you saidsomething a few minutes ago that I wasvery glad to hear. It is pleasant to knowthat I am still your family physician.That young fellow who went off theother day seems to have taken every

heart in the village in his pocket. Ayoung rascal!"

Miss Phoebe colored and drew herselfup.

"Sister Phoebe," Miss Vesta breathedrather than spoke, "James is in jest. Hehas the highest opinion of "

"Vesta, I think I have my senses," saidMiss Phoebe, kindly. "I have heardJames use exaggerated language before.Candor compels me to admit, James,that I have benefited greatly by theadvice and prescriptions of DoctorStrong; also that, though deploringcertain aspects of his conduct while

under our roof I will say no more,having reconciled myself entirely to theoutcome of the matter we have becomedeeply attached to him. He is" MissPhoebe's voice quavered slightly "he isa chosen spirit."

"Dear Geoffrey!" murmured MissVesta.

"But in spite of this," Miss Phoebecontinued, graciously, "we feel the tiesof ancient friendship as strongly asever, James, and must always value youhighly, whether as physician or asfriend."

"Yes, indeed, dear James," said Miss

Vesta, softly.

Doctor Stedman rose from his seat. Hiseyes were very tender as he looked atthe sisters from under his shaggyeyebrows.

"Good girls!" he said. "I couldn't affordto lose my best patients." Hestraightened his broad shoulders andlooked round the room. "When I sawanything new over there," he said,"castle or picture-gallery or cathedral,whatever it was, I always compared itwith this room, and it never stood thecomparison for an instant. Pleasantestplace in the world, to my thinking."

Miss Phoebe beamed over herspectacles. "You pay us a highcompliment, James," she said. "It ispleasant indeed to feel that home stillseems best to you. I confess that, greatas are the treasures of art, andmagnificent as are the monuments inthe cities of Europe, I have always feltthat as places of residence they wouldnot compare favorably with Elmerton."

"Quite right," said Doctor Stedman,"quite right!" and though his eyestwinkled, he spoke with conviction.

"The cities of Europe," Mr. Homerobserved, "can hardly be suited, asplaces of residence, to a persons of

literary taste. There is" he waved hishands "too much noise; too muchsound; too much absence oftranquillity. I could wish, though, tohave seen the grave of Keats."

"I brought you a leaf from his grave,Homer," said Doctor Stedman, kindly."I have it at home, in my pocketbook.I'll bring it down to the office to-morrow. I went to the burying-groundon purpose."

"Did you so " exclaimed Mr. Homer,his mild face growing radiant withpleasure. "That was kind, James; thatwas friendly; that was benevolent! Ishall value it highly, highly. I thank you,

James. I since you are interested in thelamented Keats, perhaps you wouldlike" his hand went with a flutteringmotion to his pocket.

"I must go now," said Doctor Stedman,hastily. "I've stayed too long already, butI never know how to get away fromthis house. Good night, Phoebe! Goodnight, Vesta! You are looking a littletired; take care of yourself. 'Night,Homer; see you to-morrow!"

He shook hands heartily all around andwas gone.

Mr. Homer sighed gently. "It is a greatpity," he said, "with his excellent

disposition, that James will neverinterest himself in literary pursuits."

His hand was still fluttering about hispocket, and there was an unspokenappeal in his mild brown eyes.

"Have you brought something to readto us, Cousin Homer " asked MissPhoebe, benevolently.

Mr. Homer with alacrity drew a foldedpaper from his pocket.

"This is you may be aware, CousinPhoebe the anniversary of the birth ofthe lamented Keats. I always like to paysome tribute to his memory on these

occasions, and I have here a slight thingI tossed it off after breakfast thismorning which I confess I should liketo read to you. You know how highly Ivalue your opinion, Cousin Phoebe,and some criticism may suggest itself toyou, though I trust that in the main butyou shall judge for yourself."

He cleared his throat, adjusted hisspectacles, and began:

"Thoughts suggested by theAnniversary of the Natal Day of thepoet Keats."

"Could you find it convenient not torock, Cousin Homer " said Miss

Phoebe.

"By all means, Cousin Phoebe. I begyour pardon. 'Thoughts' but I need notrepeat the title.

"I asked the Muse if she had oneThrice-favored son, Or if some onepoetic brother Appealed to her morethan another. She gazed on me withaspect high, And tear in eye, Whilemusically she repeats, 'Keats!'

"She gave me then to understand, Andsmiled bland, On Helicon the sacredNine Occasionally ask bards to dine.'For most,' she said, 'we do not move,Though we approve; For one alone we

leave our seats: "Keats!"'"

There was a silence after the reading ofthe poem. Mr. Homer, slightly flushedwith his own emotions, gazed eagerly atMiss Phoebe, who sat very erect, thetips of her fingers pressed together, herwhole air that of a judge about to givesentence. Miss Vesta looked somewhatdisturbed, yet she was the first to speak,murmuring softly, "The feeling is verygenuine, I am sure, Cousin Homer!"But Miss Phoebe was ready now.

"Cousin Homer," she said, "since youask for criticism, I feel bound to give it.You speak of the 'sacred' Nine. Theword sacred appears to me to belong

distinctly to religious matters; I cannotthink that it should be employed inspeaking of pagan divinities. Theexpression I am sorry to speak stronglyshocks me!"

Mr. Homer looked pained, and openedand shut his mouth several times.

"It is an expression that is frequentlyused, Cousin Phoebe," he said. "All thepoets make use of it, I assure you."

"I do not doubt it in the least," saidMiss Phoebe. "The poets with a fewnotable exceptions are apt to bedeplorably lax in such matters. If youwould confine your reading of poetry,

Cousin Homer, to the works of suchpoets as Mrs. Hemans, ArchbishopTrench, and the saintly Keble, youwould not incur the danger of beingled away into unsuitable vagaries."

"But Keats, Cousin Phoebe," began Mr.Homer; Miss Phoebe checked him witha wave of her hand.

"Cousin Homer, I have alreadyintimated to you, on several occasions,that I cannot discuss the poet Keatswith you. I am aware that he isconsidered an eminent poet, but I havenot reached my present age withoutrealizing that many works maycommend themselves to even the most

refined of the masculine sex which arewholly unsuitable for ladies. We willchange the subject, if you please; butbefore doing so, let me earnestly entreatyou to remove the word 'sacred' fromyour poem."

CHAPTER III.

INTRODUCING TOMMY CANDYAND SOLOMON, HISGRANDFATHER

"Here's that boy again!" said DirexiaHawkes.

"What boy " asked Mrs. Tree; but hereyes brightened as she spoke, and shelaid down her book with an expectantair.

"Tommy Candy. I told him I guessedyou couldn't be bothered with him, buthe's there."

"Show him in. Come in, child! Don'tsidle! You are not a crab. Come hereand make your manners."

The boy advanced slowly, but notunwillingly. He was an odd-lookingchild, with spiky black hair, a mouthlike a circus clown, and gray eyes thattwinkled almost as brightly as Mrs.

Tree's own.

The gray eyes and the black exchangeda look of mutual comprehension."How do you do, Thomas Candy " saidMrs. Tree, formally, holding out herlittle hand in its white lace mitt. It wasafternoon, and she was dressed toreceive callers.

"Shake hands as if you meant it, boy! Isaid shake hands, not flap flippers; youare not a seal. There! that's better. Howdo you do, Thomas Candy "

"How-do-you-do-Missis-Tree-I'm-pretty-well-thank-you-and-hope-you-are- the-same."

Having uttered this sentiment as if itwere one word, Master Candy drew along breath, and said in a differenttone, "I came to see the bird and hear'bout Grampy; can I "

"May I, not can I, Tommy Candy! Youmayn't see the bird; he's having his nap,and doesn't like to be disturbed; butyou may hear about your grandfather.Sit down on the stool there. Open thedrawer, and see if there is anything init."

The boy obeyed with alacrity. Thedrawer (it belonged to a sandalwoodtable, inlaid with chess-squares of pearl

and malachite), being opened, provedto contain burnt almonds in an ivorybox, and a silver saucer full of cubes offig-paste, red and white. Tommy Candyseemed to find words unequal to thesituation; he gave Mrs. Tree an eloquentglance, then obeyed her nod and helpedhimself to both sweetmeats.

"Good " inquired Mrs. Tree.

"Bully!" said Tommy.

"Now, what do you want to hear "

"About Grampy."

"What about him "

"Everything! like what you told me lasttime."

There was a silence of perfect peace onone side, of reflection on the other.

"Solomon Candy," said Mrs. Tree,presently, "was the worst boy I everknew."

Tommy grinned gleefully, his mouthcurving up to his nose, and rumpledhis spiky hair with a delighted gesture.

"Nobody in the village had any peaceof their lives," the old lady went on,"on account of that boy and my

brother Tom. We went to schooltogether, in the little red schoolhousethat used to stand where the academy isnow. We were always friends, Solomonand I, and he never played tricks on me,more than tying my pigtail to the backof the bench, and the like of that; butwoe betide those that he didn't take afancy to. I can hear Sally Andrews now,when she found the frog in her desk. Itjumped right into her face, and fell intoher apron-pocket, we wore aprons withbig pockets then, and she screamed soshe had to be taken home. That was thekind of prank Solomon was up to,every day of his life; and fishing forschoolmaster's wig through theskylight, and every crinkum-crankum

that ever was. Master Bayley used to goto sleep every recess, and the skylightwas just over his head. Dear me, Sirs,how that wig did look, sailing up intothe air!"

"I wish't ours wore a wig!" said Tommy,thoughtfully; then his eyes brightened."Isaac Weight's skeered of frogs!" hesaid. "The apron-pockets made it better,though, of course. More, please!"

"Isaac Weight That's the deacon's eldestbrat, isn't it "

"Yes'm!"

"His grandfather was named Isaac,

too," said Mrs. Tree. "This one is namedfor him, I suppose. Isaac Weight thefirst one was called Squash-nose atschool, I remember. He wasn't popular,and I understand Ephraim, his son,wasn't either. They called him Meal-bag,and he looked it. Te-hee!" she laughed,a little dry keckle, like the click ofcastanets. "Did ever I tell you the trickyour grandfather and my brotherplayed on old Elder Weight and SquireTree That was great-grandfather to thispresent Weight boy, and uncle to myhusband. The old squire was high inhis notions, very high; he thought butlittle of Weights, though he sat underElder Weight at that time. The Weightswere a good stock in the beginning, I've

been told, but even then they hadbegun to go down-hill. It was onesummer, and Conference was held herein Elmerton. The meetings were verylong, and every soul went that could.Elmerton was a pious place in thosedays. The afternoon sessions began attwo o'clock and lasted till seven. Theirbrains must have been made of iron orwood." Mrs. Tree clicked her castanetsagain.

"Well, sir, the last day there was a sightof business, and folks knew theafternoon meeting would be extra long.Elder Weight and his wife (she was aBonny; he'd never have been chosenelder if it hadn't been for her) were off

in good season, and locked the doorbehind them; they kept no help at thattime. The squire was off too, who buthe, stepping up the street dear me, Sirs,I can see him now, in his plum-coloredcoat and knee-breeches, silk stockingsand silver buckles to his shoes. He hada Malacca cane, I remember, with a bigivory knob on it, and he washed itnight and morning as if it were a baby.He was a very particular man, had hisshirt-frills done up with a silver friller.Well, those boys, Solomon Candy andTom Darracott (that was my brother),watched till they saw them safe in at themeeting-house door, and then they setto work. There was no one in theparsonage except the cat, and at the

Homestead there was only thehousekeeper, who was deaf as Dagon,well they knew. The other servants hadleave to go to meeting; every one wentthat could, as I said. Tom knew his wayall over the Homestead, our housebeing next door. No, it's not there now.It was burned down fifty years ago, andTom's dead as long. They took our oldhorse and wagon, and they slipped in atthe window of the squire's study, tookout his things, his desk and chair, hisfootstool, the screen he always keptbetween him and the fire, and dearknows what all, and loaded them up onthe wagon. They worked twice as hardat that imp's doing as they would athonest work, you may be bound. Then

they drove down to the parsonage withthe load, and tried round till they founda window unfastened, and in theycarried every single thing, into theelder's study, and then loaded up withhis rattletraps, and back to theHomestead. Working like beavers theywere, every minute of the afternoon.By five o'clock they had their job done;and then in goes Tom and asks dear oldGrandmother Darracott, who couldnot leave her room, and thought everyfox was a cosset lamb, did she thinkfather and mother (they were at themeeting too, of course) would let himand Sol Candy go and take tea andspend the night at Plum-tree Farm,three miles off, where our old nurse

lived. Grandmother said 'Yes, to besure!' for she was always pleased whenthe children remembered Nursey; sooff those two Limbs went, and lefttheir works behind them.

"Evening came, and Conference wasover at last; and here comes the squirehome, stepping along proud and statelyas ever, but mortal head-weary underthe pride of his wig, for he was an oldman, and grudged his age, neversparing himself. He went straight intohis study it was dusk by now anddropped into the first chair, and so tosleep. By and by old Martha came andlighted the candles, but she nevernoticed anything. Why people's wits

should wear out like old shoes is athing I never could understand; unlessthey're made of leather in the firstplace, and sometimes it seems so. Thesquire had his nap out, I suppose, andthen he woke up. When he opened hiseyes, there in front of him, instead ofhis tall mahogany desk, was aramshackle painted thing, with nohandles to the drawers, and all coveredwith ink. He looked round, and whatdoes he see but strange thingseverywhere; strange to his eyes, and yethe knew them. There was a hairclothsofa and three chairs, and on the walls,in place of his fine prints, was a pictureof Elder Weight's father, and a coupleof mourning pictures, weeping-willows

and urns and the like, and Abrahamand Isaac done in worsted-work, thathe'd seen all his days in the parsonageparlor. Very likely they are there still."

"Yes," said Tommy, "I see 'em in hissettin'-room."

"Saw, not see!" said Mrs. Tree. "Yourgrandfather spoke better English thanyou do, Tommy Candy. Learn grammarwhile you are young, or you'll neverlearn it. Well, sir, the next I know is, Iwas sitting in my high chair at supperwith father and mother, when the dooropens and in walks the old squire. Hiseyes were staring wild, and his wigcocked over on one ear he was a sight

to behold! He stood in the door, andcried out in a loud voice, 'ThomasDarracott, who am I '

"My father was a quiet man, and slowto speak, and his first thought was thatthe squire had lost his wits.

"'Who are you, neighbor ' he says.'Come in; come in, and we'll see.'

"The squire rapped with his stick onthe floor. 'Who am I ' he shouted out.'Am I Jonathan Tree, or am I thatthundering, blundering gogglepate,Ebenezer Weight '

"Well, well! the words were hardly out

of his mouth when there was a greatnoise outside, and in comes ElderWeight with his wife after him, and hein a complete caniption, screeching thathe was possessed of a devil, anddesired the prayers of the congregation.(My father was senior deacon at thattime.)

"'I have broken the tenthcommandment!' he cried. 'I havecoveted Squire Tree's desk andfurniture, and now I see the appearanceof them in mine own room, and Iknow that Satan has me fast in his grip.'

"Ah, well! It's not good for you to hearthese things, Tommy Candy. Solomon

was a naughty boy, and Tom Darracottwas another, and they well deserved theweek of bread and water they got. Iexpect you make a third, if all was told.They grew up good men, though, andmind you do the same. Have you eatenall the almonds "

"'Most all!" said Tommy, modestly.

"Put the rest in your pocket, then, andrun along and ask Direxia to give you aspice-cake. Leave the fig-paste. The birdlikes a bit with his supper. What are youthinking of, Tommy Candy "

Tommy rumpled his spiky hair, andgave her an elfish glance. "Candys don't

seem to like Weightses," he said."Grampy didn't, nor Dad don't; nor Idon't."

"Here, you may have the fig-paste," saidthe old lady. "Shut the drawer. Mindyou, Solomon, nor Tom either, ever didthem any real harm. Solomon was akind boy, only mischievous that was allthe harm there was to him. Even whenhe painted Isaac Weight's nose instripes, he meant no harm in the world;but 'twas naughty all the same. He saidhe did it to make him look prettier, andI don't know but it did. Don't you doany such things, do you hear "

"Yes'm," said Tommy Candy.

CHAPTER IV.

OLD FRIENDS

It was drawing on toward supper-time,of a chill October day. Mrs. Tree wassitting in the twilight, as she loved todo, her little feet on the fender, her satinskirt tucked up daintily, a Chinesehand-screen in her hand. It seemedunlikely that the moderate heat of thedriftwood fire would injure hercomplexion, which consisted chiefly ofwrinkles, as has been said; but shealways had shielded her face from the

fire, and she always would it was theproper thing to do. The parlor gloomedand lightened around her, the shiftinglight touching here a bit of goldlacquer, there a Venetian mirror or anivory statuette. The fire purred andcrackled softly; there was no othersound. The tiny figure in the ebonychair was as motionless as one of theIndian idols that grinned at her fromher mantelshelf.

A ring at the door-bell, the shufflingsound of Direxia's soft shoes; then theopening door, and a man's voice askingsome question.

In an instant Mrs. Tree sat live and alert,

her ears pricked, her eyes black pointsof attention. Direxia's voice responded,peevish and resistant, refusingsomething. The man spoke again,urging some plea.

"Direxia!" said Mrs. Tree.

"Yes'm. Jest a minute. I'm seeing tosomething."

"Direxia Hawkes!"

When Mrs. Tree used both names,Direxia knew what it meant. Sheappeared at the parlor door, flushedand defiant.

"How you do pester me, Mis' Tree!There's a man at the door, a tramp, andI don't want to leave him alone."

"What does he look like "

"I don't know; he's a tramp, if he'snothing worse. Wants something to eat.Most likely he's stealin' the umbrellaswhile here I stand!"

"Show him in here," said Mrs. Tree.

"What say "

"Show him in here; and don't pretendto be deaf, when you hear as well as Ido."

"The dogs I was going to say! Youdon't want him in here, Mis' Tree. He'sa tramp, I tell ye, and the toughest-lookin' "

"Will you show him in here, or shall Icome and fetch him "

"Well! of all the cantankerous here!come in, you! she wants to see you!"and Direxia, holding the door in herhand, beckoned angrily to some oneinvisible. There was a murmur, areluctant shuffle, and a man appearedin the doorway and stood lowering, hiseyes fixed on the ground; a tall, slightman, with stooping shoulders, and

delicate pointed features. He wasshabbily dressed, yet there wassomething fastidious in his air, and itwas noticeable that the threadbareclothes were clean.

Mrs. Tree looked at him; looked again."What do you want here " she asked,abruptly.

The man's eyes crept forward to herlittle feet, resting on the brass fender,and stopped there.

"I asked for food," he said. "I amhungry."

"Are you a tramp "

"Yes, madam."

"Anything else "

The man was silent.

"There!" said Direxia, impatiently."That'll do. Come out into the kitchenand I'll give ye something in a bag, andyou can take it with you."

"I shall be pleased to have you takesupper with me, sir!" said the old lady,pointedly addressing the tramp."Direxia, set a place for this gentleman."

The color rushed over the man's face.

He started, and his eyes crept half-wayup the old lady's dress, then droppedagain.

"I cannot, madam!" he said, with aneffort. "I thank you, but you mustexcuse me."

"Why can't you "

This time the eyes travelled as far as thediamond brooch, and rested therecuriously.

"You must excuse me!" repeated theman, laboriously. "If your woman willgive me a morsel in the kitchen or I'dbetter go at once!" he said, breaking off

suddenly. "Good evening!"

"Stop!" said Mrs. Tree, striking herebony stick sharply on the floor. Therewas an instant of dead silence, no onestirring.

"Direxia," she added, presently, "go andset another place for supper!"

Direxia hesitated. The stick struck thefloor again, and she vanished,muttering.

"Shut the door!" Mrs. Treecommanded, addressing the stranger."Come here and sit down! No, not onthat cheer. Take the ottoman with the

bead puppy on it. There!"

As the man drew forward the ottomanwithout looking at it, and sat down, sheleaned back easily in her chair, andspoke in a half-confidential tone:

"I get crumpled up, sitting here alone.Some day I shall turn to wood. I like anew face and a new notion. I had agrandson who used to live with me,and I'm lonesome since he died. Howdo you like tramping, now "

"Pretty well," said the man. He spokeover his shoulder, and kept his facetoward the fire; it was a chilly evening."It's all right in summer, or when a man

has his health."

"See things, hey " said the old lady."New folks, new faces Get ideas; is thatit "

The man nodded gloomily.

"That begins it. After awhile I reallythink I must go!" he said, breaking offshort. "You are very kind, madam, but Iprefer to go. I am not fit "

"Cat's foot!" said Mrs. Tree, andwatched him like a cat.

He fell into a fit of helpless laughter,and laughed till the tears ran down his

cheeks. He felt for a pocket-handkerchief.

"Here's one!" said Mrs. Tree, andhanded him a gossamer square. Hetook it mechanically. His hand was longand slim and clean.

"Supper's ready!" snapped Direxia,glowering in at the door.

"I will take your arm, if you please!"said Mrs. Tree to the tramp, and theywent in to supper together.

Mrs. Tree's dining-room, like her parlor,was a treasury of rare woods. The oldmahogany, rich with curious brass-

work, shone darkly brilliant against thepanels of satin-wood; the floor was amosaic of bits from Captain Tree'swoodpile, as he had been used to callthe tumbled heap of preciousfragments which grew after everyvoyage to southern or eastern islands.The room was lighted by candles; Mrs.Tree would have no other light.Kerosene she called nasty, smelly stuff,and gas a stinking smother. She likedstrong words, especially when theyshocked Miss Phoebe's sense ofdelicacy. As for electricity, Elmertonknew it not in her day.

The shabby man seemed in a kind ofdream. Half unconsciously he put the

old lady into her seat and pushed herchair up to the table; then at a signfrom her he took the seat opposite. Helaid the damask napkin across hisknees, and winced at the touch of it, asat the caress of a long-forgotten hand.Mrs. Tree talked on easily, askingquestions about the roads he travelledand the people he met. He answered asbriefly as might be, and ate sparingly.Still in a dream, he took the cup of teashe handed him, and setting it down,passed his finger over the handle. It wasa tiny gold Mandarin, clinging withhands and feet to the side of the cup.The man gave another helpless laugh,and looked about him as if for a doorof escape.

Suddenly, close at his elbow, a voicespoke; a harsh, rasping voice, withnothing human in it.

"Old friends!" said the voice.

The man started to his feet, white as thenapkin he held.

"My God!" he said, violently.

"It's only the parrot!" said Mrs. Tree,comfortably. "Sit down again. There heis at your elbow. Jocko is his name. Hedoes my swearing for me. My grandsonand a friend of his taught him that, andI have taught him a few other things

beside. Good Jocko! speak up, boy!"

"Old friends to talk!" said the parrot."Old books to read; old wine to drink!Zooks! hooray for Arthur and Will!they're the boys!"

