[Illustration: MRS. TREE. ]

MRS. TREE

ByLaura E. Richards

_Author of_"Captain January, " "Melody, " "Marie, " etc. 

BostonDana Estes & CompanyPublishers

_Copyright, 1902_BY DANA ESTES & COMPANY

_All rights reserved_

MRS. TREEPublished June, 1902

Colonial PressElectrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. Boston, Mass. , U. S. A. 

ToMy Daughter Rosalind

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. Wedding Bells 11

II. Phoebe's Opinions 25

III. Introducing Tommy Candy and Solomon, his Grandfather 41

IV. Old Friends 55

V. "But When He Was Yet a Great Way off" 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 He Brought 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 clawed it without ceremony" 119

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

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

MRS. TREE

CHAPTER I. 

WEDDING BELLS

"Well, they're gone!" said Direxia Hawkes. 

"H'm!" said Mrs. Tree. 

Direxia had been to market, and, it was to be supposed, had broughthome, beside the chops and the soup-piece, all the information thevillage afforded. She had now, after putting away her austere littlebonnet and cape, brought a china basin, and a mystic assortment of whitecloths, and was polishing the window-panes, which did not needpolishing. From time to time she glanced at her mistress, who sat boltupright in her chair, engaged on a severe-looking piece of knitting. Mrs. Tree detested knitting, and it was always a bad sign when she putaway her book and took up the needles. 

"Yes'm; they're gone. I see 'em go. Ithuriel Butters drove 'em over tothe Junction; come in yesterday o' purpose, and put up his team atDoctor Stedman's. Ithuriel thinks a sight of Doctor Strong. Yes'm; folkswas real concerned to see him go, and her too. They made a handsomecouple, if they be both light-complected. "

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

"I was cleanin' it. "

"I'm glad to hear it. I never should have supposed so from looking atit. Perhaps you'd better let it alone. "

"You're a terrible tedious woman to live with, Mis' Tree!" saidDirexia. 

"You're welcome to go any minute, " replied Mrs. Tree. 

"Yes'm, " said Direxia. "What kind of sauce would you like for tea?"

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

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

"He sent a message to you, last thing before he drove off. He wanted Ishould tell you--what's this now he said? 'Tell her to keep on growingyoung till I come 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. Treewas over ninety, but apart from an amazing reticulation of wrinkles, netted fine and close as a brown veil, she showed little sign of hergreat age. As she herself said, she had her teeth and her wits, and shedid not see what more any one wanted. In her morning gown of whitedimity, with folds of soft net about her throat, and a turban of thesame material on her head, she was a pleasant and picturesque figure. For the afternoon she affected satin, either plum-colored, or of thecinnamon shade in which some of my readers may have seen her elsewhere, with slippers to match, and a cap suggesting the Corinthian order. Inthis array, majesty replaced picturesqueness, and there were those inElmerton who quailed at the very thought of this tiny old woman, uprightin her ebony chair, with the acanthus-leaf in finest Brussels noddingover her brows. The last touch of severity was added when Mrs. Tree wasfound knitting, as on the present occasion. 

"Ithuriel Butters is a sing'lar man!" Direxia went on, investigatingwith exquisite nicety the corner of a pane. "He gave me a turn just now, he did so. "

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

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

"'What do you mean, Ithuriel Butters?' I says. 

"'Just what I say, ' says he. 

"'Why, where is she?' I says. I thought she might be visitin', you know. She has consid'able kin round here. 

"'I ain't no idee, ' says he. 'I left her in the bur'in'-ground, that'sall I know. '

"Mis' Tree, that woman has been dead a month, and I never knew the firstword about it. They're all sing'lar people, them Butterses. She was aproper nice woman, though, this Mis' Butters. He had hopes of Di-plomyone spell, after his last died--_she_ was a reg'lar fire-skull; hedidn't have much peace while she lived--died in a tantrum too, they say;scol't so hard she bust a vessel, and it run all through her, and car'dher off--but Di-plomy couldn't seem to change her state, no more'n MissPhoebe 'n' Vesty. 