"That was my grandson and his friend,"said the old lady, never taking her eyesfrom the man's face. "What's the matterfeel faint, hey "

"Yes," said the man. He was leaning onthe back of his chair, fighting somespasm of feeling. "I am faint. I must getout into the air."

The old lady rose briskly and came to

his side. "Nothing of the sort!" shesaid. "You'll come up-stairs and liedown."

"No! no! no!" cried the man, and witheach word his voice rang out louderand sharper as the emotion he wasfighting gripped him closer. "Not inthis house. Never! Never!"

"Cat's foot!" said Mrs. Tree. "Don't talkto me! Here! give me your arm! Do as Isay! There!"

"Old friends!" said the parrot.

* * * * *

"I'm going to loose the bulldog, Mis'Tree," said Direxia, from the foot ofthe stairs; "and Deacon Weight sayshe'll be over in two minutes."

"There isn't any dog in the house," saidMrs. Tree, over the balusters, "andDeacon Weight is at Conference, andwon't be back till the last of the week.That will do, Direxia; you mean well,but you are a ninnyhammer. This way!"

She twitched the reluctant arm thatheld hers, and they entered a smallbedroom, hung with guns and rods.

"My grandson's room!" said Mrs. Tree."He died here hey "

The stranger had dropped her arm andstood shaking, staring about him withwild eyes. The ancient woman laid herhand on his, and he started as at anelectric shock.

"Come, Willy," she said, "lie down andrest."

He was at her feet now, half-crouching,half-kneeling, holding the hem of hersatin gown in his shaking clutch,sobbing aloud, dry-eyed as yet.

"Come, Willy," she repeated, "lie downand rest on Arthur's bed. You are tired,boy."

"I came " the shaking voice steadieditself into words, "I came to rob you,Mrs. Tree."

"Why, so I supposed, Will; at least, Ithought it likely. You can have all youwant, without that there's plenty foryou and me. Folks call me close, and Ilike to do what I like with my ownmoney. There's plenty, I tell you, foryou and me and the bird. Do you thinkhe knew you, Willy I believe he did."

"God knows! When how did you knowme, Mrs. Tree "

"Get up, Willy Jaquith, and I'll tell you.

Sit down; there's the chair you madetogether, when you were fifteen.Remember, hey I knew your voice atthe door, or I thought I did. Thenwhen you wouldn't look at the beadpuppy, I hadn't much doubt; and whenI said 'Cat's foot!' and you laughed, Iknew for sure. You've had a hard time,Willy, but you're the same boy."

"If you would not be kind," said theman, "I think it would be easier. Youought to give me up, you know, and letme go to jail. I'm no good. I'm avagrant and a drunkard, and worse. Butyou won't, I know that; so now let mego. I'm not fit to stay in Arthur's roomor lie on his bed. Give me a little

money, my dear old friend yes, theparrot knew me! and let me go!"

"Hark!" said the old woman.

She went to the door and listened. Herkeen old face had grown wonderfullysoft in the last hour, but now itsharpened and hardened to the likenessof a carved hickory-nut.

"Somebody at the door," she said,speaking low. "Malvina Weight."

She came back swiftly into the room."That press is full of Arthur's clothes;take a bath and dress yourself, and restawhile; then come down and talk to me.

Yes, you will! Do as I say! Willy Jaquith,if you try to leave this house, I'll set theparrot on you. Remember the day hebit you for stealing his apple, andserved you right There's the scar still onyour cheek. Greatest wonder he didn'tput your eyes out!"

She slipped out and closed the doorafter her; then stood at the head of thestairs, listening.

Mrs. Ephraim Weight, a ponderouswoman with a chronic tremolo, was inthe hall, a knitted shawl over her headand shoulders.

"I've waited 'most an hour to see that

tramp come out," she was saying."Deacon's away, and I was scairt todeath, but I'm a mother, and I had tocome. How I had the courage I don'tknow, when I thought you and Mis'Tree might meet my eyes both layin'dead in this entry. Where is he Don'tyou help or harbor him now, DirexiaHawkes! I saw his evil eye as he stoodon the doorstep, and I knew by the wayhe peeked and peered that he was afterno good. Where is he I know he didn'tgo out. Hush! don't say a word! I'll slipout and round and get Hiram Sawyer.My boys is to singing-school, and it wasa Special Ordering that I happened tolook out of window just that momentof time. Where did you say he "

"Oh, do let me speak, Mis' Weight!"broke in Direxia, in a shrill half-whisper. "Don't speak so loud! She'llhear ye, and she's in one of her takings,and I dono lands sakes, I don't knowwhat to do! I dono who he is, orwhence he comes, but she "

"Direxia Hawkes!" barked Mrs. Treefrom the head of the stairs.

"There! you hear her!" murmuredDirexia. "Oh, she is the beat of all! I'mcomin', Mis' Tree!"

She fled up the stairs; her mistress,bending forward, darted a whispered

arrow at her.

"Oh, my Solemn Deliverance!" criedDirexia Hawkes.

"Hot water, directly, and don't make afool of yourself!" said Mrs. Tree; andher stick tapped its way down-stairs.

"Good evening, Malvina. What can Ido for you Pray step in."

Mrs. Weight sidled into the parlorbefore a rather awful wave of theebony stick, and sat down on the edgeof a chair near the door. Mrs. Treecrossed the room to her own high-backed armchair, took her seat

deliberately, put her feet on the crimsonhassock, and leaned forward, restingher hands on the crutch-top of herstick, and her chin on her hands. In thisattitude she looked more elfin thanhuman, and the light that danced in herblack eyes was not of a reassuringnature.

"What can I do for you " she repeated.

Mrs. Weight bridled, and spoke in atone half-timid, half-defiant.

"I'm sure, Mis' Tree, it's not on my ownaccount I come. I'm the last one tointrude, as any one in this village cantell you. But you are an anncient

woman, and your neighbors are boundto protect you when need is. I see thattramp come in here with my own eyes,and he's here for no good."

"What tramp " asked Mrs. Tree.

"Good land, Mis' Tree, didn't you seehim He slipped right in past Direxia. Isee him with these eyes."

"When "

"'Most an hour ago. I've been watchingever since. Don't tell me you didn'tknow about him bein' here, Mis' Tree,now don't."

"I won't," said Mrs. Tree, benevolently.

"He's hid away somewheres!" Mrs.Weight continued, with risingexcitement. "Direxia Hawkes has hidhim; he's an accomplish of hers. You'vealways trusted that woman, Mis' Tree,but I tell you I've had my eye on herthese ten years, and now I've found herout. She's hid him away somewheres, Itell you. There's cupboards and clusetsenough in this house to hide a wholegang of cutthroats in and when you'reabed and asleep they'll have your life,them two, and run off with yourworldly goods that you've thought somuch of. Would have, that is, if Ihadn't have had a Special Ordering to

look out of winder. Oh, how thankfulshould I be that I kep' the use of mylimbs, though I was scairt 'most todeath, and am now."

"Yes, they might be useful to you," saidMrs. Tree, "to get home with, forinstance. There, that will do, MalvinaWeight. There is no tramp here. Youreyesight is failing; there were alwaysweak eyes in your family. There's notramp here, and there has been none."

"Mis' Tree! I tell you I see him withthese "

"Bah! don't talk to me!" Mrs. Treeblazed into sudden wrath. But next

instant she straightened herself overher cane, and spoke quietly.

"Good night, Malvina. You mean well,and I bear no malice. I'm obliged toyou for your good intentions. Whatyou took for a tramp was a gentlemanwho has come to stay overnight withme. He's up-stairs now. Did you lockyour door when you came out Thereare tramps about, so I've heard, and ifEphraim is away well, good night, ifyou must hurry. Direxia, lock the doorand put the chain up; and if anybodyelse calls to-night, set the bird on 'em."

CHAPTER V.

"BUT WHEN HE WAS YET AGREAT WAY OFF"

"And so when she ran away and leftyou, you took to drink, Willy. Thatwasn't very sensible, was it "

"I didn't care," said William Jaquith. "Ithelped me to forget for a bit at a time. Ithought I could give it up any day, but Ididn't. Then I lost my place, of course,and started to come East, and had mypocket picked in Denver, every cent Ihad. I tried for work there, but betweensickness and drink I wasn't good formuch. I started tramping. I thought I

would tramp it was last spring, andwarm weather coming on till I'd got myhealth back, and then I'd steady downand get some work, and come back toMother when I was fit to look her inthe face. Then in some place, I forgetwhat, though I know the pattern of thewall-paper by the table where I wassitting I came upon a King's Countypaper with Mother's death in it."

"What!" said Mrs. Tree, straighteningherself over her stick.

"Oh, it didn't make so muchdifference," Jaquith went on, dreamily."I wasn't fit to see her, I knew that wellenough; only it was a green paper, with

splotchy yellow flowers on it. Fifteenflowers to a row; I counted them overseven times before I could be sure.Well, I was sick again after that, I don'tknow how long; some kind of fever.When I got up again something wasgone out of me, something that hadkept me honest till then. I made up mymind that I would get money somehow,I didn't much care how. I thought ofyou, and the gold counters you used tolet Arthur and me play with, so that wemight learn not to think too much ofmoney. You remember I thought Imight get some of those, and youmight not miss them. You didn't needthem, anyhow, I thought. Yes, I knewyou would give them to me if I asked

for them, but I wasn't going to ask. Icame here to-night to see if there wasany man or dog about the house. Ifnot, I meant to slip in by and by at thepantry window; I remembered the trickof the spring. I forgot Jocko. There!now you know all. You ought to giveme up, Mrs. Tree, but you won't dothat."

"No, I won't do that!" said the oldwoman.

She looked at him thoughtfully. Hiseyes were wandering about the room, apainful pleasure growing in them asthey rested on one object after another.Beautiful eyes they were, in shape and

color if the light were not gone out ofthem.

"The bead puppy!" he said, presently. "Ican remember when we wondered if itcould bark. We must have been prettysmall then. When did Arthur die, Mrs.Tree I hadn't heard I supposed he wasstill in Europe."

"Two years ago."

"Was it " something seemed to chokethe man.

"Fretting for her " said Mrs. Tree,sharply. "No, it wasn't. He found herout before you did, Willy. He knew

you'd find out, too; he knew who wasto blame, and that she turned yourhead and set you crazy. 'Be good to oldWill if you ever have a chance!' that wasone of the last things he said. He hadgrippe, and pneumonia after it, only aweek in all."

Jaquith turned his head away. For atime neither spoke. The fire purred andcrackled comfortably in the widefireplace. The heat brought out thescent of the various woods, and the airwas alive with warm perfume. The dim,antique richness of the little parlorseemed to come to a point in the small,alert figure, upright in the ebony chair.The firelight played on her gleaming

satin and misty laces, and lighted thefine lines of her wrinkled face. Verysoft the lines seemed now, but it mightbe the light.

"Arthur Blyth taken and Will Jaquithleft!" said the young man, softly. "Iwonder if God always knows what heis about, Mrs. Tree. Are there stillcandied cherries in the sandalwoodcupboard I know the orange cordial isthere in the gold-glass decanter with thelittle fat gold tumblers."

"Yes, the cordial is there," said Mrs.Tree. "It's a pity I can't give you a glass,Willy; you'll need it directly, but youcan't have it. Feel better, hey "

William Jaquith raised his head, andmet the keen kindness of her eyes; forthe first time a smile broke over hisface, a smile of singular sweetness.

"Why, yes, Mrs. Tree!" he said. "I feelbetter than I have since I don't knowwhen. I feel almost like a man again. It'sbetter than the cordial just to look atyou, and smell the wood, and feel thefire. What a pity one cannot die whenone wants to. This would be ceasing onthe midnight without pain, wouldn't it"

"Why don't you give up drink " askedMrs. Tree, abruptly.

"Where's the use " said Jaquith. "Iwould if there were any use, butMother's dead."

"Cat'sfoot-fiddlestick-folderol-fudge!"blazed the old woman. "She's no moredead than I am. Don't talk to me! holdon to yourself now, Willy Jaquith, anddon't make a scene; it is a thing Icannot abide. It was Maria Jaquith thatdied, over at East Corners. Small lossshe was, too. None of that family wasever worth their salt. The fool whowrites for the papers put her in 'Mary,'and gave out that she died here inElmerton just because they brought herhere to bury. They've always buried here

in the family lot, as if they were ofsome account. I was afraid you mighthear of it, Willy, and wrote to the lastplace I heard of you in, but of courseit was no use. Mary Jaquith is alive, I tellyou. Now where are you going "

Jaquith had started to his feet, deadwhite, his eyes shining like candles.

"To Mother!"

"Yes, I would! wake her up out of asound sleep at ten o'clock at night, andscare her into convulsions. Sit down,Willy Jaquith; do as I tell you! There! feelpretty well, hey Your mother is blind."

"Oh, Mother! Mother! and I have lefther alone all this time."

"Exactly! now don't go into a caniption,for it won't do any good. You must goto bed now, and, what's more, go tosleep; and we'll go down together in themorning. Here's Direxia now with thegruel. There! hush! don't say a word!"

The old serving-woman enteredbearing a silver tray, on which was acovered bowl of India china, a smallsilver saucepan, and something coveredwith a napkin. William Jaquith went toa certain corner and brought out ateapoy of violet wood, which he setdown at the old lady's elbow.

"There!" said Direxia Hawkes. "Did youever "

She was shaking all over, but she set thetray down carefully. Jaquith took thesaucepan from her hand and set it onthe hob. Then he lifted the napkin.Under it were two plates, one ofbiscuits, the other of small cakesshaped like a letter S.

"Snaky cakies!" said Will Jaquith. "Oh,Direxia! give me a cake and I'll give youa kiss! Is that right, you dear old thing "

He stooped to kiss the withered browncheek; the old woman caught up her

apron to her face.

"It's him! it's him! it's one of my littleboys, but where's the other Oh, Mis'Tree, I can't stand it! I can't stand it!"

Mrs. Tree watched her, dry-eyed.

"Cry away, so long as you don't cry intothe gruel," she said, kindly. "You are anold goose, Direxia Hawkes. I haven'tbeen able to cry for ten years, Willy.Here! take the 'postle spoon and stir it.Has she brought a cup for you "

"Well, I should hope I had!" saidDirexia, drying her eyes. "I ain't quitelost my wits, Mis' Tree."

"You never had enough to lose!"retorted her mistress. "Hark! there'sJocko wanting his gruel. Bring him in;and mind you take a sup yourselfbefore you go to bed, Direxia! You'reall shaken up."

"Gadzooks!" said the parrot. "The cupthat cheers! Go to bed, Direxia! DirexiaHawkes, wife of Guy Fawkes!"

"Now look at that!" said Direxia. "Ain'tyou ashamed, Willy Jaquith He ain'tsaid that since you went away."

* * * * *

The next morning was bright and clear.Mrs. Malvina Weight, sweeping herfront chamber, with an anxious eye onthe house opposite, saw the door openand Mrs. Tree come out, followed by atall young man. The old lady wore thehuge black velvet bonnet, surmountedby a bird of paradise, which she hadbrought from Paris forty years before,and an India shawl which had pointeda moral to the pious of Elmerton formore than that length of time."Adorning her perishing back withwhat would put food in the mouth oftwenty Christian heathens for a year!"was the way Mrs. Weight herselfexpressed it.

This morning, however, Mrs. Weighthad no eyes for her aged neighbor.Every faculty she possessed was benton proving the identity of the stranger.He kept his face turned from her in away that was most exasperating. Couldit be the man she saw last night If hereyes were going as bad as that, she mustsee the optician next time he camethrough the village, and be fitted a newpair of glasses; it was scandalous, afterpaying him the price she did no morethan five years ago, and him sayingthey'd last her lifetime. Why, this was agentleman, sure enough. It must be thesame, and them shadows, looking likerags, deceived her. Well, anybody living,except Mis' Tree, would have said his

name, if it wasn't but just forneighborliness. Who could it be Notthat Doctor Strong back again, justwhen they were well rid of him No,this man was taller, and stoop-shouldered. Seemed like she had seenthat back before.

She gazed with passionate yearning tillthe pair passed out of sight, the ancientwoman leaning on the young man'sarm, yet stepping briskly along, herebony staff tapping the sidewalksmartly.

Mrs. Weight called over the stairs.

"Isick, be you there "

"Yep!"

"Why ain't you to school, I'd like toknow Since you be here, jest run roundthrough Candy's yard and come backalong the street, that's a good boy, andsee who that is Mis' Tree's got withher."

"I can't! I got the teethache!" whinedIsaac.

"It won't hurt your teethache any. Runnow, and I'll make you a saucer-pie nexttime I'm baking."

"You allers say that, and then you

never!" grumbled Isaac, draggingreluctant feet toward the door.

"Isick Weight, don't you speak to melike that! I'll tell your pa, if you don'tdo as I tell you."

"Well, ain't I goin', quick as I can Iwon't go through Candy's yard, though;that mean Tom Candy's waitin' for menow with a big rock, 'cause I got himsent home for actin' in school. I'll goand ask the man who he is. S'pose heknows."

"You won't do nothing of the sort.There! no matter it's too late now.You're a real aggravatin', naughty-actin'

boy, Isick Weight, and I believe you'vebeen sent home your own self forcuttin' up not that I doubt TommyCandy was, too. I shall ask your fatherto whip you good when he gits home."

* * * * *

"Well, Mary Jaquith, here you sit."

"Mrs. Tree! Is this you My dear soul,what brings you out so early in themorning Come in! come in! Who iswith you "

"I didn't say any one was with me!"snapped Mrs. Tree. "Don't you go tosetting up double-action ears like mine,

Mary, because you are not old enough.How are you obstinate as ever "

The blind woman smiled. In her plainprint dress, she had the air of amasquerading duchess, and her blueeyes were as clear and beautiful as thosewhich were watching her from thedoor.

"Take this chair," she said, pushingforward a straight-backed armchair."It's the one you always like. How am Iobstinate, dear Mrs. Tree "

"If I've asked you once to come andlive with me, I've asked you fifty times,"grumbled the old lady, sitting down

with a good deal of flutter and rustle."There I must stay, left alone at my age,with nobody but that old goose of aDirexia Hawkes to look after me. Andall because you like to be independent.Set you up! Well, I sha'n't ask you again,and so I've come to tell you, MaryJaquith."

"Dear old friend, you forgive me, Iknow. You never can have thought for amoment, seriously, that I could be aburden on your kind hands. Theresurely is some one with you, Mrs. Tree!Is it Direxia Please be seated, whoever itis."

She turned her beautiful face and clear,

quiet eyes toward the door. There was aslight sound, as of a sob checked in theoutbreak. Mrs. Tree shook her head,fiercely. The blind woman rose fromher seat, very pale.

"Who is it " she said. "Be kind, please,and tell me."

"I'm going to tell you," said Mrs. Tree,"if you will have patience for twominutes, and not drive every idea outof my head with your questions. Mary,I I had a visitor last night. Some onecame to see me an old acquaintancewho had who had heard of Willy lately.Willy is doing well, my dear. Now, MaryJaquith, if you don't sit down, I won't

say another word. Of all theunreasonable women I ever saw in mylife "

Mrs. Tree stopped, and rose abruptlyfrom her seat. The blind woman washolding out her arms with a heavenlygesture of appeal, of welcome, of loveunutterable: her face was the face of anangel. Another moment, and her son'sarms were round her, and her head onhis bosom, and he was crying over andover again, "Mother! mother! mother!"as if he could not have enough of theword.

"Arthur was a nice boy, too!" said Mrs.Tree, as she closed the door behind her.

* * * * *

Five minutes later, Mrs. Weight,hurrying up the plank walk which ledto the Widow Jaquith's door, wasconfronted by the figure of heropposite neighbor, sitting on the frontdoorstep, leaning her chin on her stick,and looking, as Mrs. Weight told thedeacon afterward, like Satan'sgrandmother.

"Want to see Mary Jaquith " asked Mrs.Tree. "Well, she's engaged, and youcan't. Here! give me your arm, Viny, andtake me over to the girls'. I want to seehow Phoebe is this morning. She was

none too spry yesterday."

CHAPTER VI.

THE NEW POSTMASTER

Politics had little hold in Elmerton.When any question of public interestwas to be settled, the elders of thevillage met and settled it; if theydisagreed among themselves, they wentto Mrs. Tree, and she told them what todo. People sometimes wondered whatwould happen when Mrs. Tree died,but there seemed no immediate dangerof this.

"Truth and Trees live forever!" was thesaying in the village.

When Israel Nudd, the postmaster,died, Elmerton found little difficulty inrecommending his successor. The dayafter his funeral, the elders assembled atthe usual place of meeting, the post-office piazza. This was a narrowplatform running along one side of thepost-office building, and commandinga view of the sea. A row of chairsstood along the wall on their hind legs.They might be supposed to have lostthe use of their fore legs, simplybecause they never were used. In thesechairs the elders sat, and surveyed the

prospect.

"Tide's makin'," said John Peavey.

No one seemed inclined to contradictthis statement.

"Water looks rily," John Peaveycontinued. "Goin' to be a change o'weather."

"I never see no sense in that," remarkedSeth Weaver. "Why should a change ofweather make the water rily beforehandBesides, it ain't."

"My Uncle Ammi lived to a hundredand two," said John Peavey, slowly, "and

he never doubted it. You're allerscontrary, Seth. If I said I had a nose onmy face, you'd say it warn't so."

"Wal, some might call it one," rejoinedSeth, with a cautious glance. "I ain'tfond of committin' myself."

"Meetin' come to order!" said SalemRock, interrupting this preliminarybadinage.

"Brether I I would say, gentlemen, wehave met to recommend a postmasterfor this village, in the room of IsraelNudd, diseased. What is your pleasurein this matter I s'pose Homer'd oughtto have it, hadn't he "

The conclave meditated. No one hadthe smallest doubt that Homer ought tohave it, but it was not well to decidematters too hastily.

"Homer's none too speedy," saidAbram Cutter. "He gets to moonin'over the mail sometimes, and it seemsas if you'd git Kingdom Come beforeyou got the paper. But I never see noharm in Home."

"Not a mite," was the general verdict.

"Homer's as good as gingerbread," saidSalem Rock, heartily. "He knows thebusiness, ben in it sence he was a boy,

and there's no one else doos. My'pinion, he'd oughter have the job."

He spoke emphatically, and all theothers glanced at him with approval;but there was no hurry. The mail wouldnot be in for half an hour yet.

"There's the Fidely," said Seth Weaver."Goin' up river for logs, I expect."

A dingy tug came puffing by. As shepassed, a sooty figure waved asalutation, and the whistle screechedthrice. Seth Weaver swung his hat inacknowledgment.

"Joe Derrick," he said. "Him and me

run her a spell together last year."

"How did she run " inquired JohnPeavey.

"Like a wu'm with the rheumatiz," wasthe reply. "The logs in the river used toroll over and groan, to see lumber puttogether in such shape. She ain't safe,neither. I told Joe so when I got out. Isays, 'It's time she was to her longhome,' I says, 'but I don't feel no call tobe one of the bearers,' I says. Joe'sreckless. I expect he'll keep right on tillshe founders under him, and then walkashore on his feet. They are bigger thansome rafts I've seen, I tell him."

"Speaking of bearers," said AbramCutter, "hadn't we ought to pass a voteof thanks to Isr'el, or something "

"What for turnin' up his toes " inquiredthe irrepressible Seth. "I dono as he didit to obleege us, did he "

"I didn't mean that," said Abram,patiently. "But he was postmaster heretwenty-five years, and seems's thoughwe'd ought to take some notice of it."

"That's so!" said Salem Rock. "You'reright, Abram. What we want is someresolutions of sympathy for the widder.That's what's usual in such cases."

"Humph!" said Seth Weaver.

The others looked thoughtful.

"How would you propose to wordthem resolutions, Brother Rock " askedEnoch Peterson, cautiously. "Iunderstand Mis' Nudd accepts her lot.Isr'el warn't an easy man to live with,I'm told by them as was neighbor tohim."

He glanced at Seth Weaver, who clearedhis throat and gazed seaward. Theothers waited. Presently

"If I was drawin' up them resolutions,"Weaver said, slowly, "'pears to me I

should say something like this:

"'Resolved, that Isr'el Nudd was a goodpostmaster, and done his work faithful;and resolved, that we tender his widderall the respeckful sympathy sherequires.' And a peanut-shell to put itin!" he added, in a lower tone.

Salem Rock pulled out a massive silverwatch and looked at it.

"I got to go!" he said. "Let's boil thisdown! All present who want HomerHollopeter for postmaster, say so;contrary-minded It's a vote! We'll sendthe petition to Washin'ton. Nextquestion is, who'll he have for an

assistant "

There was a movement of chairs, aswith fresh interest in the new topic.

"I was intendin' to speak on that p'int!"piped up a little man at the end of therow, who had not spoken before.

"What do we need of an assistantHomer Hollopeter could do the workwith one hand, except Christmas andNew Years. There ain't room enough inthere to set a hen, anyway."

"Who wants to set hens in the post-office " demanded Seth Weaver."There's cacklin' enough goes on there

without that. I expect about the size ofit is, you'd like more room to set by thestove, without no eggs to set on."

"I was only thinkin' of savin' thegov'ment!" said the little man, uneasily.

"I reckon gov'ment's big enough totake care of itself!" said Seth Weaver.

"There's allers been an assistant," saidSalem Rock, briefly. "Question is, whoto have "

At this moment a window-blind wasdrawn up, and the meek head of Mr.Homer Hollopeter appeared at theopen window.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen!" he said,nervously. A great content shone in hismild brown eyes, indeed, he must haveheard every word that had been spoken,but he shuffled his feet and twitchedthe blind uneasily after he had spoken.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Postmaster!" saidSalem Rock, heartily.

"Congratulations, Home!" said SethWeaver. The others nodded andgrunted approvingly.

"There's nothing official yet, youunderstand," Salem Rock added, kindly;"but we've passed a vote, and the rest is

only a question of time."

"Only a question of time!" echoedAbram Cutter and John Peavey.

Mr. Homer drew himself up andsettled his sky-blue necktie.

"Gentlemen," he said, his voicefaltering a little at first, but gainingstrength as he went on, "I thank youfor the honor you do me. I am deeplysensible of it, and of the responsibilityof the position I am called upon to fill;to occupy; to a become a holder of."

"Have a lozenger, Home!" said SethWeaver, encouragingly.

"I am obliged to you, Seth; not any!"said Mr. Homer, slightly flustered. "Iwas about to say that my abilities, suchas they are, shall be henceforth devotedto the service to the amelioration; to themental, moral, and physical well-beingof my country and my fellow citizens.Ahem! I suppose I believe it is thecustom a in short, am I at liberty tochoose an assistant "

"We were just talkin' about that," saidSalem Rock.

"Yes, you choose your own assistant, ofcourse; but well, it's usual to choosesomeone that's agreeable to folks. I

believe the village has generally hadsome say in the matter; not officially,you understand, just kind ofcomplimentary. We nominate you, andyou kind o' consult us about who you'llhave in to help. That seems aboutsquare, don't it Doctor Stedmanrecommended you to Isr'el, Iremember."

There was an assenting hum.

Mr. Homer leaned out of the window,all his self-consciousness gone.

"Mr. Rock," he said, eagerly, "I wishmost earnestly I am greatly desirous ofhaving William Jaquith as my assistant.

I he appears to me a most suitableperson. I beg, gentlemen I hope, boys,that you will agree with me. The onlyson of his mother, and she is a widow."

He paused, and looked anxiously at theelders.

They had all turned toward him whenhe appeared, some even going so far asto set their chairs on four legs, andhitching them forward so that theymight command a view of theirbeneficiary.

But now, with one accord, they turnedtheir faces seaward, and became to allappearance deeply interested in a

passing sail.

"The only son of his mother, and she isa widow!" Mr. Homer repeated,earnestly.

Salem Rock crossed and recrossed hislegs uneasily.

"That's all very well, Homer," he said."No man thinks more of Scripturethan what I do, in its place; but thisain't its place. This ain't a question ofwidders, it's a question of the village.Will Jaquith is a crooked stick, and youknow it."

"He has been, Brother Rock, he has

been!" said Mr. Homer, eagerly. "I grantyou the past; but William is a changedman, he is, indeed. He has sufferedmuch, and a new spirit is born in him.His one wish is to be his mother's stayand support. If you were to see him,Brother Rock, and talk with him, I amsure you would feel as I do. Considerwhat the poet says: 'The quality ofmercy is not strained!'"

"Mebbe it ain't, so fur!" said SethWeaver; "question is, how strong itsback is. If I was Mercy, I shouldconsider Willy Jaquith quite a lug. Oldman Butters used to say:

"'Rollin' stones you keep your eyes on!

Some on 'em's pie, and some on 'em'spison.'"

" His appointment would be acceptableto the ladies of the village, I havereason to think," persisted Mr. Homer."My venerable relative, Mrs. Tree,expressed herself strongly " (Mr.Homer blinked two or three times, as ifrecalling something of an agitatingnature) "I may say very strongly, in favorof it; in fact, the suggestion came in thefirst place from her, though I had alsohad it in mind."

There was a change in the atmosphere;a certain rigidity of neck and set ofchin gradually softened and

disappeared. The elders shuffled theirfeet, and glanced one at another.

"It mightn't do no harm to give him atry," said Abram Cutter. "Homer's benclerk himself fifteen year, and he knowswhat's wanted."

"That's so," said the elders.

"After all," said Salem Rock, "it'sHomer has the appointin'; all we can dois advise. If you're set on givin' WillJaquith a chance, Homer, and if Mis'Tree answers for him why, I dono aswe'd ought to oppose it. Only, you keepyour eye on him! Meetin's adjourned."

The elders strolled away by ones andtwos, each with his word ofcongratulation or advice to the newpostmaster. Seth Weaver alone lingered,leaning on the window-ledge. His eyesshrewd blue eyes, with a twinkle inthem roamed over the rather squalidlittle room, with its two yellow chairs,its painted pine table and rusty stove.

"Seems curus without Isr'el," he said,meditatively. "Seems kind o' peacefuland empty, like the hole in your jawwhere you've had a tooth hauled; orlike stoppin' off takin' physic."

"Israel was an excellent postmaster,"said Mr. Homer, gently. "I thought your

resolutions were severe, Seth, though Iam aware that they were offered partlyin jest."

"You never lived next door to him!"said Seth.

CHAPTER VII.

IN MISS PENNY'S SHOP

One of the pleasantest places inElmerton was Miss Penny Pardon'sshop. Miss Penny (short for Penelope)and Miss Prudence were sisters; and asthere was not enough dressmaking in

the village to keep them both busy at allseasons, and as Miss Penny was lameand could not "go" much, as we say inthe village, she kept this little shop,through which one passed to reach theback parlor where Miss Prudence cutand fitted and stitched. It was a queerlittle shop. There were a few toys,chiefly dolls, beautifully dressed byMiss Prudence, with marbles and topsin their season for the boys; there was alittle fancy work, made by variousinvalid neighbors, which Miss Pennyundertook to sell "if 'twas so shecould," without profit to herself; a littlestationery, and a few small wares, threadand needles, hairpins and whaleboneand there were a great many birds.

Elmerton was a great place for cage-birds, and Miss Penny was "knowing"about them; consequently, when anybird was ailing, it was brought to herfor advice and treatment, and therewere seldom less than half a dozencages in the sunny window. One shelfwas devoted to stuffed birds, it beingthe custom, when a favorite died, topresent it to Miss Penny for hercollection; and thus the invalid canariesand mino birds were constantly taughtto know their end, which may or maynot have tended to raise their spirits.

One morning Miss Penny was bustlingabout her shop, feeding the birds andtalking to Miss Prudence, the door

between the two rooms being open.She was like a bird herself, Miss Penny,with her quick motions and bright eyes,her halting walk which was almost ahop, and a way she had of cocking herhead on one side as she talked.

"So I says, 'Of course I'll take him, Mis'Tree, and glad to. He'll be company forboth of us,' I says. And it's true. I'd fullas lieves hear that bird talk as manyfolks I know, and liever. I told her Iguessed about a week would set him upgood, taking the Bird Manna reg'lar,and the Bitters once in a while. A littletouch of asthmy is what he's got; ithasn't taken him down any, as I can see;he's as full of the old Sancho as ever.

Willy Jaquith brought him down thismorning, while you was to market.How that boy has improved! Why, he'san elegant-appearing young man now,and has such a pretty way with himwell, he always had that but now he'skind of sad and gentle. I shouldn'tsuppose he had any too long to live, theway he looks now. Well, hasn't MaryJaquith had a sight of trouble, for oneso good Dear me, Prudence, the dayshe married George Jaquith, she seemedto have the world at her feet, didn't she"

"Eheu fugaces," said a harsh voice from acorner.

"There, hear him!" said Miss Penny. "Ido admire to hear him speak French.Yes, Jocko, he was a clever boy, so hewas. Pretty soon Penny'll get round tohim, and give him a good washing, aBeauty Bird, and feed him somethingreal good."

"'Eheu fugaces, Postume, Postume, Labunturanni;'

tell that to your granny!" said Mrs.Tree's parrot, turning a bright yelloweye on her knowingly.

"Bless your heart, she wouldn'tunderstand if I did. She never had youradvantages, dear," said Miss Penny,

admiringly. "Here, now you have had anice nap, and I'll move you out into thesun, and give you a drop of BirdBitters. Take it now, a Beauty Boy.Prudence, I wish't you could see him;he's taking it just as clever! I never didsee the beat of this bird forknowingness."

"Malviny Weight was askin' me aboutthem Bitters," said Miss Prudence'svoice from the inner room. "Shewanted to know if there was alcohol in'em, and if you thought it was right totempt dumb critters."

"She didn't! Well, if she ain't a case!What did you say to her, Prudence

Hush! hush to goodness! Here she isthis minute. Good morning, Mis'Weight! You're quite a stranger. Realseasonable, ain't it, this mornin' "

"'Tis so!" responded the newcomer,who entered, breathing heavily. "I feelthe morning air, though, in my bronicaltubes. I hadn't ought to go out beforenoon, but I wanted to speak toPrudence about turnin' my brown skirt.Is she in "

"Yes'm, she's in. You can pass rightthrough. The door's open."

"Crickey!" said Mrs. Tree's parrot,"What a figurehead!"

"Who's that " demanded Mrs. Weight,angrily.

Miss Penny turned her back hastily, andbegan arranging toys on a shelf.

"Why, that's Mis' Tree's parrot, Mis'Weight," she said. "That's Jocko. Youmust know him as well as I do, andbetter, livin' opposite neighbor to her."

"I should think I did know him, for alimb of Satan!" said the visitor. "But Inever looked for him here. Is he sick Iwish to gracious he'd die. It's my beliefhe's possessed, like some others I knowof. I'm not one to spread, or I could tell

you stories about that bird "

She nodded mysteriously, and glancedat the parrot, who had turned upsidedown on his perch, and was surveyingher with a malevolent stare.

"Why, Mis' Weight, I was just sayin'how cute he was. He'll talk just as prettysometimes won't you, Jocko Saysomething for Mis' Weight, won't you,Beauty Boy "

"Helen was a beauty!" crooned theparrot, his head on one side, his eyesstill fixed on Mrs. Weight.

"Was she " said Miss Penny,

encouragingly. "I want to know! Now,who do you s'pose he means There'snobody name of Helen here now,except Doctor Pottle's little girl, and shesquints."

"Helen was a beauty, Xantippe was ashrew; Medusa was a Gorgon, And soare you!

Ha! ha! ha! crickey! she carries Weight,she rides a race, 'tis for a thousandpound. Screeeeeee!"

Swinging himself upright, the parrotflapped his wings, and uttered a blood-curdling shriek. Mrs. Weight gave asingle squawk, and fled into the inner

room, slamming the door violently afterher.

"How you can harbor Satan, PrudencePardon, is more than I canunderstand," she panted, purple withrage. "If there was a man in this village,he'd wring that bird's neck."

Miss Prudence was removing pins fromher mouth, preparatory to a reply, whenMiss Penny appeared, very pink, itmight be with indignation at theparrot's misconduct.

"There, Mis' Weight!" she said,soothingly, "I'm real sorry. You mustn'tmind what a bird says. It's only what

those wild boys taught him, ArthurBlyth and Willy Jaquith, and I'm sureneither one of 'em would do it to-day,let alone Arthur's being dead. Why, hesays it off same as he would a psalm, ifthey'd taught him that, as of course it'sa pity they didn't. You won't mind now,will you, Mis' Weight "

Mrs. Weight, very majestic, depositedher bundle on the table, and sat down.

"I say nothing of the dead," sheproclaimed, after a pause, "and but littleof the livin'; but I should be lawth tohave the load on my shoulders that Mis'Tree has. The Day of Judgment willattend to Arthur Blyth, but she is

responsible for Will Jaquith's comin'back to this village, and how she cansleep nights is a mystery to me. I thankGracious I see through him at once.Some may be deceived, but I'm not oneof 'em."

"Now, Mis' Weight, I wouldn't talk so,if I was you," said Miss Penny, stillsoothingly. "Willy Jaquith's doing realpretty in the office, everybody says. Mr.Homer's tickled to death to have himthere, and they've got the place slickedup so you wouldn't know it. I alwaysthought Homer Hollopeter had asufferin' time under Isr'el Nudd,though he never said anything. It's nothis way."

"What did you say you wanted donewith this skirt " asked Miss Prudence,breaking in. She had less patience thanMiss Penny, and she bent her steel-bowed spectacles on the visitor with alook which meant, "Come to business,if you have any!"

"Well, I don't hardly know!" said Mrs.Weight, unrolling her bundle. "I'm soupset with that screeching Limb there, Ifeel every minute as if I should havepalpitations. It does seem as if thelarger I got the frailer I was inside. Theco'ts of my stom "

"I thought you said 'twas a skirt!" Miss

Prudence broke in again, grimly.

"So 'tis. There! I got something on thisfront brea'th the other day, and it won'tcome out, try all I can. I thought mebbeyou could "

She plunged into depths of pressingand turning. At this moment the shop-bell rang, and Miss Penny slipped backto her post.

"Good mornin', Miss Vesta! Well, youare a sight for sore eyes, as the sayingis."

"I thank you, Penelope. How do youdo this morning " inquired Miss Vesta

Blyth. "I trust you and Prudence areboth well."

"Yes'm, we're real smart, sister 'n' meboth. Sister's had the lumbago somethis last week, and my limb has pesteredme so I couldn't step on it none toolively, but other ways we're real smart. Iexpect you've come to see about Darlin'here."

She took a cage from the window andplaced it on the counter. In it was ayellow canary, which at sight of itsmistress gave a joyous flap of itsgolden wings, and instantly broke intoa flood of song.

"Oh!" said Miss Vesta, with a soft cooof surprise and pleasure.

"He has found his voice again. And helooks quite, quite himself. Why,Penelope, what have you done to himto make such a difference in these fewdays Dear little fellow! I am so pleased!"

Miss Penny beamed. "I guess you ain'tno more pleased than I be," she said."There! I hated to see him sittin' dulland bunchy like he was when youbrought him in. I've ben givin' him BirdManna and Bitters right along, and I'vebathed them spots till they're all gone. Iguess you'll find him 'most as good asnew. Little Beauty Darlin', so he was!"

"Old friends!" said the parrot, rufflinghimself all over and looking at MissVesta. "Vesta, Vesta, how's Phoebe "

"Jocko here!" said Miss Vesta. "Goodmorning, Jocko!"

She put out a finger, and Jocko clawedit without ceremony.

"I advised Aunt Marcia to send him toyou, Penelope, and I am so glad she hasdone so. He seemed quite croupyyesterday, and at his age, of course,even a slight ailment may prove

serious."

"How old is that bird, Miss Vesta, if Imay ask " said Miss Penny.

"I know he's older'n I be, but I neverliked to inquire his age of Direxia; shemight think it was a reflection."

"I remember Jocko as long as Iremember anything," said Miss Vesta. "Iused to be afraid of him when I was achild, he swore so terribly. The storywas that he had belonged to a Frenchmarquis in the time of the Revolution;he certainly knew many violentexpressions in that language."

"I want to know if he did!" exclaimedMiss Penny, regarding the parrot withsomething like admiring awe.

"Why, I've never heard him use anystrong expressions, Miss Vesta. He doesspeak French sometimes, but it doesn'tsound like swearin', not a mite. Not tenminutes ago he was sayin' somethingabout Jehu; sounded real Scriptural."

"Oh, I have not heard him swear foryears," said Miss Vesta. "Aunt Marciacured him by covering the cagewhenever he said anything unsuitable.He never does it now, unless he seessome one he dislikes very much indeed,and of course he is not apt to do that.

Poor Jocko! good boy!"

"Arma virumque cano!" said Jocko."Vesta, Vesta, don't you pester! ri folliddy fo li, tiddy fo liddy fol li!"

"Ain't it mysterious " said Miss Penny,in an awestricken voice. "There! italways makes me think of the Towerof Babel. Did you want to take littleDarlin' back to-day, Miss Blyth I wasthinkin' I'd keep him a day or twolonger till his feathers looked realhandsome and full. I don't supposeyou'd want him converted red, wouldyou, Miss Vesta I'm told they're realhandsome, but I don't s'pose you'dwant to resk his health."

"I do not understand you, Penelope,"said Miss Vesta. "Red You surely wouldnot think of dyeing a living bird "

"No'm! oh, no, cert'in not, though Ihave heerd of them as did. But my birdbook says, feed a canary red pepper andhe'll turn red, and stay so till next timehe moults. I never should venture toresk a bird's health, not unless theparties wished it, but they do say it'sreal handsome."

"I should think it very wrong,Penelope," said Miss Vesta, seriously."Apart from the question of the dearlittle creature's health, it would shock

me very much. It would be like a dyeingone's own hair to give it a differentcolor from what the Lord intended. Iam sure you would not seriously thinkof such a thing."

"Oh, no'm!" said Miss Penny, guiltilyconscious of certain bottles on anupper shelf warranted to "restore grayhair to its youthful gloss and gleam."

"Well, then, I'll just feed him the BirdManna, say till Saturday, and by thattime he'll be his own beauty self, thehandsomest canary in Elmerton. Won'the, Darlin' "

"And I hope Silas Candy is prepared to

answer for it at the Judgment Seat!" saidMrs. Weight, in the doorway of theinner room. "Between him and Mis'Tree that Tommy promises to be fruitfor the gallus if ever it bore any. Everysheet on the line with 'Squashnose'wrote on it, and a picture of Isick thatanybody would know a mile off, and allin green paint. Oh, good morning,Vesta! Why, I thought for sure you mustbe sick; you weren't out to meetingyesterday."

"No, I was not," said Miss Vesta, mildly."I trust you are quite well, Malvina, andthat the deacon's rheumatism is givinghim less trouble lately "

"If Malviny Weight ain't a case!"chuckled Miss Penny, as the twovisitors left the shop together. "I doadmire to see Miss Vesta handle her, sopretty and polite, and yet with the tipsof her fingers, like she would a dustychair. There! what was I sayin' the otherday The Blyth girls is ladies, andMalviny Weight "

"Malviny Weight is a pokin', peerin',pryin' poll-parrot!" said MissPrudence's voice, sharply; "that's whatshe is!"

"Why, Prudence Pardon, how you talk!"said Miss Penny.

CHAPTER VIII.

A TEA-PARTY

"I wish we might have had WilliamJaquith as well," said Miss Vesta. "Itwould have pleased Mary, and everyone says he is doing so well."

"I am quite as well satisfied as it is, mydear Vesta," replied Miss Phoebe. "Letme see; one, two, three six cups andsaucers, if you please; the gold-spriggedones, and the plates to match. I think itis just as well not to have WilliamJaquith. I rejoice in his reform, and

trust it will be as permanent as it isapparently sincere; but with Mr. andMrs. Bliss no, Vesta, I feel that thecombination would hardly have beensuitable. Besides, he and Cousin Homercould not both leave the office at once,so early in the evening."

"That is true," said Miss Vesta. "Whichbowl shall we use for the wine jelly,Sister Phoebe I think the color showsbest in this plain one with the goldstars; or do you prefer the heavy flutedone "

The little lady was perched on thepantry-steps, and looked anxiouslydown at Miss Phoebe, who,

comfortably seated, on account of herrheumatism, was vainly endeavoring tofind a speck of dust on cup or dish.

"The star-bowl is best, I amconvinced," said Miss Phoebe, gravely;then she sighed.

"I sometimes fear that cut glass is asnare, Vesta. The pride of the eye! Itremble, when I look at all thesedishes."

"Surely, Sister Phoebe," said Miss Vesta,gently, "there can be no harm inadmiring beautiful things. The Lordgave us the sense of beauty, and I havealways counted it one of his choicest

mercies."

"Yes, Vesta; but Satan is full of wiles. Ihave not your disposition, and when Ilook at these shelves I am distinctlyconscious that there is no such glass inElmerton, perhaps none in the State. Inchina Aunt Marcia surpasses us,naturally, having all the Tree china, andmost of the Darracott; I have alwaysfelt that we have less Darracott chinathan is ours by right, but in glass westand alone. At times I feel that it maybe my duty to give away, or sell for thebenefit of the heathen, all save the fewpieces which we actually need."

"Surely, Sister Phoebe, you would not

do that!" said Miss Vesta, aghast."Think of all the associations! Fourgenerations of cut glass!"