"My sakes! if there ain't Miss Vesty comin' now. I'll hasten and putaway these things, Mis' Tree, and be back to let her in. "

Miss Vesta Blyth came soberly along the street and up the garden path. She was a quaint and pleasant picture, in her gown of gray and whitefoulard, with her little black silk mantle and bonnet. Some thirty yearsago Miss Vesta and her sister Miss Phoebe had decided that fashion wasa snare; and since then they had always had their clothes made on thesame model, to the despair of Prudence Pardon, the dressmaker. 

But when one looked at Vesta Blyth's face, one was not apt to thinkabout her clothes; one rather thought, what a pity one must look awayfrom her presently! At least, that was what Geoffrey Strong used to say, a young man who loved Miss Vesta, and who was now gone away with hisyoung wife, leaving sore hearts behind. 

Direxia Hawkes came out on the porch to meet the visitor, closing thedoor behind her for an instant. 

"I'm terrible glad you've come, " she said. "She's lookin' for you, too, I expect, though she won't say a word. There! she's fairly rusted withgrief. It'll do her good to have somebody new to chaw on; she's beenchawin' on me till she's tired, and she's welcome to. "

"Yes, Direxia, I know; you are most faithful and patient, " said MissVesta, gently. "You know we all appreciate it, don't you, my goodDirexia? I have brought a little sweetbread for Aunt Marcia's supper. Diploma cooked it the way she likes it, with a little cream, and just aspoonful of white wine. There! now I will go in. Thank you, Direxia. "

"Dear Aunt Marcia, " the little lady said as she entered the room, "howdo 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 you mean? The plague! Surely you musthave mistaken the symptoms. That terrible disease is happily, I think, restricted to--"

"I've got twenty plagues!" exclaimed the old lady. "First there'sDirexia Hawkes, who torments my life out all day long; and then you, Vesta, who might know better, coming every day and asking how I am. Howshould I be? Have you ever known me to be anything but perfectly wellsince you were born?"

"No, dear Aunt Marcia, I am thankful to say I have not. It is such asingular blessing, that you have this wonderful health. "

"Well, then, why can't you let my health alone? When it fails, I'll letyou know. "

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

"Bah!" said Mrs. Tree. "You are a good girl, Vesta, but you wouldexasperate a saint. I am not a saint. "

Miss Vesta, too polite to assent to this statement, and too truthful tocontradict it, gazed mildly at her aunt, and was silent. 

Mrs. Tree, after five minutes of vengeful knitting, rolled up her workdeliberately, stabbed it through with the needles, and tossed it acrossthe room. 

"Well!" she said, "have you anything else to say, Vesta? I am cross, butI am not hungry, and if I were I would not eat you. Tell me something, can't you? Isn't there any gossip in this tiresome place?"

"Oh, Aunt Marcia, I cannot think of anything but our dear children, Geoffrey and Vesta. We have just seen them off, you know. Indeed, I cameon purpose to tell you about their departure, but you seemed--AuntMarcia, they were sad at going, I truly think they were. It was herethey first met, and found their young happiness--the Lord preserve themin it all their lives long!--there were tears in Little Vesta's eyes, dear child! but still, they are going to their own home, and of coursethey were full of joy too. Oh, Aunt Marcia, I must say, dear Geoffreylooked like a prince as he handed his bride into the carriage. "

"Was he in red velvet and feathers?" asked Mrs. Tree. "It wouldn'tsurprise me in the least. "

"Oh, no, dear Aunt Marcia! Nothing, I assure you, gaudy or striking, inthe very least. He wore the ordinary dress of a gentleman, notconspicuous in any way. It was his air I meant, and the look of--ofpride and joy and youth--ah! it was very beautiful. Vesta was beautifultoo; you saw her travelling-dress, Aunt Marcia. Did you not think itcharming?"

"The child looked well enough, " said Mrs. Tree. "Lord knows what sort ofwife she'll make, with her head stuffed full of all kinds of notions, but she looks well, and she means well. I gave her my diamonds; did shetell you that?"