"No, Vesta, I would not," said MissPhoebe, sadly; "and that shows thesnare plainly, and my feet in it. We areperishable clay! Suppose we put thecream in the gold-ribbed glass pitcherto-night, instead of the silver one; itwill go better with the gold-spriggedcups. After all, for whom should wedisplay our choicest possessions if notfor our pastor "

Little Mr. Bliss, the new minister, wasnot observant, and beyond a vaguesense of comfort and pleasure, knew

nothing of the exquisite features ofMiss Phoebe's tea-table. His wife did,however, and as she said afterward, feltbetter every time the delicate porcelainof her teacup touched her lips. Mrs.Bliss had the tastes of a duchess, andwas beginning life on a salary of fivehundred dollars a year and a house.Doctor Stedman and Mr. HomerHollopeter, too, appreciated the daintyservice of the Temple of Vesta, each inhis own way; and a pleasantcheerfulness shone in the faces of all asDiploma Crotty handed round herincomparable Sally Lunns, with amuttered assurance to each guest thatshe did not expect they were fit to eat.

"Phoebe," said Doctor Stedman, "Inever can feel more than ten years oldwhen I sit down at this table. I hopeyou have put me yes, this is my place.Here is the mark. You set this table,Vesta "

Miss Vesta blushed, the blush of awhite rose at sunset.

"Yes, James," she said, softly. "Iremembered where you like to sit."

"You see this dent " said DoctorStedman, addressing his neighbor, Mrs.Bliss; "I made that when I was ten yearsold. I used to be here a great deal,playing with Nathaniel, Miss Blyth's

brother, and we were always cautionednot to touch this table. It was always, asyou see it now, a shining mirror, andevery time a little warm paw was laid onit, it left a mark. This, however, was notexplained to us. We were simply toldthat if we touched that table,something would happen; and whenwe asked what, the reply was, 'You'llfind out what!' That was your AuntTimothea, girls, of course. Well,Nathaniel, being a peaceful and docilechild, accepted this dictum. Perhaps,knowing his aunt, he may haveunderstood it; but I did not, and I waspossessed to find out what wouldhappen if I touched the table. Once ortwice I secretly laid the tip of a finger

on it, when I was alone in the room;but nothing coming of it, I decidedthat a stronger touch was needed tobring the 'something' to pass. Thereused to be a little ivory mallet thatbelonged to the Indian gong ah, yes,there it is! I remember as if it wereyesterday the moment when, findingmyself alone in the room, I felt that myopportunity had come. I caught up themallet and gave a sounding bang on thesacred mahogany; then waited to seewhat would happen. Then MissTimothea came in, and I found out.She did it with a slipper, and I spentmost of the next week standing up."

"Our Aunt Timothea Darracott was the

guardian of our childhood," MissPhoebe explained to Mrs. Bliss. "Shewas an austere, but exemplary person.We derived great benefit from herministrations, which were mostdevoted. A well-behaved child had littleto fear from Aunt Timothea."

"You must not give our friends a falseimpression of James's childhood, SisterPhoebe," said Miss Vesta, looking upwith the expression of a valorous dove."He was far from being an unruly childas a general thing, though of course itwas a pity about the table."

"Thank you, Vesta!" said DoctorStedman. "But I am afraid I often got

Nat into mischief. Do you rememberyour Uncle Tree's spankstick, Phoebe "

"Shall we perhaps change the subject "said Miss Phoebe, with bland severity."It is hardly suited to the social board.Cousin Homer, may I give you a littlemore of the chicken, or will you havesome oysters "

"A it is immaterial, I am obliged to you,Cousin Phoebe," said Mr. HomerHollopeter, looking up with the air ofone suddenly awakened. "The innerman has been abundantly refreshed, Ithank you."

"The inner man was making a sonnet,

Phoebe, and you have cruellyinterrupted him," said Doctor Stedman,not without a gleam of friendly malice.

"Not a sonnet, James, this time," saidMr. Homer, coloring. "A few lines were,I confess, shaping themselves in mymind; it is very apt to be the case, whenmy surroundings are so gracious soharmonious I may say so inspiring, asat the present moment."

He waved his hands over the table,whose general effect was of crystal andgold, cream and honey, shining on thedark mirror of the bare table.

"I agree with you, I'm sure, Mr.

Hollopeter," said little Mrs. Bliss,heartily. "I couldn't write a line ofpoetry to save my life, but if I could, Iam sure it would be about this table,Miss Blyth. It is the prettiest table I eversaw, and the prettiest setting."

Miss Phoebe looked pleased.

"It is a Darracott table," she said. "Myaunt, Mrs. Tree, has the mate to it. Theywere saved when Darracott House wasburned, and naturally we value themhighly. I believe they formed part ofthe original furnishing brought overfrom England by James Lysander JamesDarracott in 1642. It is a matter ofrivalry between our good Diploma

Crotty and her aunt, Mrs. Tree'sdomestic, as to which table is in themore perfect condition. Mrs. Tree'stable has no dent in it "

"Ah, Phoebe, I shall carry that dent tomy grave with me!" said DoctorStedman, with a twinkle in his grayeyes. "You will never forgive it, I see."

"On the contrary, James, I forgave itlong ago," said Miss Phoebe, graciously."I was about to remark that though theother table has no dent, it has a scratch,made by Jocko in his youth, whichyears of labor have failed to efface. Tomy mind, the scratch is more noticeablethan the dent, though both are to be

regretted. Mr. Bliss, you are eatingnothing. I beg you will allow me to giveyou a little honey! It is made by ourown bees, and I think I canconscientiously recommend it. A littlecream, you will find, takes off the edgeof the sweet, and makes it morepalatable."

"Miss Blyth, you must not give us toomany good things," said the littleminister, shaking his head, but holdingout his plate none the less. "Thank you!thank you! most delicious, I am sure. Ionly hope it is not a snare of the flesh,Miss Phoebe."

He spoke merrily, in full enjoyment of

his first spoonful of honey not thecolorless, flavorless white clover variety,but the goldenrod honey, rich and fullin color and flavor. He smiled as hespoke, but Miss Phoebe looked grave.

"I trust not, indeed, Mr. Bliss," she said."It would ill become my sister and meto lay snares of any kind for your feet. Ialways feel, however, that milk, orcream, and honey, being as it werenatural gifts of a bounteousProvidence, and frequently mentionedin the Scriptures, may be partaken of inmoderation without fear of over-indulgence of sinful appetites. A littlemore Another pound cake, Mrs. BlissNo Then shall we return to the parlor "

"You spoke of your aunt, Mrs. Tree,Miss Blyth," said Mr. Bliss, when theywere seated in the pleasant, shiningparlor of the Temple of Vesta, the redcurtains drawn, the fire crackling itsusual cordial welcome.

"She is a a singularly interesting person.What vivacity! what readiness! what afund of information on a variety ofsubjects! She put me to the blush adozen times in a talk I had with herrecently."

"Have you been able to have anyserious conversation with my aunt, Mr.Bliss " asked Miss Phoebe, with a slight

indication of frost in her tone. "Ishould be truly rejoiced to hear thatsuch was the case."

"A well, perhaps not exactly serious,"owned the little minister, smiling andblushing. "In fact," here he caught hiswife's eye, and checked himself "in fact,a she is an extremely interestingperson!" he concluded, lamely.

"Now, John, why should you stop "cried Mrs. Bliss. "Mrs. Tree is the MissBlyths' own aunt, and they must knowher ever so much better than we do.She was just as funny as she could be,Miss Blyth. Deacon Weight had askedMr. Bliss to call and reason with her on

spiritual matters, 'wrestle' was what hesaid, but John told him he was nowrestler, and so he went and tried; buthe had hardly said a word had you,John when Mrs. Tree asked him whichhe liked best, Shakespeare or themusical glasses what do you supposeshe meant, Miss Vesta And when hesaid Shakespeare, of course, she begantalking about Hamlet, and Macready,and Mrs. Siddons, who gave her anorange when she was a little girl, and henever got in another word, did you,John And Deacon Weight was so putout when he heard about it! I'm gl "

"Marietta, my love!" remonstrated Mr.Bliss, hastily, "you forget yourself.

Deacon Weight is our senior deacon."

"I'm sorry, John! but Mrs. Tree is just askind as she can be," the little wife wenton, her eyes kindling as she spoke. "Oh!no, I won't tell, John; you needn't beafraid. Why, she said that if I told shewould set the parrot on me, and shemeant it. That bird frightens me out ofmy wits. But she is kind, and I nevershall forget all she has done for us."

"I understand that you are a poet, sir,"the minister said, turning to Mr. HomerHollopeter, and evidently desirous ofchanging the subject. "May I ask if thesonnet is your favorite form of verse "

Mr. Homer bridled and colored.

"A not at present, sir," he replied,modestly. "For some years I did feelthat my a genius, if I may call it so,moved most freely in the fetters of thesonnet; but of late I have thought itwell to seek to employ to a avail myselfof the various forms in which theMuse enshrines herself. It gives, if Imay so express myself, more breadth ofwing; more scope; more freedom;more" he waved his hands"circumambiency!"

His hand went with a fluttering motionto his pocket.

"I am sure, Cousin Homer," said MissVesta, "our friends would be glad tohear some of your poetry, if youhappen to have any with you."

"Very glad," echoed Mr. and Mrs. Bliss,heartily. Doctor Stedman, after athoughtful glance at the door, andanother at the clock, but it was onlyseven, settled himself resignedly in hischair and said, "Fire away, Homer!"quite kindly.

Mr. Homer drew forth a folded paper,and gazed on the company with apensive smile.

"I confess," he said, "the thought had

occurred to me that, if so desired, Imight read these few lines to the choicecircle before whom or more properlywhich I find myself this evening. Anepisode has recently occurred in our amidst, Mrs. Bliss, which is of deepinterest to us Elmertonians. The returnof a youth, always cherished, but shall Isay, Cousin Phoebe, a temporary estrayfrom the a star-y-pointing path "

"It is a graceful way of putting it,Cousin Homer," said Miss Phoebe,with some austerity. "I trust it may bejustified. Proceed, if you please. We areall attention."

Mr. Homer unfolded his paper, and

opened his lips to read; but someuneasiness seemed to strike him. Hemoved in his seat, as if missingsomething, and glanced round theroom. His eye fell and rested on MissPhoebe, sitting erect and rigid in therocking-chair, his rocking-chair! MissPhoebe would not have rocked aquarter of an inch for a fortune; everyline of her figure protested against itsbeing supposed possible that she couldrock in company; but there she sat, andher seat was firm as the enduring hills.

Mr. Homer sighed; pushed his chairback a little, only to find its legs whollyuncompromising and read as follows:

"LINES ON THE RETURN OF AYOUTHFUL AND VALUEDFRIEND.

"Our beloved William Jaquith Hasresolved henceforth to break withDevious ways; And returning to hismother Vows he will have ne'er anotherAll his days.

"Husk of swine did not him nourish;Plant of Virtue could not flourish Farfrom home; So his heart with longingburned, And his feet with speedreturned To its dome.

"Welcome, William, to our village!Peaceful dwell, devoid of pillage,

Cherished son! On her sightless stepsattendant, Wear a crown of lightresplendent, Duty done!"

There was a soft murmur ofappreciation from Miss Vesta and Mrs.Bliss, followed by silence. Mr. Homerglanced anxiously at Miss Phoebe.

"I should be glad of your opinion as tothe third line, Cousin Phoebe," he said."I had it 'Satan's ways,' in my firstdraught, but the expression appearedstrong, especially for this choice circle,so I substituted 'devious' as being moregentle, more mild, more a" he wavedhis hands "more devoid of elementslikely to produce discord in the mind."

"Quite so, Cousin Homer!" repliedMiss Phoebe, with a stately bend of herhead. "I congratulate you upon thealteration. Satan has no place in anElmerton parlor, especially whenhonored by the presence of its pastor."

CHAPTER IX.

A GARDEN PARTY

It was a golden morning in mid-October; one of those mornings whenSummer seems to turn in her footsteps,and come back to search for something

she had left behind. Wherever onelooked was gold: gold of maple andelm leaves, gold of late-lingeringflowers, gold of close-shorn fields.Over and in and through it all, airy goldof quivering, dancing sunbeams.

No spot in all Elmerton was brighterthan Mrs. Tree's garden, which took themorning sun full in the face. Here wereplenty of flowers still, marigolds,coreopsis, and chrysanthemums, alldrinking in the sun-gold and giving itout again, till the whole place quiveredwith light and warmth.

Mrs. Tree, clad in an antique fur-trimmed pelisse, with an amazinggarden hat surmounting her cap, sat ina hooded wicker chair on the porchtalking to William Jaquith, who wastying up roses and covering them withstraw.

"Yes; such things mostly go crisscross,"she was saying. "Careful with that BrideBlush, Willy; that young scamp of aGeoffrey Strong gave it to me, and Isuppose I shall have to tend it the restof my days. Humph! pity you didn'tknow him; he might have donesomething for that cough. He got thegirl he wanted, but more often theydon't. Look at James Stedman! and

there's Homer Hollopeter has been inlove with Mary Ashton ever since hewas in petticoats."

"With Mary do you mean my mother "said Jaquith, looking up.

"She wasn't your mother when hebegan!" said the old lady, tartly. "Hecouldn't foresee that she was going tobe, could he If he had he might haveasked your permission. She preferredGeorge Jaquith, naturally. Womenmostly prefer a handsome scamp. Notthat Homer ever looked like anythingbut a sheep. Then there was Lily Bent "

She broke off suddenly. "You're tying

that all crooked, Will Jaquith. I'll comeand do it myself if you can't do betterthan that."

"I'll have it right in a moment, Mrs.Tree. You were saying something aboutLily Bent "

"There are half a dozen lilies bentalmost double!" Mrs. Tree declared,peevishly. "Careless! I paid five dollarsfor that Golden Lily, young man, andyou handle it as if it were a yellowturnip."

"Mrs. Tree!"

"Well, what is it It's time for me to have

my nap, I expect."

"Mrs. Tree," the young man's voice wasearnest and pleading, "I brought you aletter from Lily Bent this morning. Ihave been waiting I want to hearsomething about her. I know she hasbeen an angel of tenderness andgoodness to my mother ever since whydoes she stay away so long "

"Because she's having a good time, Isuppose," said Mrs. Tree, dryly. "She'sbeen tied close enough these last threeyears, what with her grandmother andone thing and another. The oldwoman's dead now, and small loss.Everybody's dead, I believe, except me

and a parcel of silly children. I forgetwhat you said became of that of yourwife after she left you."

"She died," said Jaquith, abstractedly."Didn't I tell you They went South, andshe took yellow fever. It was only amonth after "

"No, you did not!" cried Mrs. Tree,sitting bolt upright. "You never told mea word, Willy Jaquith. What Providencewas thinking of when it made thisgeneration, passes me to conceive. If Icouldn't make a better one out of fish-glue and calico, I'd give up. Bah! I've nopatience with you."

She struck her stick sharply on thefloor, and her little hands trembled.

"I am sorry we don't amount to more,"said Jaquith, smiling, "But I think myglue is hardening, Mrs. Tree. Tell mewhere Lily Bent is, that's a dear goodsoul, and why she stays away so long."

"I can't!" cried the old woman, and shewrung her hands. "I cannot, Willy."

"You cannot, and my mother will not,"repeated William Jaquith, slowly. "Andthere is no one else I can or will ask.Why can you not tell me, Mrs. Tree Ithink you have no right to refuse me somuch information."

"Because I promised not to tell you!"cried Mrs. Tree. "There! don't speak tome, or I shall go into a caniption! If Ihad known, I never would havepromised. I never made a promise yetthat I wasn't sorry for. Dear me, Sirs! Iwonder if ever anybody was sopestered as I am.

"There! there's James Stedman. Call himover here! and don't you speak a wordto me, Willy Jaquith, but finish thoseplants, if you are ever going to."

Obeying Jaquith's hail, DoctorStedman, who had been for passingwith a bow and a wave of the hand,

turned and came up the garden walk.

"Good morning, James Stedman," saidMrs. Tree. "You haven't been near mefor a month. I might be dead andburied twenty times over for all youknow or care about me. A pretty kindof doctor you are!"

"What do you want of me, Mrs. Tree "asked Doctor Stedman, laughing, andshaking the little brown hand held outto him. "I'll come once a week, if youdon't take care, and then what wouldyou say What do you want of me, mylady "

"I don't want my bones crushed, just

for the sake of giving you the job ofmending them," said the old lady. "I'das lief shake paws with a grizzly bear.You are getting to look rather like one,my poor James. I've always told youthat if you would only shave, youmight have a better chance but nevermind about that now. You werewanting to know where Lily Bent was."

"Was I " said Doctor Stedman,wondering. "Lily Bent! why, I haven't "

"Yes, you have," said Mrs. Tree, sharply."Or if you haven't, you ought to beashamed of yourself. She is stayingwith George Greenwell's folks, over atParsonsbridge; his wife was her father's

sister, a wall-eyed woman with crockeryteeth. George Greenwell,Parsonsbridge, do you hear There! nowI must go and take my nap, and plaguetake everybody, I say. Good morning toyou!"

Rising from her seat with amazingcelerity, she whisked into the housebefore Doctor Stedman's astonishedeyes, and closed the door smartly afterher.

With a low whistle, Doctor Stedmanturned to William Jaquith.

"Our old friend seems agitated," hesaid. "What has happened to distress

her "

Jaquith made no reply. He was tying upa rosebush with shaking fingers, and hisusually pale face was flushed, perhapswith exertion.

Doctor Stedman's bushy eyebrowscame together.

"Hum!" he said, half aloud. "Lily Bent!why, ha! yes. How is your mother, Will Ihave not seen her for some time."

"She's very well, thank you, sir!" saidWill Jaquith, hurrying on his coat, andgathering up his gardening tools. "Ifyou will excuse me, Doctor Stedman, I

must get back to the office; Mr. Homerwill be looking for me; he gave me thishour off, to see to Mrs. Tree's roses.Good day."

"Now, what is going on here " saidJames Stedman to himself, as, stillstanding on the porch, he watched theyoung man going off down the streetwith long strides. "The air is full ofmystery and prickles. And why is LilyBent pretty creature! Why, I haven't seenher since I came back, haven't laid eyeson her! Why is she brought into it H'm!let me see! Wasn't there a boy and girlattachment between her and WillyJaquith To be sure there was! I can seethem now going to school together, he

carrying her satchel. Then she had along bout of slow fever, I remember.Pottle attended her, and it's a wonderh'm! But wasn't that about the timewhen that little witch, Ada Vere, camehere, and turned both the boys' heads,and carried off poor Willy, and halfbroke Arthur's heart H'm! Well, I don'tknow what I can do about it. Hum!pretty it all looks here! If there isn't thestrawberry bush, grown out of allknowledge! We were big children, Vestaand I, before we gave up hoping that itwould bear strawberries. How we usedto play here!"

His eyes wandered about the pleasantplace, resting with friendly recognition

on every knotty shrub and ancient vine.

"The snowball is grown a great tree.How long is it since I have really beenin this garden Passing through in ahurry, one doesn't see things. That mustbe the rose-flowered hawthorn. Mydear little Vesta! I can see her now withthe wreath I made for her one day. Shewas a little pink rose then under therosy wreath; now she is a white one,but more a rose than ever. Whom havewe here "

A wagon had drawn up by the gardengate with two sleepy white horses. Abrown, white-bearded face was turnedtoward the doctor.

"Hello, doc'," said a cheery voice. "Iwant to know if that's you!"

"Nobody else, Mr. Butters! What is thegood word with you Are you comingin, or shall I "

But Mr. Ithuriel Butters was alreadyclambering down from his seat, andnow came up the garden walk carryinga parcel in his hand. An old man ofpatriarchal height and build, with hairand beard to match. Dress him inflowing robes or in armor of brass andyou would have had Abraham or achief of the Maccabees, "'cordin' to," ashe would have said. As it was, he was

Old Man Butters of the Butterses LaneRo'd, Shellback.

He gave Doctor Stedman a mighty grip,and surveyed him with friendly eyes.

"Wal, you've been in furrin parts senceI see ye. I expected you'd come backsome kind of outlandishman, but Idon't see but you look as nat'ral as nailsin a door. Ben all over, hey Seen thehull consarn "

"Pretty near, Mr. Butters; I saw all Icould hold, anyhow."

"See anything to beat the State ofMaine "

"I think not. No, certainly not."

"Take fall weather in the State ofMaine," said Mr. Butters, slowly, hiseyes roving about the sunlit garden;"take it when it's good when it is goodit's good, sometimes! Not but what I'vethought myself I should like to seefurrin parts before I go. Don't want toappear ignorant where I'm goin', youunderstand. Mis' Tree to home, Ipresume likely "

"Yes, she is at home, Mr. Butters, but Ihave an idea she is lying down just now.Perhaps in half an hour "

"Nothing of the sort!" said a voice likethe click of castanets; and here wasMrs. Tree again, pelisse, hat, stick, andall. Doctor Stedman stared.

"How do you do, Ithuriel " said Mrs.Tree, in a friendly tone, "I am glad tosee you. Sit down on the bench! Youmay sit down too, James, if you like.What brings you in to-day, Ithuriel "

"I brought some apples in for Blyths'sfolks," said Mr. Butters. "And I broughtyou a present, Mis' Tree."

He untied his parcel, and produced apair of large snowy wings.

"I ben killin' some gooses lately," heexplained. "The woman allers meant tosend you in a pair o' wings for dusters,but she never got round to it, so Ithought I'd fetch 'em in now. They'rekind o' handy round a fireplace."

The wings were graciously acceptedand praised.

"I was sorry to hear of your wife'sdeath, Ithuriel," said Mrs. Tree. "I amtold she was a most excellent woman."

"Yes'm, she was!" said Mr. Butters,soberly. "She was a good woman and asmart one. Pleasant to live with, too,which they ain't all. Yes, I met with a

loss surely in Loviny."

"Was it sudden "

"P'ralsis! She only lived two days aftershe was called, and I was glad, for she'dlost her speech, and no woman canstand that. She knowed things, youunderstand, she knowed things, but shecouldn't free her mind. 'Loviny,' I says,'if you know me,' I says, 'jam my hand!'She jammed it, but she never spoke.Yes'm, 'twas a visitation. I dono as Ishall git me another now."

"Well, I should hope not, IthurielButters!" said Mrs. Tree, with someasperity. "Why, you are nearly as old as I

am, you ridiculous creature, and youhave had three wives already. Aren't youashamed of yourself "

"Wal, I dono as I be, Mis' Tree," saidMr. Butters, sturdily. "Age goes byfeelin's, 'pears to me, more'n by FamilyBibles. Take the Bible, and you'd thinkmebbe I warn't so young as some; buttake the way I feel why, I'm as spry asany man of sixty I know, and spryerthan most of 'em. I like the merriedstate, and it suits me. Men-folks is likepickles, some; women-folks is the brinethey're pickled in; they don't keep sweetwithout 'em. Besides, it's terriblelon'some on a farm, now I tell ye, withnone but hired help, and them so poor

you can't tell 'em from the broomstickhardly, except for their eatin'."

"Where is your stepdaughter I thoughtshe lived with you."

"Alviry She's merried!" Mr. Buttersthrew his head back with a huge laugh."Ain't you heerd about Alviry's gittin'merried, Mis' Tree Wal, wal!"

He settled back in his seat, and the lightof the story-teller came into his eyes.

"I expect I'll have to tell you about that.'Bout six weeks ago two months maybeit was a man come to the door backdoor and knocked. Alviry peeked

through the kitchen winder, she'sterrible skeert of tramps, and she see'twas a decent-appearin' man, so shewent to the door.

"'Miss Alviry Wilcox to home ' says he.

"'You see her before ye!' says Alviry,speakin' kind o' short.

"'I want to know!' says he. 'I was lookin'for a housekeeper, and you was named,'he says, 'so I thought I'd come out andsee ye.'

"She questioned him, Alviry's a masterhand at questionin', and he said he wasa farmer livin' down East

Parsonsbridge way; a hundred acres,and a wood-lot, and six cows, and Idono what all. Wal, Alviry's ben kind o'uneasy, and lookin' for a change, forquite a spell back. I suspicioned she'dbe movin' on, fust chance she got. Is'pose she thought mebbeParsonsbridge butter would churneasier than Shellback; I dono. Anyhow,she said mebbe she'd try it for a spell,and he might expect her next week.Wal, sir, ma'am, I ask your pardon, he'dgot his answer, and yet he didn't seemready to go. He kind o' shuffled hisfeet, Alviry said, and stood round, andpassed remarks on the weather andsich; and she was jest goin' to say shemust git back to her ironin', when he

hums and haws, and says he: 'I donobut 'twould be full as easy if we was togit merried. I'm a single man, and agood character. If you've no objections,we might fix it up that way,' he says.

"Wal! Alviry was took aback some atthat, and she said she'd have toconsider of it, and ask my advice andall. 'Why, land sake!' she says, 'I don'tknow what your name is,' she says, 'letalone marryin' of ye.'

"So he told her his name, Job Weezer itwas; I know his folks; he has got awood-lot, I guess he's all right, and shesaid if he'd come back next day she'dgive him his answer. Wal, sir, ma'am, I

should say, when I come in frommilkin' she told me. I laughed till Isurely thought I'd shake to pieces; andAlviry sittin' there, as sober as a jedge,not able to see what in time I waslaughin' at.

"Wal, all about it was, he come backnext day, and she said yes; and they wasmerried in a week's time by ElderTyson, and off they went. I believethey're doin' well, and both partiessatisfied; but if it ain't the beat ofanything ever I see!"

"It is quite scandalous, if that is whatyou mean!" said Mrs. Tree. "I neverheard of such heathen doings."

"That ain't the p'int!" said Mr. Butters,chuckling. "They ain't no springgoslin's, neither one on 'em; old enoughto know their own minds. What gits meis, what he see in Alviry!"

CHAPTER X.

MR. BUTTERS DISCOURSES

After leaving Mrs. Tree's house, Mr.Ithuriel Butters drove slowly along thevillage street toward the post-office. Hejerked the reins loosely once or twice,but for the most part let the horses take

their own way; he seemed absorbed inthought, and now and then he shookhis head and muttered to himself, hisbright blue eyes twinkling, thehumorous lines of his strong old facedeepening into smiling furrows. Passingthe Temple of Vesta, he looked upsharply at the windows, seemed halfinclined to check his horses; but no onewas to be seen, and he let them taketheir sleepy way onward.

"I d'no as 'twould be best," he said tohimself. "Diplomy's a fine woman, Iwouldn't ask to see a finer; but there, Id'no how 'tis. When you've had pie youdon't hanker after puddin', even whenit's good puddin'; and Loviny was pie;

yes, sir! she was, no mistake; mince, andno temperance mince neither. Guess I'llget along someways the rest of thetime. Seems as if some of Alviry's talkmust have got lodged in the cracks orsomewhere; there's ben enough of itthese three months. Mebbe that'll lastme through. Git ap, you!"

Arrived at the post-office, Mr. Buttersquitted his perch once more, and with aword to the old horses (which they didnot hear, being already asleep) made hisway into the outer room. Seth Weaver,who was leaning on the ledge of thedelivery window, turned and greetedthe old man cordially.

"Well, Uncle Ithe, how goes it "

"H'are ye, Seth " replied Mr. Butters,"How's the folks Mornin', Homer!anything for out our way How'sMother gettin' on, Seth "

"She's slim," replied his nephew, "realslim, Mother is. She's ben doctorin'right along, too, but it don't seem tohelp her any. I'm goin' to get her somenew stuff this mornin' that she heardof somewhere."

"Help her No, nor it ain't goin' to helpher," said Mr. Butters, with some heat;"it's goin' to hender her. Parcel o' fools!She's taken enough physic now to

pison a four-year-old gander. Don't youget her no more!"

"Wal," said Weaver, easily, "I dono as itreally henders her any, Uncle Ithe; andit takes up her mind, gives hersomething to think about. Shedoctored Father so long, you know, andshe's used to messin' with roots andherbs; and now her sight's failin', I tellye, come medicine time, she brightensup and goes for it same as if it was newcider. I don't know as I feel like denyin'her a portion o' physic, seein' sheappears to crave it. She thought thissounded like good searchin' medicine,too. Them as told her about it said youfeel it all through you."

"I should think you would!" retortedMr. Butters. "So you would a quart ofturpentine if you took and swalleredit."

"Wal, I don't know what else to do,that's the fact!" Weaver admitted."Mother's slim, I tell ye. I do gredgeseein' her grouchin' round, smart awoman as she's ben."

"You make me think of Sile Stover, outour way," said Mr. Butters. "He sets upto be a hoss doctor, ye know; hossesand stock gen'lly. Last week he calledme in to see a hog that was failin' up.Said he'd done all he could do, and the

critter didn't seem to be gettin' nobetter, and what did I advise

"'What have ye done ' says I.

"'Wal,' says he, 'I've cut his tail, anddrawed two of his teeth, and I donowhat else to do,' he says. Hoss doctor! Aclo'es-hoss is the only kind he knowsmuch about, I calc'late."

"Wasn't he the man that tried to curePeckham's cow of the horn ail, bored ahole in her horn and put in salt andpepper, or was it oil and vinegar "

Mr. Butters nodded. "Same man! Nowthat kind of a man will always find

folks enough to listen to him and takeup his dum notions. I tell ye what it is!You can have drought, and you canhave caterpillars, and you can havefrost. You can lose your hay crop, andyour apple crop, and your potato crop;but there's one crop there can't nothin'touch, and that's the fool crop. You cancount on that, sartin as sin. I tell ye,Seth, don't you fill your mother up withnone of that pison stuff. She's a goodwoman, if she did marry a Weaver."

Seth's eyes twinkled. "Well, Uncle Ithe,seein' you take it so hard," he said, "Idon't mind tellin' you that I'd kind o'thought the matter out for myself; andit 'peared to me that a half a pint o'

molasses stirred up with a gre'tspoonful o' mustard and a small one ofred pepper would look about the same,and taste jest as bad, and wouldn't doher a mite of harm. I ain't all Weavernow, be I "

Uncle and nephew exchanged asympathetic chuckle. At this momentMr. Homer's meek head appeared at thewindow.

"There are no letters for you to-day, Mr.Butters," he said, deprecatingly; "buthere is one for Miss Leora Pitcher; sheis in your neighborhood, I believe "

"Wal, depends upon what you call

neighborhood," Mr. Butters replied."It's two miles by the medders, and fourby the ro'd."

"Oh!" said Mr. Homer, still moredeprecatingly; "I was not aware that thedistance was so considerable, Mr.Butters. I conceived that Miss Pitcher'sestate and yours were adjacent; acontiguous; a in point of fact, neartogether."

"Wal, they ain't," said Mr. Butters; "butif it's anyways important, mebbe Icould fetch a compass round that way."

"I should be truly grateful if you coulddo so, Mr. Butters!" said Mr. Homer,

eagerly. "I I feel as if this letter might beof importance, I confess. Miss Pitcherhas sent in several times by variousneighbors, and I have felt an underlyinganxiety in her inquiries. I was rejoicedthis morning when the expected lettercame. It is a in a masculine hand, youwill perceive, Mr. Butters, and thepostmark is that of the town to whichMiss Pitcher's own letters were sent. Ido not wish to seem indelicatelyintrusive, but I confess it has occurredto me that this might be a case ofpossible misunderstanding; of aalienation; of a wounding of thetendrils of the heart, gentlemen. To seea young person, especially a young lady,suffer the pangs of hope deferred "

Ithuriel Butters looked at him.

"Have you ever seen Leory Pitcher,Homer " he asked, abruptly.

"No, sir, I have not had that pleasure.But from the character of herhandwriting (she has the praiseworthyhabit of putting her own name on theenvelope), I have inferred her youth,and a certain timidity of "

"Wal, she's sixty-five, if she's a day, andshe's got a hare-lip and a cock-eye. She'suglier than sin, and snugger than eel-skin; one o' them kind that when youprick 'em they bleed sour milk; and

what she wants is for her brother-in-law to send her his wife's clo'es, 'causehe's goin' to marry again. AllShellback's ben talkin' about it thesethree months."

Mr. Homer colored painfully.

"Is it so " he said, dejectedly. "I regretthat that my misconception was socomplete. I ask your pardon, Mr.Butters."

"Nothin' at all, nothin' at all," said Mr.Butters, briskly, seeing that he had givenpain. "You mustn't think I want to sayanything against a neighbor, Homer,but there's no paintin' Leory Pitcher

pooty, 'cause she ain't.

"I ben visitin' with Mis' Tree thismornin'," he added, benevolently;"she's aunt to you, I believe, ain't she "

"Cousin, Mr. Butters," said Mr. Homer,still depressed. "Mrs. Tree and myfather were first cousins. A mostinteresting character, my cousin Marcia,Mr. Butters."

"Wal, she is so," responded Mr. Butters,heartily. "She certinly is; ben so all herlife. Why, sir, I knew Mis' Tree when shewas a gal."

"Sho!" said Seth Weaver, incredulously.

"Indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Homer, withinterest.

"Yes, sir, I knew her well. She was olderthan me, some. When I was a boy, saytwelve year old, Miss Marshy Darracottwas a young lady. The pick of thecountry she was, now I tell ye! Somethought Miss Timothy was handsomer,she was tall, and a fine figger; her andMis' Blyth favored each other, but littleMiss Marshy was the one for mymoney. She used to make me think of ahummin'-bird; quick as a flash, here,and there, gone in a minute, and backagain before you could wink. She had alittle black mare she used to ride,

Firefly, she called her. Eigh, sirs, to seethem two kitin' round the country wasa sight, now I tell ye. I recall one day Iwas out in the medder behindDarracott House you know that gullythat runs the len'th of the ten-acre lotWell, there used to be a bridge over thatgully, just a footbridge it was, little lightthing, push it over with your hand,seemed as if you could. Wal, sir, I waspokin' about the way boys do, huntin'for box-plums, or woodchucks, ornothin' at all, when all of a suddin Iheard hoofs and voices, and I slunk inbehind a tree, bein' diffident, and scairtof bein' so near the big house.

"Next minute they come out into the

ro'd, two on 'em, Miss MarshyDarracott and George Tennaker, SquireTennaker's son, over to Bascom. Hewas a big, red-faced feller, none toowell thought of, for all his folks hadben in the country as long as theDarracotts, or the Butterses either, forthat matter, and he'd ben hangin' roundMiss Marshy quite a spell, though shewouldn't have nothin' to say to him. Iwas in her Sabbath-school class, andthought the hull world of her, this oneand a piece of the next; and I gredgedGeorge Tennaker so much as lookin' ather. Wal, they come along, and he wassayin' something, and she answered himshort and sharp; I can see her now, hereyes like black di'monds, and the red

comin' and goin' in her cheeks: she wasa pictur if ever I seed one. Pooty soonhe reached out and co't holt of herbridle. Gre't Isrel, sir! she broughtdown her whip like a stroke oflightning on his fingers, and hedropped the rein as if it burnt him.Then she whisked round, and acrossthat bridge quicker'n any swaller everyou see. It shook like a poplar-tree, butit hadn't no time to fall if it wanted to;she was acrost, and away out of sightbefore you could say 'Simon Peter;' andhe set there in the ro'd cussin', andswearin', and suckin' his fingers. I tellye, I didn't need no dinner that day; Iwas full up, and good victuals, too."

"This is extremely interesting, Mr.Butters," said Mr. Homer. "You a youpresent my venerable relative in awholly new light. She is so a soextremely venerable, if I may so expressmyself, that I confess I have neverbefore had an accurate conception ofher youth."

"You thought old folks was born old,"said Mr. Butters, with a chuckle. "Wal,they warn't. They was jest as young asyoung folks, and oftentimes younger.Miss Marshy warn't no more than a slipof a girl when she merried. Come alongyoung Cap'n Tree, jest got his first ship,and the world in his pants pocket, andsaid 'Snip!' and she warn't backward

with her 'Snap!' I tell ye. Gorry! theywere a handsome pair. See 'em comealong the street, you knowed how 'twasmeant man and woman should look.For all she was small, Mis' Tree wouldha' spread out over a dozen otherwomen, the sperit she had in her; andhe was tall enough for both, the cap'nwould say. And proud of each other!He'd have laid down gold bricks forher to walk on if he'd had his way. Yes,sir, 'twas a sight to see 'em.

"There ain't no such young folksnowadays; not but what that youngStrong fellow was well enough; he got anice gal, too. Wal, sir, this won't threshthe oats. I must be gettin' along. Think

mebbe there ain't no sech hurry aboutthat letter for Leory Pitcher, do ye,Homer I'll kerry it if you say so."

"I thank you, Mr. Butters," said Mr.Homer, sadly, "it is immaterial, I amobliged to you."

CHAPTER XI.

MISS PHOEBE PASSES ON

Miss Phoebe Blyth's death came like abolt from a clear sky. The rheumatism,which had for so many years been hercompanion, struck suddenly at her

heart. A few hours of anguish, and thestout heart had ceased to beat, the sternyet kindly spirit was gone on its way.

Great was the grief in the village. If notbeloved as Miss Vesta was, MissPhoebe was venerated by all, as awoman of austere and exalted piety andof sterling goodness. All Elmertonwent to her funeral, on a clear Octoberday not unlike Miss Phoebe herself,bright, yet touched with wholesomefrost. All Elmerton went about the restof the day with hushed voice and soberbrow, looking up at the closed shuttersof the Temple of Vesta, and wonderinghow it fared with the gentle priestess,now left alone. The shutters were white

and fluted, and being closed,heightened the effect of clean linenwhich the house always presented linenstarched to the point of perfection,with a dignified frill, but no frivolity oflace or trimming.

"I do declare," said Miss Penny Pardon,telling her sister about it all, "the houselooked so like Miss Blyth herself, Iexpected to hear it say, 'Pray step in andbe seated!' just like she used to. Elegantmanners Miss Blyth had; and shewalked elegant, too, in spite of herrheumatiz. When I see her go past upthe street, I always said, 'There goes alady, let the next be who she will!'"

"Yes," said Miss Prudence, with a sigh;"if Phoebe Blyth had but dressed asshe might, there's no one in Elmertoncould have stood beside her for style.I've told her so, time and again, but shenever would hear a word. She waspeculiar."

"There! I expect we're all peculiar, sister,one way or another," said Miss Penny,soothingly. This matter of the Blythgirls' dressing was Miss Prudence'sgreat grievance, and just now it washeightened by circumstances.

"Miss Blyth's mind was above clothes, Iexpect, Prudence," Miss Pennycontinued. "'Twa'n't that she hadn't

every confidence in you, for I've heardher speak real handsome of yourmethod."

"A person's mind has no call to beabove clothes," said Miss Prudence,with some asperity. "They are all thatstands between us and savages, somethink. But I've no wish to castreflections this day. Miss Blyth was afine woman, and she is a great loss tothis village. But I do say she waspeculiar, and I'll stand to that with mydying breath; and I do think Vestashows a want of "

She stopped abruptly. The shop-bellrang, and Mrs. Weight entered, crimson

and panting. She hurried across theshop, and entered the sewing-roombefore Miss Penny could go to meether.

"Well," she said, "here I am! How doyou do, Prudence You look re'l poorly.Girls, I've come straight to you. I'm notone to pass by on the other side, neverwas. I like to sift a thing to the bottom,and get the rights of it. I'm not one tospread abroad, but when I do speak, Idesire to speak the truth, and for thattruth I have come to you."

She paused, and fixed a solemn gaze onthe two sisters.

"You'll get it!" said Miss Prudence, asteely glitter coming into her gray eyes."We ain't in the habit of tellin' lies here,as I know of. What do you want "

"I want to know if it's true that VestaBlyth isn't going to wear mourning forher sole and only sister. I want to knowif it's so! You could have knocked medown with a broom-straw when I seeher settin' there in her gray silk dress,for all the world as if we'd come tosewin'-circle instead of a funeral. Idon't know when I have had such aturn; I was palpitating all through theprayer. Now I want you to tell me justhow 'tis, girls, for, of course, you knowunless she sent over to Cyrus for her

things, and they been delayed. Ishouldn't hardly have thought she'dhave done that, though some say thatnew dressmaker over there has all thestyles straight from New York. Whatsay "

"I don't know as I've said anything yet,"said Miss Prudence, with ominouscalm. "I don't know as I've had achance. But it's true that Miss VestaBlyth don't intend to put onmourning."

"Well, I "

For once, words seemed to fail Mrs.Weight, and she gaped upon her

hearers open-mouthed; but speechreturned quickly.

"Girls, I would not have believed it, notunless I had seen it with these eyes.Even so, I supposed most likely therehad been some delay. I asked Mis' Treeas we were comin' out she spokepleasant to me for once in her life, andI knew she must be thinkin' of herown end, and I wanted to saysomething, so I says, 'Vesta ain't got hermournin' yet, has she, Mis' Tree '

"She looked at me jest her own way, hereyes kind o' sharpenin' up, and says,'Neither has the Emperor of Morocco!Isn't it a calamity '

"I dono what she meant, unless 'twas togive me an idee what high connectionsthey had, though it ain't likely there'sanything of that sort; I never heerd ofany furrin blood in either family: but Isee 'twas no use tryin' to get anythingout of her, so I come straight to you.And here you tell me what does itmean, Prudence Pardon Are we in aChristian country, I want to know, orare we not "

Miss Prudence knit her brows behindher spectacles. "I don't know,sometimes, whether we are in aChristian country or whether we ain't,"she said, grimly. "Miss Phoebe Blyth

didn't approve of mourning, onreligious grounds; and Miss Vesta feelsit right to carry out her sister's views.That's all there is to it, I expect; I expectit's their business, too, and not otherfolks'."

"Miss Phoebe thought mournin' wa'n'ta Christian custom," said Miss Penny."I've heard her say so; and that 'twaspayin' too much respect to the perishin'flesh. We don't feel that way, Sister an'me, but them was her views, and shewas a consistent, practical Christian, ifever I see one. I don't think it strange,for my part, that Miss Vesta shouldwish to do as was desired, though verylikely her own feelin's may have ben

different. She would be a perfect pictur'in a bunnet and veil, though I dono asshe could look any prettier than whatshe did to-day."

"If I could have the dressin' of VestaBlyth as she should be dressed," saidMiss Prudence, solemnly, "there's noone in this village I'll go further, andsay county that could touch her. Shehasn't the style of Phoebe, but there!there's like a light round her when shemoves; I don't know how else to put it.It's like stickin' the scissors into meevery time I cut them low shoulders forher. I always did despise a lowshoulder, long before I ever thought Ishould be cuttin' of 'em."

"Well, girls," said Mrs. Weight, "you maymake the best of it, and it's handsomein you, I will say, Prudence, for ofcourse you naturally looked to have thecuttin', and I suppose all dressmakersget something extry for mournin', seein'it's a necessity, or is thought so by mostChristian people. But I am the wife ofthe senior deacon of the parishwherein she sits, and I feel a call tospeak to Vesta Blyth before I sleep thisnight. Our pastor's wife is young, andthough I am aware she means well, shehasn't the stren'th nor yet the faculty todeal with folks as is older than herselfon spiritual matters; so I feel it laidupon me "

"I thought it was clothes you wastalkin' about," said Miss Prudence, andshe closed her scissors with a snap. "Ihope you'll excuse me, Mis' Weight, butyou speakin' to Vesta Blyth aboutspiritual matters seems to me jest aleetle mite like a hen teachin' a swallowto fly."

* * * * *

While this talk was going on, little MissVesta, in her gray gown and whitekerchief, was moving softly about thelower rooms of the Temple of Vesta,setting the chairs in their accustomedplaces, passing a silk cloth across their

backs in case of finger-marks, lookinganxiously for specks of dust on theshining tables and whatnots, puttingfresh flowers in the vases. Some well-meaning but uncomprehending friendshad sent so-called "funeral flowers,"purple and white; to these Miss Vestaadded every glory of yellow, every blazeof lingering scarlet, that the gardenafforded. She threw open the shutters,and let the afternoon sun stream intothe darkened rooms.

Diploma Crotty, standing in a corner,her hands folded in her apron, her eyesswollen with weeping, watched withgrowing anxiety the slight figure thatseemed to waver as it moved from very

fatigue.

"That strong light'll hurt your eyes,Miss Blyth," she said, presently. "Yougo and lay down, and I'll bring you acup of tea."

"No, I thank you, Diploma," said MissVesta, quietly; and she added, with asoft hurry in her voice, "And if youwould please not to call me Miss Blyth,my good Diploma, I should be gratefulto you. Say 'Miss Vesta,' as usual, if youplease. I desire let us keep things as theyhave been as they have been. Mybeloved sister has gone away" the softeven voice quivered, but did not break"gone away, but not far. I am sure I

need not ask you, Diploma, to help mein keeping everything as my dear sisterwould like best to have it. You know sowell about almost every particular; butshe preferred to have the tidies straight,not cornerwise. You will not feel hurt, Iam sure, if I alter them. They arebeautifully done up, Diploma; it wouldbe a real pleasure to my dear sister tosee them."

"I knew they were on wrong," said thehandmaid, proceeding to aid inchanging the position of the delicatecrocheted squares. "Mis' Bliss wanted todo something to help, she's real good,and I had them just done up, andthought she couldn't do much harm

with 'em. There! I knew Deacon Weightwouldn't rest easy till he got his downunder him. He's got it all scrunched up,settin' on it. It doos beat all how thatman routs round in his cheer."

"Hush, Diploma! I must ask you not tospeak so," said Miss Vesta. "DeaconWeight is an officer of the church. Ifear he may have chosen a chair notsufficiently ample for his person. There,that will do nicely! Now I think theroom looks quite as my dear sisterwould wish to see it. Does it not seemso to you, Diploma "

"The room's all right," said Diploma,gruffly; "but if Miss Blyth was here,

she'd tell you to go and lay down thisminute, Miss Vesty, and so I bid youdo. You're as white and scrunched asthat tidy. No wonder, after settin' upthese two nights, and all you've benthrough. I wish to goodness DoctorStrong had ben here; he'd have madeyou get a nurse, whether or whethern't.Doctor Stedman ain't got half the say-so to him that Doctor Strong has."

"You are mistaken, Diploma!" said MissVesta, blushing. "Doctor Stedmanspoke strongly, very strongly indeed. Hewas very firm on the point; indeed, hebecame incensed about it, but it wasnot a point on which I could give way.My dear sister always said that no

hireling should ever touch her person,and I consider it one of my crowningmercies that I was able to care for herto the last; with your help, my dearDiploma! I could not have done itwithout your help. I beg you to believehow truly grateful I am to you for yourdevotion."

"Well, there ain't no need, goodnessknows!" grumbled Diploma Crotty,"but if so you be, you'll go and laydown now, Miss Vesty, like a good girl.There! there's Mis' Weight comin' upthe steps this minute of time. I'll goand tell her you're on the bed and can'tsee her."

Was it Miss Vesta, gentle Miss Vesta,who answered It might have been MissPhoebe, with head erect and flashingeyes of displeasure.

"You will tell the simple truth,Diploma, if you please. Tell Mrs.Weight that I do not desire to see her.She should know better than to call atthis house to-day on any pretencewhatever. My dear sister would havebeen highly incensed at such a breachof propriety. I " the fire faded, and thelittle figure drooped, wavered, restedfor a moment on the arm of thefaithful servant. "I thank you, my goodDiploma. I will go and lie down now,as you thoughtfully suggest."

CHAPTER XII.

THE PEAK IN DARIEN

Then felt I like some watcher of theskies When a new planet swims into hisken: Or like stout Cortez, when witheagle eyes He stared at the Pacific, andall his men Look'd at each other with awild surmise Silent, upon a peak inDarien.

John Keats.

Behind the yellow walls of the post-

office Mr. Homer Hollopeter mourneddeeply and sincerely for his cousin. Thelittle room devoted to collecting anddispensing the United States mail,formerly a dingy and sordid den, hadbecome, through Mr. Homer's efforts,cheerfully seconded by those of WillJaquith, a little temple of shiningneatness, where even Miss Phoebe's orMiss Vesta's dainty feet might have trodwithout fear of pollution. It was morelike home to Mr. Homer than the barelittle room where he slept, and now thatit was his own, he delighted in dusting,polishing, and cleaning, as a womanmight have done. The walls werebrightly whitewashed, and adornedwith portraits of Keats and Shelley; on

brackets in two opposite cornersHomer and Shakespeare gazed at eachother with mutual approval. The stovewas black and glossy as an Ashanteechief, and the clock, once an unsightlymass of fly-specks and cobwebs, nowshowed a white front as immaculate asMr. Homer's own. Opposite the clockhung a large photograph, in ahandsome gilt frame, of a mountainpeak towering alone against a clear sky.

When Mr. Homer entered the post-office the day after Miss Phoebe'sfuneral, he carried in his hand a finewreath of ground pine tied with apurple ribbon, and this wreath heproceeded to hang over the mountain

picture. Will Jaquith watched him withwondering sympathy. The littlegentleman's eyes were red, and hishands trembled.

"Let me help you, sir!" cried Jaquith,springing up. "Let me hang it for you,won't you "

But Mr. Homer waved him off, gentlybut decidedly.

"I thank you, William, I thank you!" hesaid, "but I prefer to perform thisaction myself. It is a tribute, sir, to anadmirable woman. I wish to pay it inperson; in person."

After some effort he succeeded inattaching the wreath, and, standingback, surveyed it with mournful pride.

"I think that looks well," he said. "Myfingers are unaccustomed to twine anygarlands save those of a song; but Ithink that looks well, William "

"Very well, sir!" said Will, heartily. "It isa very handsome wreath; and howpretty the green looks against the gold!"

"The green is emblematic; it is the colorof memory," said Mr. Homer. "Thiswreath, though comparatively enduring,will fade, William; will a wither; will abecome dessicated in the natural

process of decay; but the memory ofmy beloved cousin will endure, sir, inone faithful heart, while that heartcontinues to beat; to throb; to apalpitate."

He was silent for a few minutes, gazingat the picture; then he continued:

"I had hoped," he said, sadly, "that atsome date in the near future my dearcousin would have condescended tovisit our retreat, William, and havefavored it with the seal of her approval.I venture to think that she would havefound its conditions improved;ameliorated a rendered more inaccordance with the ideal. But it was

not to be, sir, it was not to be. As thelamented Keats observes, 'The Spiritmourn'd "Adieu!"' She is gone, sir;gone!"

"I have often meant to ask you, sir,"said Will Jaquith, "what mountain thatis. I don't seem to recognize it."

Mr. Homer was silent, his eyes still fixedon the picture. Jaquith, thinking he hadnot heard, repeated the question.

"I heard you, William, I heard you!"said Mr. Homer, with dignity. "I wasconsidering what reply to make to you.That picture, sir, represents a Peak inDarien."

"Indeed!" said Will, in surprise. "Doyou know its name I did not thinkthere were any so high as this."

Mr. Homer waved his hands with avague gesture.

"I do not know its name!" he said,"Therefore I expressly said, a peak. I donot even know that this specialmountain is in Darien, though Iconsider it so; I consider it so. Thepicture, William, is a symbolical one tome. It represents a Woman."

"Woman!" repeated Jaquith, puzzled.

"Woman!" said Mr. Homer. His mildface flushed; he cleared his throatnervously, and opened and shut hismouth several times.

"I pay to-day, as I have told you, myyoung friend, a tribute to one admirablewoman; but the Peak in Dariensymbolizes a Woman, in general.Without Woman, sir, what, or where,should we be Until we attain aknowledge of a Woman, through themedium of the a Passion (I speak of itwith reverence!), what, or where are weWe journey over arid plains, weflounder in treacherous quagmires.Suddenly looms before us, clear againstthe sky, as here represented, the Peak in

Darien Woman! Guided by the aPassion (I speak of its lofty phases, sir,its lofty phases!), we scale those crystalheights. It may be in fancy only; it maybe that circumstances over which wehave no control forbid our ever settingan actual foot on even the bases of thePeak; but this is a case in which fancy issuperior to fact. In fancy, we scale thoseheights; and and we stare at the Pacific,sir, and look at each other with a wildsurmise silent, sir, silent, upon a Peak inDarien!"

Mr. Homer said no more, but stoodgazing at his picture, rapt incontemplation. Jaquith was silent, too,watching him, half in amusement, half

or more than half in something notunlike reverence. Mr. Homer was not animposing figure: his back was long, hislegs were short, his hair and nose weredistinctly absurd; but now, the homelyface seemed transfigured, irradiated byan inward glow of feeling.

Jaquith recalled Mrs. Tree's words. Hadthis quaint little gentleman really beenin love with his beautiful mother PoorMr. Homer! It was very funny, but itwas pathetic, too. Poor Mr. Homer!

The young man's thoughts ran onswiftly. The Peak in Darien! Well, thatwas all true. Only, how ifunconsciously he spoke aloud, his eyes

on the picture "How if a man weremisled for a time by I shall have to mixmy metaphors, Mr. Homer by a will-o'-the-wisp, and fell into the quagmire,and lost sight of his mountain for atime, only to find it again, more lovelythan would he have any right to whatwas it you said, sir to try once more toscale those crystal heights "

"Undoubtedly he would!" said Mr.Homer Hollopeter. "Undoubtedly, ifhe were sure of himself, sure that nofalse light I perceive the mixture ofmetaphors, but this cannot always beavoided would again fall across hispath."

"He is sure of that!" said Will Jaquith,under his breath.

He had risen, and the two men werestanding side by side, both intent uponthe picture. Twilight was falling, but aray of the setting sun stole through thelittle window, and rested upon the Peakin Darien.

"He is sure of that!" repeated WilliamJaquith.

When he spoke again, his voice washusky, his speech rapid and broken.

"Mr. Homer" (no one ever said "Mr.Hollopeter," nor would he have been

pleased if any one had), "I have beenhere six months, have I not six monthsto-morrow "

"Yes, William," said Mr. Homer, turninghis mild eyes on his assistant.

"Have I have I given satisfaction, sir "

"Eminent satisfaction!" said Mr.Homer, cordially. "William, I have hadno fault to find; none. Your punctuality,your exactness, your assiduity, leavenothing to be desired. This has been agreat gratification to me on manyaccounts."

"Then, you you think I have the right

to call myself a man once more; that Ihave the right to take up a man's life, itsjoys, as well as its labors "

"I think so, most emphatically," criedthe little gentleman, nodding his head."I think you deserve the best that lifehas to give."

"Then then, Mr. Homer, may I have aday off to-morrow, please I want" hebroke into a tremulous laugh, and laidhis hand on the elder man's shoulder,"I want to climb the Peak, Mr. Homer!"

* * * * *

So it came to pass one day, soon after

this, that as Mrs. Tree was sitting by herfire, with the parrot dozing on hisperch beside her, there came to thehouse two young people, who enteredwithout knock or ring, and cominghand in hand to her side, bent down,not saying a word, and kissed her.

"Highty tighty!" cried Mrs. Tree, hereyes twinkling very brightly under atremendous frown.

"What is the meaning of all this, Ishould like to know How dare you kissme, Willy Jaquith "

"Old friends to love!" said Jocko,opening one yellow eye, and ruffling

his feathers knowingly.

"Jocko knows how I dare!" said WillJaquith. "Dear old friend, I will tell youwhat it means. It means that I havebrought you another Golden Lily inplace of the one you said I spoiled.You can only have her to look at,though, for she is mine, mine and mymother's, and we cannot give her up,even to you."

"I didn't exactly break my promise,Lily!" cried the old lady; her handstrembled on her stick, but her cap waserect, immovable. "I didn't tell him, butI never promised not to tell JamesStedman, you know I never did."

The lovely, dark-eyed girl bent over herand kissed the withered cheek again.

"My dear! my naughty, wicked,delightful dear," she murmured, "howshall I ever forgive you or thank you "

CHAPTER XIII.

LIFE IN DEATH

"Drive to Miss Dane's!" said Mrs. Tree.

"Drive where " asked old Anthony,pausing with one foot on the step of

the ancient carryall.

"To Miss Dane's!"

"Well, I snum!" said old Anthony.

The Dane Mansion, as it was called,stood on the outskirts of the village; agaunt, gray house, standing well backfrom the road, with dark hedges ofNorway spruce drawn about it like afuneral scarf. The panelled woodenshutters of the front windows werenever opened, and a stranger passing bywould have thought the houseuninhabited; but all Elmerton knewthat behind those darkling hedges andclose shutters, somewhere in the depths

of the tall many-chimneyed house,lived "if you can call it living!" Mrs.Tree said Miss Virginia Dane. MissDane was a contemporary of Mrs.Tree's, indeed, report would have hersome years older, but she had no otherpoint of resemblance to that livelypotentate. She never left her house.None of the present generation ofElmertonians had ever seen her face;and to the rising generation, the boysand girls who passed the outer hedge,if dusk were coming on, with hurriedstep and quick affrighted glances, shewas a kind of spectre, a living phantomof the past, probably terrible to lookupon, certainly dreadful to think of.These terrors were heightened by the

knowledge, diffused one hardly knewhow, that Miss Dane was a spiritualist,and that in her belief at least, the silenthouse was peopled with departedDanes, the brothers and sisters ofwhom she was the last remaining one.

Things being thus, it was perhaps notstrange that old Anthony, usually themost discreet of choremen, was drivenby surprise to the extent of"snumming" by the order he received.He allowed himself no furthercomment, however, but flecked the fatbrown horse on the ear with his whip,and said "Gitty up!" with more interestthan he usually manifested.

Mrs. Tree was arrayed in her Indiashawl, and crowned with the bird-of-paradise bonnet, from which swept anample veil of black lace. She sat boltupright in the carriage, her stick firmlyplanted in front of her, her handscrossed on its crutch handle, and herwhole air was one of uncompromisingenergy.

"Shall I knock " said Anthony, glancingup at the blind house-front with anexpression which said plainly enough"It won't be any use."

"No, I'm going to get out. Here, helpme! the other side, ninnyhammer! Youhave helped me out on the wrong side

for forty years, Anthony Barker; I mustbe a saint after all, or I never shouldhave stood it."

The old lady mounted the granite stepsbriskly, and knocked smartly on thedoor with the top of her stick. Aftersome delay it was opened by a grim-looking elderly woman with aforbidding squint.

"How do you do, Keziah I am comingin. You may wait for me, Anthony."

"I don't know as Miss Dane feels up toseein' company, Mis' Tree," said thegrim woman, doubtfully, holding thedoor in her hand.

"Folderol!" said Mrs. Tree, waving heraside with her stick. "She's in hersitting-room, I suppose. To be sure!How are you, Virginia "

The room Mrs. Tree entered was gauntand gray like the house itself; high-studded, with blank walls of gray paint,and wintry gleams of marble onchimneypiece and furniture. Gaunt andgray, too, was the figure seated in therigid high-backed chair, a tall oldwoman in a black gown and a closemuslin cap like that worn by theShakers, with a black ribbon boundround her forehead. Her high featuresshowed where great beauty, of a

masterful kind, had once dwelt; hersunken eyes were cold and dim as asteel mirror that has lain long buriedand has forgotten how to give back thelight.

These eyes now dwelt upon Mrs. Tree,with recognition, but no warmth orkindliness in their depths.

"How are you, Virginia " repeated thevisitor. "Come, shake hands! you arealive, you know, after a fashion; where'sthe use of pretending you are not "

Miss Dane extended a long, cold,transparent hand, and then motionedto a seat.

"I am well, Marcia," she said, coldly. "Ihave been well for the past fifteen years,since we last met."

"I made the last visit, I remember," saidMrs. Tree, composedly, hooking a grayhorsehair footstool toward her with herstick, and settling her feet on it. "Yougave me to understand then that I neednot come again till I had somethingspecial to say, so I have stayed away."

"I have no desire for visitors," said MissDane. She spoke in a hollow, inwardmonotone, which somehow gave theimpression that she was in the habit oftalking to herself, or to something that

made no response. "My soul is fitcompany for me."

"I should think it might be!" said Mrs.Tree.

"Besides, I am surrounded by theBlessed," Miss Dane went on. "Thisroom probably appears bare andgloomy to your eyes, Marcia, but I see itpeopled by the Blessed, in troops,crowding about me, robed andcrowned."

"I hope they enjoy themselves," saidMrs. Tree. "I will not interrupt you orthem more than a few minutes,Virginia. I want to ask if you have

made your will. A singular question,but I have my reasons for asking."

"Certainly I have; years ago."

"Have you left anything to Mary JaquithMary Ashton "

"No!" A spark crept into the dim grayeyes.

"So I supposed. Did you know that shewas poor, and blind "

There was a pause.

"I did not know that she was blind,"Miss Dane said, presently. "For her

poverty, she has herself to thank."

"Yes! she married the man she loved. Itwas a crime, I suppose. You would havehad her live on here with you all herdays, and turn to stone slowly."

"I brought Mary Ashton up as my ownchild," Miss Dane went on; and therewas an echo of some past emotion inher deathly voice. "She chose to followher own way, in defiance of my wishes,of my judgment. She sowed the wind,and she has reaped the whirlwind. Weare as far apart as the dead and theliving."

"Just about!" said Mrs. Tree. "Now,

Virginia Dane, listen to me! I havecome here to make a proposal, andwhen I have made it I shall go away,and that is the last you will see of me inthis world, or most likely in the next.Mary Ashton married a scamp, as otherwomen have done and will do to theend of the chapter. She paid for hermistake, poor child, and no one hasever heard a word of complaint orrepining from her. She got alongsomehow; and now her boy, Will, hascome home, and means to be a goodson, and will be one, too, and see hercomfortable the rest of her days. ButWill wants to marry. He is engaged toAndrew Bent's daughter, a sweet, prettygirl, born and grown up while you have

been sitting here in your coffin,Virginia Dane. Now they won't take anymore help from me, and I like 'em forit; and yet I want them to have more todo with. Will is clerk in the post-office,and his salary would give the three ofthem skim milk and red herrings, butnot much more. I want you to leavethem some money, Virginia."

There was a pause, during which thetwo pairs of eyes, the dim gray and thefiery black, looked into each other.

"This is a singular request, Marcia," saidMiss Dane, at last. "I believe I havenever offered you advice as to thebestowal of your property; nor, if I

remember aright, is Mary Ashtonrelated to you in any way."

"Cat's foot!" said Mrs. Tree, shortly."Don't mount your high horse with me,Jinny, because it won't do any good. Idon't know or care anything about yourproperty; you may leave it to the cat foraught I care. What I want is to give yousome of mine to leave to WilliamJaquith, in case you die first."

She then made a definite proposal, towhich Miss Dane listened with severeattention.

"And suppose you die first," said thelatter. "What then "

"Oh, my will is all right, I have left himmoney enough. But there's no moreprospect of my dying than there wastwenty years ago. I shall live to be ahundred."

"I also come of a long-lived family,"said Miss Dane.

"I thought the Blessed might get tiredof waiting, and come and fetch you,"said Mrs. Tree, dryly; "besides, youhaven't so far to go as I have. Seriously,one of us must in common decency gobefore long, Virginia; it is hardlyrespectable for both of us to linger inthis way. Now, if you will only listen to

reason, when the time does come foreither of us, Willy Jaquith is sure ofcomfort for the rest of his days. Whatdo you say "

Miss Dane was silent for some time.Finally:

"I will consider the matter," she said,coldly. "I cannot answer you at thismoment, Marcia. You have broken inupon the current of my thoughts, anddisturbed the peace of my soul. I willcommunicate with you by writing,when my decision is reached; nosecond interview will be necessary."

"I'm glad you think so," said Mrs. Tree,

rising. "I wasn't intending to comeagain. You knew that Phoebe Blyth wasdead "

"I knew that Phoebe had passed out ofthis sphere," replied Miss Dane."Keziah learned it from the purveyor."

She paused a moment, and then added,"Phoebe was with me last night."

"Was she " said Mrs. Tree, grimly. "I'msorry to hear it. Phoebe was a goodwoman, if she did have her faults."

"You may be glad to hear that she is ina blessed state at present," the coldmonotone went on. "She came with my

sisters Sophia and Persis; Timothea wasalso with them, and inquired for you."

"H'm!" said Mrs. Tree.

"I have no wish to rouse youranimosity, Marcia," continued MissDane, after another pause, "and I amwell aware of your condition ofhardened unbelief; but we are not likelyto meet again in this sphere, and sinceyou have sought me out in myretirement, I feel bound to tell you, thatI have received several visits of latefrom your husband, and that he is morethan ever concerned about yourspiritual welfare. If you wish it, I willrepeat to you what he said."

The years fell away from MarciaDarracott like a cloak. She made twoquick steps forward, her little handsclenched, her tiny figure towering like aflame.

"You dare " she said, then stoppedabruptly. The blaze died down, and thetwinkle came instead into her brighteyes. She laughed her little rustlinglaugh, and turned to go. "Good-by,Jinny," she said; "you don't mean to befunny, but you are. Ethan Tree is inheaven; but if you think he wouldcome back from the pit to see you tehee! Good-by, Jinny Dane!"

Mrs. Tree sat bolt upright again all theway home, and chuckled several times.

"Now, that woman's jealousy is such,"she said, aloud, "that, rather than haveme do for her niece, she'll leave her halfher fortune and die next week, just tospite me." (In point of fact, thisprophecy came almost literally to pass,not a week, but a month later.)

"Yes, Anthony, a very pleasant call,thank ye. Help me out; the other side, oldstep-and-fetch-it! I believe you were ahundred years old when I was born.Yes, that's all. Direxia Hawkes, give hima cup of coffee; he's got chilled waitingin the cold. No, I'm warm enough; I

had something to warm me."

In spite of this last declaration, whenlittle Mrs. Bliss came in half an hourlater to see the old lady, she found herwith her feet on the fender, sipping hotmulled wine, and declaring that themarrow was frozen in her bones.

"I have been sitting in a tomb," shesaid, in answer to the visitor's alarmedinquiries, "talking to a corpse. Did youever see Virginia Dane "

Mrs. Bliss opened her blue eyes wide."Oh, no, Mrs. Tree. I didn't know thatany one ever saw Miss Dane. I thoughtshe was "

"She is dead," said Mrs. Tree. "I havebeen talking with her corpse, I tell you,and I don't like corpses. You are aliveand warm, and I like you. Tell me somescandal."

"Oh, Mrs. Tree!"

"Well, tell me about the baby, then. Isuppose there's no harm in my askingthat. If I live much longer, I sha'n't beallowed to talk about anything exceptgruel and nightcaps. How's the baby "

"Oh, he is so well, Mrs. Tree, and such adarling! He looks like a perfect beautyin that lovely cloak. I must bring him

round in it to show to you. It is thehandsomest thing I ever saw, and itdidn't look a bit yellow after it waspressed."

"I got it in Canton," said Mrs. Tree."My baby I never had but one wasborn in the China seas. Here's hercoral."

She motioned toward her lap, and Mrs.Bliss saw that a small chest of carvedsandalwood lay open on her knees, fullof trinkets and odds and ends.

"It is very pretty," said little Mrs. Bliss,lifting the coral and bells reverently.

"Her name was Lucy," said Mrs. Tree."She married Arthur Blyth, cousin tothe girls, and died when little Arthurwas born. You may have that for yourbaby; I'm keeping Arthur's for littleVesta's child. If you thank me, yousha'n't have it."

CHAPTER XIV.

TOMMY CANDY, AND THELETTER HE BROUGHT

"How do you do, Thomas Candy " saidMrs. Tree.

"How-do-you-do-Missis-Tree-I'm-pretty-well-thank-you-and-hope-you-are- the-same!" replied Tommy Candy,in one breath.

"Humph! you shake hands better thanyou did; but remember to press withthe palm, not pinch with the fingers!Now, what do you want "

"I brung you a letter," said TommyCandy. "I was goin' by the post-office,and Mr. Jaquith hollered to me and saidbring it to you, and so I brung it."

"I thank you, Thomas," said the oldlady, taking the letter and laying it downwithout looking at it. "Sit down! There

are burnt almonds in the ivory box.Humph! I hear very bad accounts ofyou, Tommy Candy."

Tommy looked up from an ardentconsideration of the relative size of theburnt almonds; his face was that of afreckled cherub who knew not sin.

"What is all this about Isaac Weight andTimpson Boody, the sexton I hear youwere at the bottom of the affair."

The freckled cherub vanished; insteadappeared an imp, with a complex andilluminating grin pervading even theroots of his hair.

"Ho!" he chuckled. "I tell ye, Mis' Tree,I had a time! I tell ye I got even withold Booby and Squashnose Weight,too, that time. Ho! ha! Yes'm, I did."

"You are an extremely naughty boy!"said Mrs. Tree, severely. "Sit there don'twriggle in your cheer; you are not aneel, though I admit you are the nextthing to it and tell me every word aboutit, do you hear "

"Every word " echoed Tommy Candy.

"Every word."

Their eyes met; and, if twinkle mettwinkle, still her brows were severe, and

her cap simply awful. Tommy Candychuckled again. "I tell ye!" he said.

He reflected a moment, nibbling analmond absently, then leaned forward,and, clasping his hands over bothknees, began his tale.

"Old Booby's ben pickin' on me eversence I can remember. I don't git nocomfort goin' to meetin', he picks onme so. Ever anybody sneezes, or dropsa hymn-book, or throws a lozenger, helays it to me, and he ketches me aftermeetin' and pulls my ears. Last Sundayhe took away every lozenger I had, fivecents' wuth, jest because I stuck one onDoctor Pottle's co't in the pew front of

our'n. So then I swowed I'd haverevenge, like that feller in the poetry-book you lent me. So next day afterschool I seed him well, saw him comealong with his glass-settin' tools, and goto work settin' some glass in one of themeetin'-house winders. Some o' themlittle small panes got broke somehowyes'm, I did, but I never meant to,honest I didn't. I was jest tryin' my newcatapult, and I never thought they'dhave such measly glass as all that. Well,so I see saw him get to work, and I saysto Squashnose Weight we was goin'home from school together I says, 'Let'sgo up in the gallery!' Old Booby hadleft the door open, and 'twas rightunder the gallery that he was to work.

So we went up; and I had my pocketfull of split peas no'm, I didn't have mybean-blower along; I'd known betterthan to take it into the meetin'-house,anyway; and we slipped in behind oldBooby's back and got up into thegallery, and I slid the winder up easy,and we commenced droppin' peasdown on his head. He's bald as abedpost, you know, and to see thempeas hop up and roll off I tell ye, 'twassport! Old Booby didn't know what inthunder was the matter at first. Firsttwo or three he jest kind o' shooed withhis hand thought it was hossflies,mebbe, or June-bugs; but we went ondroppin' of 'em, and they hopped andskipped off his head like bullets, and

bumby he see one on the ground. Hepicked it up and looked it all over, andthen he looked up. You know how heopens his mouth and sort o' squinniesup his eyes Mis' Tree, I couldn't help it,no way in the world; I jest dropped ahandful of peas right down into hismouth. 'Twa'n't no great of a shot, forhe opened the spread of a quart dipper;but Squashnose he sung out 'Geewhittakers!' and raised up his head, andold Booby saw him. Well, the way hedropped his tools and put for the doorwas a caution. We thought we could getdown before he reached the gallerystairs, but I caught my pants on a nail,and Squashnose got his foot wedged inbetween two benches, and, by the time

we got loose, we heard old Boobycomin' poundin' up the stairs like allpossessed. There wa'n't nothin' to dothen but cut and run up the belfryladder. We slipped off our shoes andstockin's, and thought mebbe we couldget up without him hearin' us, but hedid hear, and up he come full chisel,puffin' and cussin' like all creation.

"We waited there wa'n't nothin' else todo; and I meant I reely did, Mis' Tree toown up and say I was sorry and takemy lickin'; but that Squashnose Weighthe makes me tired! the minute he seeold Booby's bald head comin' up theladder, he hollers out, 'Tommy Candydid it, Mr. Boody! Tommy Candy did it;

he's got his pocket full of 'em now. Isee him!'

"Well, you bet I was mad then! I gotholt of him and give his head onegood ram against the wall; and thenwhen old Booby stepped up into theloft, I dropped down on all fours andrun between his legs, and upset himonto Squashnose, and clum down theladder and run home. That was everylivin' thing I done, Mis' Tree, honest itwas; and they blame it all on me, thelickin' Squashnose got, and all. I givehim a good one, too, next day. I drutherbe me than him, anyway."

"Humph!" said Mrs. Tree. She did not

look at Tommy, but held the Chinesescreen before her face. "Did did yourfather whip you well, Tommy "

"Yes'm, he did so, the best lickin' I hadthis year; I dono but the best I ever had,but 'twas wuth it!"

When Master Candy left Mrs. Tree hehad a neat and concise little lecturepassing through his head, on its wayfrom one ear to the other, and in hispocket an assortment of squares of fig-paste, red and white. The red, as Mrs.Tree pointed out to him, had nuts inthem.

Left alone, the old lady put down the

screen, and let the twinkle have its ownway. She shook her head two or threetimes at the fire, and laughed a littlerustling laugh.

"Solomon Candy! Solomon Candy!"she said. "A chip of the old block!"

Then she took up her letter.

Half an hour later Miss Vesta, comingin for her daily visit (for Miss Phoebe'sdeath had brought the aunt and nieceeven nearer together than they werebefore), found her aunt in a state ofhigh indignation. She began to speakthe moment Miss Vesta entered theroom.

"Vesta, don't say a word to me! do youhear not a single word! I will not put upwith it for an instant; understand thatonce and for all!"

"Dear Aunt Marcia," said Miss Vesta,mildly, "I may say good morning, surelyWhat has put you about to-day "

"I have had a letter. The impudence ofthe woman, writing to me! Now, Vesta,don't look at me in that way, for youhave some sense, if not much, and youknow perfectly well it was impudent.Folderol! don't tell me! her dear aunt,indeed! I'll dear-aunt her, if she tries toset foot in this house."

Miss Vesta's puzzled brow cleared."Oh," she said, "I see, Aunt Marcia.You also have had a letter from Maria."

"Read it!" said Mrs. Tree. "I'd take it upwith the tongs, if I were you."

Miss Vesta did not think it necessary toobey this injunction, but unfolded thesquare of scented paper which her auntindicated, and read as follows:

"MY DEAR AUNT: I was muchgrieved to hear of poor Phoebe's death.It seems very strange that I was notinformed of her illness; being her ownfirst cousin, it would have been natural

and gratifying for me to have shared thelast sad hours with you and Vesta; butmalice is no part of my nature, and Iam quite ready to overlook the neglect.You and Vesta must miss Phoebe sadly,and be very lonely, and I feel it a dutythat I must not shirk to come and showyou both that to me, at least, blood isthicker than water. One drop ofDarracott blood, I always say, is enoughto establish a claim on me. It is a longtime since I have been in Elmerton, andI should like above all things to bringmy two sweet girls, to show them theirmother's early home, and present themto their venerable relation. I think youwould find them not inferior, to say theleast, to some others who have been

more put forward to catch the eye. Aviolet by a mossy stone has always beenmy idea of a young woman. However,my daughters' engagements are sonumerous, and they are so much soughtafter, that it will be impossible for me tobring them at present; later I shall hopeto do so. I propose to divide my visitimpartially between you and poor Vesta,but shall go to her first, being the onein affliction, since such we are biddento visit.

"Looking forward with great pleasureto my visit with you, and hoping thatthis may find you in the enjoyment ofsuch a measure of health as youradvanced years may allow, I am, my

dear Aunt,

"Your affectionate niece, "MARIADARRACOTT PRYOR."

"When you have finished it, you mayput it into the fire," said Mrs. Tree."Bah! what did she say to you Cat! Idon't mean you, Vesta."

But Miss Vesta, with all her dove-likequalities, had something of the wisdomof the serpent, and had no idea ofrepeating what Mrs. Pryor had said toher. Several phrases rose to her mind,"Aunt Marcia's few remaining days onearth," "precarious spiritual conditionof which reports have reached me,"

"spontaneous distribution of familyproperty," etc., and she rejoiced in beingable to say calmly, "I did not bring theletter with me, Aunt Marcia. Mariaspeaks of her intended visit, and seemsto look forward with much pleasure to"

"Vesta Blyth," said Mrs. Tree, "look mein the eye!"

"Yes, dear Aunt Marcia," said the littlelady. Her soft brown eyes met fearlesslythe black sparks which gleamed fromunder Mrs. Tree's eyebrows. She smiled,and laid her hand gently on that of theelder woman.

"There is no earthly use in your smilingat me, Vesta," the old lady went on. "Isee nothing whatever to smile about. Iwish simply to say, as I have saidbefore, that after I am dead you may doas you please; but I am not dead yet,and while I live, Maria Darracott setsno foot in this house."

"Dear Aunt Marcia!"

"No foot in this house!" repeated Mrs.Tree. "Not the point of her toe, if shehad a point. She was born splay-footed,and I suppose she'll die so. Not thepoint of her toe!"

Miss Vesta was silent for a moment. If

she were only like Phoebe! She must tryher best to do as Phoebe would havewished.

"Aunt Marcia," she said, "you havealways been so near and dear so verynear and so infinitely dear and kind, tous, especially to Nathaniel and me, andto Nathaniel's children, that I fear yousometimes forget the fact that Maria isprecisely the same relation to you thatwe are."

"Cat's foot, fiddlestick, folderol, fudge!"remarked Mrs. Tree, blandly.

"Dear Aunt Marcia, do not speak so, Ibeg of you. Only think, Uncle James,

Maria's father, was your own brother."

"His wife wasn't my own sister!" saidMrs. Tree, grimly. Then she blazed outsuddenly. "Vesta Blyth, you are a goodgirl, and I am very fond of you; but Iknow what I am about, and I behave asI intend to behave. My brother Jameswas a good man, though I never couldunderstand the ground he took aboutthe Copleys. He had no more right tothem but that is neither here nor there.His wife was a cat, and her motherbefore her was a cat, and her daughterafter her is a cat. I don't like cats, and Inever have had them in this house, andI never will. That's all there is to it. Ifthat woman comes here, I'll set the

parrot on her."

"Scat!" said the parrot, waking from adoze and ruffling his feathers."Quousque tandem, O Catilina Vesta,Vesta, don't you pester!"

Miss Vesta sighed. "Then what will yousay to Maria, Aunt Marcia "

"I sha'n't say anything to her!" repliedthe old lady, snappishly.

"Surely you must answer her letter,dear."

"Must I! 'Must got bust,' they used tosay when I was a girl."

"Surely you will answer it " said MissVesta, altering the unlucky form ofwords.

"Nothing of the sort! She has had theimpudence to write to me, and she cananswer herself."

"She cannot very well do that, AuntMarcia."

"Then she can go without.

"'Tiddy hi, toddy ho, Tiddy hi hum,Thus was it when Barbara Popkins wasyoung!'"

Miss Vesta sighed again; it was always abad sign when Mrs. Tree began to sing.

"Very well, Aunt Marcia," she said, aftera pause, rising. "I will answer for both,then. I will say that "

"Say that I am blind, deaf, and dumb!"her aunt commanded. "Say that I havethe mumps and the chicken-pox, andam recommended absolute retirement.Say I have my sins to think about, andhave no time for anything else. Sayanything you like, Vesta, but run alongnow, like a good girl, and let me getsmoothed out before that poor littleparson comes to see me. He's coming atfive. Last time I scared him out of a

year's growth te-hee! and he has noneto spare, inside or out. Good-by, mydear."

CHAPTER XV.

MARIA

"My dearest Vesta, what a pleasure tosee you! You are looking wretched,simply wretched! How thankful I amthat I came!"

Mrs. Pryor embraced her cousin witheffusion. She was short and fair, withprominent eyes and teeth, and she wore

a dress that crackled and ornamentsthat clinked. Miss Vesta, in her dove-colored cashmere and white net,seemed to melt into her surroundingsand form part of them, but Mrs. Pryorstood out against them like a pumpagainst an evening sky.

"It was very kind of you to come,Maria," said Miss Vesta, "very kindindeed. I trust you had a comfortablejourney, and are not too tired."

"My dear," said Mrs. Pryor, buoyantly,"I am never tired. Watchspring and wireMr. Pryor always said that was what hislittle Maria was made of. But it wouldhave made no difference if I had been

at the point of exhaustion, I wouldhave made any effort to come to you.Darracott blood, my love! Any onewho has a drop of Darracott blood inhis veins can call upon me for anything;how much more you, who are my ownfirst cousin. Poor, dear Phoebe, what aloss! You are not in black, I see. Ah! Iremember her peculiar views. You feelbound to respect them. I consider thata mistake, Vesta. We must respect, butwe are not called upon to imitate, theeccentricities "

"I share my sister's views," said MissVesta, tranquilly. "Will you have a cupof tea now, Maria, or would you like togo to your room at once "

"Neither, my dear, just at this moment,"said Mrs. Pryor, vivaciously. "I mustjust take a glance around. Dear me!how many years is it since I have beenin this house Had Phoebe aged asmuch as you have, Vesta Single women,of course, always age faster, no younglife to keep them girlish. Ah! you mustsee my two sweet girls. Angels, Vesta!and Darracotts to their finger-ends. Ifeel like a child again, positively like achild. The parlor is exactly as Iremember it, only faded. Things dofade so, don't they It's a mistake not tokeep your furniture fresh and up todate. I should re-cover those chairs, if Iwere you; nothing would be easier. A

few yards of something bright andpretty, a few brass-headed nails why, Icould do it in a couple of hours. Wemust see what we can do, Vesta. And itis a pity, it seems to me, to haveeverything so bare, tables and all.Beautiful polish, to be sure, but theylook so bleak. A chenille cover, now,here and there, a bright drape or two,would transform this room; all this oldred damask is terribly antiquated, mydear. It comes of having no young lifeabout you, as I said. My girls have suchtaste! You should see our parlor athome not an inch but is covered withsomething bright and aesthetic. Ah!here are the portraits. Yes, to be sure.Do you know, Vesta, I have often

thought of writing to you and Phoebein fact, I was on the point of it whenthe sad news came of poor Phoebe'sbeing taken about these portraits ofGrandfather and GrandmotherDarracott. Grandmother Darracott leftthem to your branch, I am well awareof that; but justice is justice, and I dothink we ought to have one of them.We have just as much Darracott bloodin our veins as you have, and you andPhoebe were always Blyth all over,while the Darracott nose and chinshow so strongly in me and mychildren. You have no children, Vesta,and I always think it is the futuregenerations that should be considered.We are passing away, my dear, in the

midst of life, you know, and poorPhoebe's death reminds us of it, I'msure, more than ever you don't look asif you had more than a year or twobefore you yourself, Vesta, but well andso I confess it seems to me as if youmight feel more at ease in your mind ifwe had one of the portraits. Of courseI should be willing to pay something,though I always think it a pity formoney to pass between blood relations.What do you say "

She paused, somewhat out of breath,and sat creaking and clinking, andfanning herself with a Chinese hand-screen.

Miss Vesta looked up at the portraits.Grandmother Darracott in turban andshawl, Grandfather Darracott splendidwith frill and gold seals, looked downon her benignantly, as they had alwayslooked. They had been part of her life,these kindly, silent figures. She hadalways felt sure of GrandmotherDarracott's sympathy andunderstanding. Sometimes when, as achild, she fancied herself naughty (butshe never was!), she would appeal fromthe keen, inquiring gaze ofGrandfather Darracott to those softbrown eyes, so like her own, if she hadonly known it; and the brown eyesnever failed to comfort and reassureher.

Part with one of those pictures Amonth ago the request would havebrought her distress and searchings ofheart, with wonder whether it mightnot be her duty to do so just because itwas painful; but Miss Vesta waschanged. It was as if Miss Phoebe, inpassing, had let the shadow of hermantle fall on her younger sister.

"I cannot consider the question,Maria!" she said, quietly. "My dear sisterwould have been quite unwilling to doso, I am sure. And now, as I have dutiesto attend to, shall I show you yourroom "

Miss Vesta drifted up the wide staircase,and Mrs. Pryor stumped and creakedbehind her.

"You have put me in Phoebe's room, Isuppose," said the visitor, as theyreached the landing. "So near you, I cangive you any attention you may need inthe night. Besides, the sun oh, thedimity room! Well, I dare say it will dowell enough. Stuffy, isn't it but I am theeasiest person in the world to satisfy.And how is Aunt Marcia I shall go tosee her the first thing in the morning;she will hardly expect me to call thisafternoon, though I could make aspecial effort if you think she wouldfeel sensitive."

"Indeed, Maria, I am very sorry, but Idon't feel sure in fact, I rather fear thatyou may not be able to see AuntMarcia, at all events just at present."

"Not be able to see her! My dear Vesta,what can you mean Why, I am going tostay with Aunt Marcia. I wrote to her aswell as to you, and said that I shoulddivide my visit equally between you. Ofcourse I feel all that I owe to you, mylove; I have made all my arrangementsfor a long stay; indeed, it happens to fitin very well with my plans, but I neednot trouble you with details now. WhatI mean to say is, that in spite of all Iowe to you, I have also a sacred duty to

fulfil toward my aunt. It is impossiblein the nature of things that she shouldlive much longer, and as her own nieceand the mother of a family I ambound, solemnly bound, to soothe andcheer a few, at least, of her closing days.I suppose the dear old thing feels alittle hurt that I did not go to her first,from what you say; old people are verytetchy, I ought to have rememberedthat, but you were the one in affliction,and I felt bound but I will make that allright, never fear, in the morning. There,my dear, don't, I beg of you, giveyourself the slightest uneasiness aboutthe matter! I am quite able to take careof myself, and of you and Aunt Marciainto the bargain. You do not know me,

my dear! Yes, Diploma can bring me thetea now, and I will unpack and setthings to rights a bit. You will not mindif I move the furniture about a little Ihave my own ideas, and they are notalways such bad ones. Good-by, mylove! Go and rest now, you look like aghost. I shall have to take you in handat once, I see; so fortunate that I came.Good-by!"

Miss Vesta, descending the stairs with atroubled brow, was met by Diplomawith the announcement that DoctorStedman was in the parlor.

"Oh!" Miss Vesta breathed a little sighof pleasure and relief, and hastened

down.

"Good afternoon, James! I am rejoicedto see you. I something perplexing hasoccurred; perhaps you may be able toadvise me. Sister Phoebe would haveknown exactly what to do, but Iconfess I am puzzled. Our my cousin,Mrs. Pryor, has arrived this afternoon."

"Mrs. Pryor!" said Doctor Stedman."Any one I ought to know "

"Maria Darracott. Surely you rememberher "

"Hum! yes, I remember her. She hasn'tcome here, to this house "

"Yes; she is up-stairs now, unpackingher trunk. She has come to make a longstay, it would appear from the size ofthe trunk. Of course I am of course itwas very kind in her to come, and Ishall do my best to make her stayagreeable; but James, she intends tomake Aunt Marcia a visit, too, and AuntMarcia absolutely refuses to see her.What shall I do "

Doctor Stedman chuckled. "Do I wishyou had followed your aunt's example;but that was not to be expected. Hum! Idon't see that you can do anything.Your aunt is not amenable to the bit,not even the slightest snaffle; as to

driving her with a curb, I should like tosee the man who would attempt it.Won't see her, eh ho! ho! Mrs. Tree isthe one consistent woman I have everknown."

"But Maria is entirely unconvinced,James; I cannot make any impressionupon her. She is determined to go tosee Aunt Marcia to-morrow, and I fear"

"Let her go! she is of age, if Iremember rightly; let her go and try forherself. You are not responsible forwhat occurs. Vesta let me look at you!Hum! I wish you would turn thisvisitor out, and go away somewhere for

a bit."

"Go away, James I "

"Yes, you! You are not looking at all thething, I tell you. It's all very well andvery everything that is like you to takethis trouble simply and naturally, butwhatever you may say and believe, thereis the shock and there is the strain, andthose are things we have to pay forsooner or later. Go away, I tell you!Send away this this visitor, giveDiploma the key, and go offsomewhere for a month or two. Go andmake Nat a visit! Poor old Nat, he'slonely enough, with little Vesta and herhusband in Europe. Think what it

would mean to him, Vesta, to have youwith him for awhile!"

"My dear James, you take my breathaway," said Miss Vesta, fluttering a little."You are most kind and friendly, butbut it would not be possible for me togo away. I could not think of it for amoment, even if the laws of hospitalitydid not bind me as long as Maria myown cousin, remember, James choosesto stay here. I could not think of it."

"I should like to know why!" saidDoctor Stedman, obstinately. "I shouldlike to know what your reasons are,Vesta."

"Oh!" Miss Vesta sighed, as if she feltthe hopelessness of fluttering herwings against the dead wall ofmasculinity before her; nevertheless shespoke up bravely.

"I have given you one reason already,James. It would be not only unseemly,but impossible, for me to leave myguest. But even without that, even if Iwere entirely alone, still I could not go.My duties; the house; my dear sister'sideas, she always said a house could notbe left for a month by the entire familywithout deteriorating in some waythough Diploma is most excellent, mostfaithful. Then, it is a small matter, but Ihave always cared for my seaward lamp

in person. I have never been away,James, since I first lighted the lamp.Then "

"I am still waiting for a reason," saidDoctor Stedman, grimly. "I have notheard what I call one yet."

The soft color rose in Miss Vesta's face,and she lifted her eyes to his with alook he had seen in them once or twicebefore.

"Then here is one for you, James," shesaid, quietly. "I do not wish to go!"

Doctor Stedman rose abruptly, andtramped up and down the room in

moody silence. Miss Vesta sighed, andwatched his feet. They were heavilybooted, but no, there were no nails inthem, and the shining floor remainedintact.

Suddenly he came to a stop in front ofher.

"What if I carried you off, youinflexible little piece of porcelain " hesaid. "What if Vesta, may I speak oncemore "

"Oh, if you would please not, James!"cried Miss Vesta, a soft hurry in hervoice, her cheeks very pink. "I shouldbe so truly grateful to you if you would

not. I am so happy in your friendship,James. It is such a comfort, such areliance to me. Do not, I beg of you,my dear friend, disturb it."

"But you are alone, child. If Phoebehad lived, I had made up my mindnever to trouble you again. She is gone,and you are alone, and tired, and I findit hard to bear, Vesta. I do indeed."

He spoke with heat and feeling. MissVesta's eyes were full of tenderness asshe raised them to his.

"You are so kind, James!" she said. "Noone ever had a kinder or more faithfulfriend; of that I am sure. But you must

never think that, about my being alone.I am never alone; almost never at least,not so very often, even lonely. I livewith a whole life-full of blessedmemories. Besides, I have Aunt Marcia.She needs me more and more, and byand by, when her marvellous strengthbegins to fail, for it must fail, she willneed me constantly. I can never, neverfeel alone while Aunt Marcia lives."

"Hum!" said Doctor Stedman. "Well,good-by! Poison Maria's tea, and I'll letyou off with that. I'll send you up apowder of corrosive sublimate in themorning there! there! don't lookhorrified. You never can understand orI never can. I mean, I'll send you some

bromide for yourself. Don't tell me thatyou are sleeping well, for I know better.Good-by, my dear!"

CHAPTER XVI.

DOCTOR STEDMAN'S PATIENT

Bright and early the next morning, Mrs.Pryor presented herself at Mrs. Tree'sdoor. It was another Indian summermorning, mild and soft. As she cameup the street, Mrs. Pryor had seen, orthought she had seen, a figure sitting inthe wicker rocking-chair on the porch.The chair was empty now, but it was

rocking perhaps with the wind.

Direxia Hawkes answered the visitor'sknock.

"How do you do, Direxia " said Mrs.Pryor, in sprightly tones. "Youremember me, of course, Miss Maria.Will you tell Mrs. Tree that I have come,please "

She made a motion to enter, butDirexia stood in the doorway, grim andforbidding.

"Mis' Tree can't see anybody thismorning," she said.

Mrs. Pryor smiled approvingly. "I seeyou are a good watch-dog, Direxia.Very proper, I am sure, not to let myaunt, at her age, be annoyed by ordinaryvisitors; but your care is unnecessary inthis case. I will just step into the parlor,and you can tell her that I am here.Probably she will wish me to come upat once to her room, but you may aswell go first, just to prepare her. Anyshock, however joyful, is to be avoidedwith the aged."

She moved forward again, but DirexiaHawkes did not stir.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I am so; but Ican't let you in, Mis' Pryor, I can't

nohow."

"Cannot let me in " repeated Mrs.Pryor. "What does this mean It is someconspiracy. Of course I know there is ajealousy, but this is too stand aside thismoment, my good creature, and don'tbe insolent, or you will repent of it. Ishall inform my aunt. Do you knowwho I am "

"Yes'm, I know well enough who youare. Yes'm, I know you are her ownniece, but if you was fifty nieces Icouldn't let you in. She ain't goin' to seea livin' soul to-day except DoctorStedman. You might see him, after he'sben here," she added, relenting a little at

the keen chagrin in the visitor's face.

Mrs. Pryor caught at the straw.

"Ah! she has sent for Doctor Stedman.Very right, very proper! Of course, ifmy aunt does not think it wise to seeany one until after the physician's visit,I can understand that. Nobody is morecareful about such matters than I am. Iwill see Doctor Stedman myself, get hisadvice and directions, and call again.Give my love to my aunt, Direxia, andtell her" she stretched her neck towardthe door "tell her that I am greatlydistressed not to see her, and still moreto hear that she is indisposed; but thatvery soon, as soon as possible after the

doctor's visit, I shall come again anddevote myself to her."

"Scat!" said a harsh voice from within.

"Mercy on me! what's that " cried Mrs.Pryor.

"Scat! quousque tandem, O Catilina Helenwas a beauty, Xantippe was "

"Hold your tongue!" said DirexiaHawkes, hastily. "It's only the parrot.He is the worst-actin' good mornin',Mis' Pryor!"

She closed the door on a volley ofscreeches that was pouring from the

doorway.

Mrs. Pryor, rustling and crackling withindignation against the world ingeneral, made her way down the gardenpath. She was fumbling with the latchof the gate, when the door of theopposite house opened, and a largewoman came out and, hastening acrossthe road, met her with outstretchedhand.

"Do tell me if this isn't Mis' Pryor!"said the large women, cordially. "I feltsure it must be you; I heard you was intown. You haven't forgotten Mis'Weight, Malviny Askem as was Well, Iam pleased to see you. Walk in, won't

you now do! Why, you are a stranger!Step right in this way!"

Nothing loth, Mrs. Pryor stepped in,and was ushered into the sitting-room.

"Deacon, here's an old friend, if I maypresume to say so; Mis' Pryor, MissMaria Darracott as was. You'll berejoiced, well I know. Isick and AnnieLizzie, come here this minute andshake hands! Your right hand, AnnieLizzie, and take your finger out of yourmouth, or I'll sl I shall have to speak toyou. Let me take your bunnet, Maria,mayn't I "

Deacon Weight heaved himself out of

his chair, and received the visitor withponderous cordiality. "It is a long timesince we have had the pleasure ofwelcoming you to Elmerton, Mrs.Pryor," he said. "Your family hassustained a great loss, ma'am, a greatloss. Miss Phoebe Blyth is universallylamented."

Yes, indeed, a sad loss, Mrs. Pryor said.She regretted deeply that she had notbeen able to be present at the last sadrites. She had been tenderly attached toher cousin, whom she had not seen fortwenty years.

"But I have come now," she said, "todevote myself to those who remain. My

cousin Vesta looks sadly ill andshrunken, really an old woman, and myaunt Mrs. Tree is seriously ill, I am told,unable even to see me until after thedoctor's visit. Very sad! At her age, ofcourse the slightest thing in the natureof a seizure would probably be fatal.Have you seen her recently, may I ask "

Deacon Weight crossed and uncrossedhis legs uneasily. Mrs. Weight bridled,and pursed her lips.

"We don't often see Mis' Tree to speakto," she said. "There's those you can beneighborly with, and there's those youcan't. Mis' Tree has never showed thewish to be neighborly, and I am not one

to put forth, neither is the deacon.Where we are wished for, we go, andthe reverse, we stay away. We do whatduty calls for, no more. I did see Mis'Tree at Phoebe's funeral," she added,"and she looked gashly then. I hopeshe is prepared, I reelly do. I knowPhoebe was real uneasy about her. Wemake her the subject of prayer, thedeacon and I, but that's all we can do;and I feel bound to say to you, Mis'Pryor, that in my opinion, your aunt'ssoul is in a more perilous way than herbody."

Mrs. Pryor seemed less concernedabout the condition of Mrs. Tree's soulthan might have been expected. She

asked many questions about the oldlady's manner of life, who came to thehouse, how she spent her time, etc. Mrs.Weight answered with eager volubility.She told how often the butcher came,and what costly delicacies he left; howfew and far between were what shemight call spiritooal visits; "for ourpastor is young, Mis' Pryor, and it's notto be expected that he could have thepower of exhortation to compare withthose who have labored in the vineyardthe len'th of time Deacon Weight has.Then, too, she has a way that rides himdown Mr. Bliss, I'm speakin' of andmakes him ready to talk about anytruck and dicker she likes. I see himcome out the other day, laughin' fit to

split; you'd never think he was aminister of the gospel. Not that Ishould wish to be understood as sayin'anything against Mr. Bliss; the youngare easily led, even the best of them.Isick, don't stand gappin' there! Shutyour mouth, and go finish your chores.And Annie Lizzie, you go and peelsome apples for mother. Yes, you can,just as well as not; don't answer me likethat! No, you don't want a cooky now,you ain't been up from breakfast morethan well, just one, then, and mind youpick out a small one! Mis' Pryor, Ididn't like to speak too plain beforethem innocents, but it's easy to see whyMis' Tree clings as she doos to thethings of this world. If I had the

outlook she has for the next, I shouldtremble in my bed, I should so."

Finally the visitor departed, promisingto come again soon. After a baffledglance at Mrs. Tree's house, whichshowed an uncompromising front ofclosed windows and muslin curtains,she made her way to the post-office,where for a stricken hour she harriedMr. Homer Hollopeter. She was hiscousin too, in the fifth or sixth degree,and as she cheerfully told him,Darracott blood was a bond, even tothe last drop of it. She questioned himas to his income, his housekeeping, hisreasons for remaining single, whichappeared to her insufficient, not to say

childish; she commented on his looks,the fashion of his dress (it was amanifest absurdity for a man of hisyears to wear a sky-blue neck-tie!), thedecorations of his office. She thought aportrait of the President, or GeorgeWashington, would be moreappropriate than those dingyengravings. Who were oh, Keats andShelley No one admired poetry morethan she did; she had read Keats's"Christian Year" only a short time ago;charming!

"And what is that landscape, CousinHomer Something foreign, evidently. Ialways think that a government officeshould be representative of the

government. I have a print at home, abird's-eye view of Washington in 1859,which I will send you if you like. Isuppose you have an express frank NoHow mean of Congress! What did yousay this mountain was "

Mr. Homer, who had received Mrs.Pryor's remarks in meekness and so faras might be in silence, waving his headand arms now and then in mutedissent, now looked up at themountain photograph; he opened andshut his mouth several times before hefound speech.

"The picture," he said, slowly,"represents a a mountain; a a in short, a

mountain!" and not another wordcould he be got to say about it.

Doctor Stedman had a long round togo that day, and it was not till lateafternoon that he reached home andfound a message from Mrs. Tree sayingthat she wished to see him. Hehastened to the house; Direxia, whohad evidently been watching for him,opened the door almost before heknocked.

"Nothing serious, I trust, Direxia!" heasked, anxiously. "I have been out oftown, and am only just back."

"Hush!" whispered Direxia, with a

glance toward the parlor door. "I don'tknow; I can't make out "

"Come in, James Stedman!" called Mrs.Tree from the parlor. "Don't stand theregossiping with Direxia; I didn't sendfor you to see her."

Direxia lifted her hands and eyes withan eloquent gesture. "She is the beat ofall!" she murmured, and fled to herkitchen.

Entering the parlor Doctor Stedmanfound Mrs. Tree sitting by the fire asusual, with her feet on the fender.Sitting, but not attired, as usual. Shewas dressed, or rather enveloped, in a

vast quilted wrapper of flowered satin,tulips and poppies on a pale buffground, and her head was surmountedby the most astonishing nightcap thatever the mind of woman devised. Soample and manifold were its flappingborders, and so small the keen brownface under them, that Doctor Stedman,though not an imaginative person,could think of nothing but a walnut setin the centre of a cauliflower.

"Good afternoon, James Stedman!"said the old lady. "I am sick, you see."

"I see, Mrs. Tree," said the doctor,glancing from the wrapper and cap tothe bowl and spoon that stood on the

violet-wood table. He had seen thesethings before. "You don't feel seriouslyout of trim, I hope "

Mrs. Tree fixed him with a bright blackeye.

"At my age, James, everything isserious," she said, gravely. "You knowthat as well as I do."

"Yes, I know that!" said DoctorStedman. He laid his hand on her wristfor a moment, then returned her lookwith one as keen as her own.

"Have you any symptoms for me "

"I thought that was your business!" saidthe patient.

"Hum!" said Doctor Stedman. "Howlong, have you been a feeling like this "

"Ever since yesterday; no, the daybefore. I am excessively nervous, James.I am unfit to talk, utterly unfit; I cannotsee people. I want you to keep peopleaway from me for for some days. Youmust see that I am unfit to seeanybody!"

"Ha!" said Doctor Stedman.

"It agitates me!" cried the old lady. "Atmy age I cannot afford to be agitated.

Have some orange cordial, James; do! itis in the Moorish cabinet there, theright-hand cupboard. Yes, you maybring two glasses if you like; I feel asinking. You see that I am in nocondition for visitors."

The corners of Doctor Stedman's graybeard twitched; but he poured a smallportion of the cordial into two fat littlegilt tumblers, and handed one gravelyto his patient.

"Perhaps this is as good medicine asyou can take!" he said. "Delicious! Doesthe secret of this die with Direxia But

I'll put you up some powders, Mrs.Tree, for the a nervousness; and Icertainly think it would be a good planfor you to keep very quiet for awhile."

"I'll see no one!" cried the old lady."Not even Vesta, James!"

"Hum!" said Doctor Stedman. "Well, ifyou say so, not even Vesta."

"Vesta is so literal, you see!" said Mrs.Tree, comfortably. "Then that is settled;and you will give your orders toDirexia. I am utterly unfit to talk, andyou forbid me to see anybody. How doyou think Vesta is looking, James "

Doctor Stedman's eyes, which had beentwinkling merrily under his shaggyeyebrows, grew suddenly grave.

"Badly!" he said, briefly. "Worn, tiredalmost sick. She ought to have absoluterest, mind, body, and soul, and, insteadof that, here comes this "

"Catamaran " suggested Mrs. Tree,blandly.

"You know her better than I do," saidJames Stedman. "Here she comes, at anyrate, and settles down on Vesta, andannounces that she has come to stay. Itought not to be allowed. Mrs. Tree, Iwant Vesta to go away; she is unfit for

visitors, if you will. I want her to gooff somewhere for an entire change.Can it not be managed in some way "

"Why don't you take her " said Mrs.Tree.

The slow red crept into JamesStedman's strong, kindly face. He madeno reply at first, but sat looking into thefire, while the old woman watched him.

At last "You asked me that once before,Mrs. Tree," he said, with an effort;"how many years ago was it Nevermind! I can only make the same answerthat I made then. She will not come."

"Have you tried again, James "

"Yes, I have tried again, or tried to try. Iwill not persecute her; I told you thatbefore."

"Has the little idiot has she any reasonto give "

Doctor Stedman gave a short laugh."She doesn't wish it; isn't that reasonenough I said something about herbeing alone; I couldn't help it, shelooked so little, and but she feels thatshe will never be alone so long as thatis, she feels that she has all thecompanionship she needs."

"So long as what So long as I am alive,hey " said the old lady. Her eyes werelike sparks of black fire, but JamesStedman would not meet them. Hestared moodily before him, and madeno reply.

"I am a meddlesome old woman!" saidMrs. Tree. "You wish I would leave youalone, James Stedman, and so I will.Old women ought to be strangled;there's some place where they do it,Cap'n Tree told me about it once; Isuppose it's because they talk toomuch. She said she shouldn't be alonewhile I lived, hey Where are you going,James Stay and have supper with me;do! it would be a charity; and there's a

larded partridge with bread sauce.Direxia's bread sauce is the best in theworld, you know that."

"Yes, I know!" said Doctor Stedman,his eyes twinkling once more as he tookup his hat. "I wish I could stay, but Ihave still one or two calls to make. Butlarded partridge, Mrs. Tree, in yourcondition! I am surprised at you. Iwould recommend a cup of gruel anda slice of thin toast without butter."

"Cat's foot!" said Mrs. Tree. "Well,good-night, James; and don't forget theorders to Direxia: I am utterly unfit totalk and must not see any one."

CHAPTER XVII.

NOT YET!

How it happened that, in spite of thestrict interdict laid upon all visitors atMrs. Tree's house, Tommy Candyfound his way in, nobody knows tothis day. Direxia Hawkes found him inthe front entry one afternoon, andpounced upon him with fury. The boyshowed every sign of guilt and terror,but refused to say why he had come orwhat he wanted. As he was hustled outof the door a voice from above washeard to cry, "The ivory elephant for

your own, mind, and a box of the kindwith nuts in it!" Sometimes Jocko couldimitate his mistress's voice toperfection.

Mrs. Weight, whom the news of Mrs.Tree's actual illness had wrought to afever-pitch of observation, saw the boycome out, and carried the word at onceto Mrs. Pryor; in ten minutes that ladywas at the door clamoring for entrance.Direxia, her apron at her eyes, was firm,but evidently in distress.

"She's took to her bed!" she said. "Idarsn't let you in; it'd be as much as mylife is wuth and her'n too, the state she'sin. I think she's out of her head, Mis'

Pryor. There! she's singin' this minute;do hear her! Oh, my poor lady! I wishDoctor Stedman would come!"

Over the stairs came floating, in a high-pitched thread of voice, a scrap ofeldritch song:

"Tiddy hi, toddy ho, Tiddy hi hum,Thus was it when Barbara Popkins wasyoung!"

Mrs. Pryor hastened back and told MissVesta that their aunt was delirious, andhad probably but a few hours to live.Poor Miss Vesta! she would havebroken through any interdict and flownto her aunt's side; but she herself was

housed with a heavy, feverish cold, andDoctor Stedman's commands wereabsolute. "You may say what you like toyour friend," he said, "but you mustobey your physician. I know what I amabout, and I forbid you to leave thehouse!"

At these words Miss Vesta leaned backon her sofa-pillow with a gentle sigh.James did know what he was about, ofcourse; and since he had privatelyassured her that he did not considerMrs. Tree in any danger, and since shereally felt quite unable to stand, muchless to go out it was very comfortableto be absolutely forbidden to do so.Still it was not a pleasant day for Miss

Vesta. Mrs. Pryor never left her side,declaring that this duty at least she couldand would perform, and Vesta might beassured she would never desert her; andthe stream of talk about the Darracottblood, the family portraits, and theastonishing moral obliquity of mostpersons except Mrs. Pryor herself,flowed on and around and over MissVesta's aching head till she felt that shewas floating away on waves of thefluid which is thicker than water.

In the afternoon a bolt fell. It wasabout five o'clock, near the time forDoctor Stedman's daily visit, when thedoor flew open without knock or ring,and Tragedy appeared on the threshold

in the person of Mrs. Malvina Weight.Speechless, she stood in the doorwayand beckoned. She had been running, amethod of locomotion for whichnature had not intended her; her breathcame in quick gasps, and her face wasas the face of a Savoy cabbage.

"For pity's sake!" cried Mrs. Pryor."What is the matter, Malvina "

"She's gone!" gasped Mrs. Weight.

"Who's gone Do speak up! What doyou mean, Malvina Weight "

"Mis' Tree! there's crape on the door. Isee it three minutes ago with these eyes!

I run all the way just as I was; I've gotmy death, I expect palpitations I had tocome. She's gone in her sins! Oh, girls,ain't it awful "

Miss Vesta, pale and trembling, tried torise, but fell back on the sofa.

"James!" she said, faintly; "where isJames Stedman "

"Stay where you are, Vesta Blyth!" criedMrs. Pryor. "I will send for DoctorStedman; I will attend to everything. Iam going to the house myself thisinstant. Here, Diploma! come and takecare of your mistress! cologne, salts,whatever you have. I must fly!"

And as a hen flies, fluttering andcackling, so did Mrs. Pryor flutter andcackle, up the street, with Mrs. Weight,still breathless, pounding and gaspingin her wake.

"For the land's sake, what is the matter" asked Diploma Crotty, appearing inthe parlor doorway with a flushedcheek and floury hands. "Miss Vesty, Igive you to understand that I ain't goin'to be called from my bread by no mydear heart alive! what has happened "

Miss Vesta put her hand to her throat.

"My aunt, Diploma!" she whispered.

"She Mrs. Weight says there is crape onthe door. I I seem to have lost mystrength. Oh, where is Doctor Stedman"

A brown, horrified face looked for aninstant over Diploma's shoulder; theface of Direxia Hawkes, who had comein search of something her mistresswanted, leaving the second maid incharge of her patient; it vanished, andanother figure scurried up the street,breathless with fear and wonder.

"You lay down, Miss Vesty!"commanded Diploma. "Lay down thisminute, that's a good girl. Whoever'sdead, you ain't, and I don't want you

should. There! Here comes DoctorStedman this minute. I'll run and lethim in. Oh, Doctor Stedman, it ain'ttrue, is it "

"Probably not," said Doctor Stedman."What is it "

"Ain't you been at Mis' Tree's "

"No, I am going there now. I have beenout in the country. What is the matter "

"James!" cried Miss Vesta's voice.

The sound of it struck the physician'sear; he looked at Diploma.

"What has happened "

"Go in! go in and see her!" whisperedthe old woman. "They say Mis' Tree'sdead; I dono; but go in, do, there's agood soul!"

"Oh, James!" cried Miss Vesta, and sheheld out both hands, trembling withfever and distress. "I am so glad youhave come. James! Aunt Marcia is dead;there is crape on her door. Did youknow Were you with her Oh, James, Iam all alone now. I am all alone in theworld!"

"Never, while I am alive!" said JamesStedman, catching the little trembling

hands in his. "Look up, Vesta! Cheerup, my dear! You can never be alonewhile I am in the same world with you.If your aunt is indeed dead, then youbelong to me, Vesta; why, you knowyou do, you foolish little woman.There! there! stop trembling. My dear,did you think I would let you be reallyalone for five minutes "

"Oh, James!" cried Miss Vesta."Consider our age! Sister Phoebe "

"I do consider our age," said DoctorStedman. "It is just what I consider. Wehave no more time to waste. AndPhoebe is not here. Here, drink this, mydear love! Now let me tuck you up

again while I go and see what all this isabout. Who told you Mrs. Tree wasdead She was alive enough thismorning."

"Mrs. Weight. She saw the crape on thedoor, and came straight here to tell us.It was thoughtful, James, but sosudden, and you were not here. Mariahas gone up there now. Oh, my poorAunt Marcia!"

"Hum!" said Doctor Stedman. "Mrs.Weight and Mrs. Pryor, eh A preciouspair! Well, I will soon find out the truthand let you know. Good-by, littlewoman!"

"Oh, James!" said Miss Vesta, "do youreally think "

"I don't think, I know!" said JamesStedman. "Good-by, my Vesta!"

Sure enough, there was crape on thedoor of Mrs. Tree's house a long rustystreamer. It hung motionless in thequiet evening air, eloquent of manythings.

The door itself was unlocked, and Mrs.Pryor tumbled in headlong, with Mrs.Weight at her heels. Both women weretoo breathless to speak. They rushedinto the parlor, and stood there, literallymopping and mowing at each other,

handkerchief in hand.

Something about the air of the littleroom seemed to arrest the frenziedrush of their curiosity. Yet all was asusual: the dim, antique richness, thewarm scent of the fragrant woods, theliving presence was it the only presenceof the fire on the hearth. Even whenthe two had recovered their breath,neither spoke for some minutes, and itwas only when a brand broke and fellforward in tinkling red coals on themarble hearth that Mrs. Pryor foundher voice.

"I declare, Malvina, I feel as if therewere some one in this room. I never

was in it without Aunt Marcia, and itseems as if she must come in thisminute."

"Pretty smart, to be able to sit andstand up at once, at my age, Direxia!"replied Mrs. Tree, composedly. "Tommyis a naughty boy, certainly, but I shallnot prosecute him this time. You oldgoose, I told him to do it!"

"You oh, my Solemn Deliverance! she'sgone clean out of her wits this time,and there's an end of it. Oh! mygracious, Mis' Tree if the Lord ain'tgood, and sent Doctor Stedman justthis minute of time! Oh, DoctorStedman, I'm glad you've come. She's

settin' here in her cheer, ravin'distracted."

"How do you do, James " said Mrs.Tree. "I am quite in my senses, thankyou, and I mean to live to a hundred."

"My dear old friend," cried JamesStedman, taking the tiny witheredhands in his and kissing them, "I wishyou might live for ever; but I can neverthank you enough for having beendead for half an hour. It has made methe happiest man in the world. I amgoing to tell Vesta this moment. It isnever too late to be happy, is it, Mrs.Tree Mayn't I say 'Aunt Tree' now "

"It's all right, is it " said Mrs. Tree. "I amglad to hear it. Vesta has not muchsense, James, but then, I never thoughtyou had too much, and she is as goodas gold. I wish you both joy, and I shallcome to the wedding. Now, DirexiaHawkes, what are you crying about, Ishould like to know Doctor Stedmanand Miss Vesta are going to be married,and high time, too. Is that anything tocry about "

"She is the beat of all!" cried DirexiaHawkes, through her tears, which shewas wiping recklessly with a valuablelace tidy.

"Fust she was dead and then she

warn't, and then she was crazy and nowshe ain't, and I can't stand no more. I'mclean tuckered out!"

"Cat's foot!" said Mrs. Tree.

THE END.