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

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

"Oh! surely not, dear Aunt Marcia. I was only thinking--Maria mightfeel, with her two daughters, that there should have been somedivision--"

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

"Dear Aunt Marcia! what a singular question!"

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

"Surely not! I have rarely seen you looking more robust. "

"Very well! When I _am_ dead, you may talk to me about Maria and her twodaughters; I sha'n't mind it then. What else have you got to say? I amgoing to take my nap soon, so if you have anything more, out with it!"

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

"Doctor Stedman came to see the children off. I think he is almost assorry to lose Geoffrey as we are. It is a real pleasure to see himlooking so well and vigorous. He really looks like a young man. "

"Don't speak to me of James Stedman!" exclaimed Mrs. Tree. "I neverwish to hear his name again. "

"Aunt Marcia! dear James Stedman! Our old and valued friend!"

"Old and valued fiddlestick! Who wanted him to come back? Why couldn'the stay where he was, and poison the foreigners? He might have been ofsome use there. "

Miss Vesta looked distressed. 

"Aunt Marcia, " she said, gently, "I cannot feel as if I ought to leteven you speak slightingly of Doctor Stedman. Of course we all feeldeeply the loss of dear Geoffrey; I am sure no one can feel it moredeeply than Phoebe and I do. The house is so empty without him; hekept it full of sunshine and joy. But that should not make us forgetfulof Doctor Stedman's life-long devotion and--"

"Speaking of devotion, " said Mrs. Tree, "has he asked you to marry himyet? How many times does that make?"

Miss Vesta went very pink, and rose from her seat with a gentle dignitywhich was her nearest approach to anger. 

"I think I will leave you now, Aunt Marcia, " she said. "I will comeagain to-morrow, when you are more composed. Good-by. "

"Yes, run along!" said Mrs. Tree, and her voice softened a little. "Idon't want you to-day, Vesta, that's the truth. Send me Phoebe, orMalvina Weight. I want something to 'chaw on, ' as Direxia said justnow. "

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

"I never hear anything else!" said the old lady. "Go away, both of you, and let me hear myself think. "

CHAPTER II. 

MISS PHOEBE'S OPINIONS

"I cannot see that your aunt looks a day older than she did twenty yearsago, " said Dr. James Stedman. 

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

"You have called on her, then, James, " she said. "I am truly glad. Howdid she--that is, I am sure she was rejoiced to see you, as every one inthe village is. "

Doctor Stedman chuckled, and pulled his handsome gray beard. "She mayhave been rejoiced, " he said; "I trust she was. She said first that shehoped I had come back wiser than I went, and when I replied that I hopedI had learned a little, she said she could not abide new-fanglednotions, and that if I expected to try any experiments on her I wouldfind myself mistaken. Yes, I find her quite unchanged, and whollydelightful. What amazing vigor! I am too old for her, that's thetrouble. Young Strong is far more her contemporary than I am. Why, sheis as much interested in every aspect of life as any boy in the village. Before I left I had told her all that I knew, and a good deal that Ididn't. "

"It is greatly to be regretted, " said Miss Phoebe Blyth, pausing in anintricate part of her knitting, and looking over her glasses with mildseverity, "it is greatly to be regretted that Aunt Marcia occupiesherself so largely with things temporal. At her advanced age, her acuteinterest in--one, two, three, purl--in worldly matters, appears to melamentable. "

"I often think, Sister Phoebe, " said Miss Vesta, timidly, "that it isher interest in little things that keeps Aunt Marcia so wonderfullyyoung. "

"My dear Vesta, " replied Miss Phoebe, impressively, "at ninety-one, with eternity, if I may use the expression, sitting in the next room, the question is whether any assumption of youthfulness is desirable. Formy own part, I cannot feel that it is. I said something of the sort toAunt Marcia the other day, and she replied that she was having all theeternity she desired at that moment. The expression shocked me, I ambound to say. "

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

"My dear Vesta, if she does not mean what she says at her age, thequestion is, when will she mean it?"

After a majestic pause, Miss Phoebe continued, glancing at her otherhearers:

"I should be the last, the very last, to reflect upon my mother'ssister in general conversation; but Doctor Stedman being our familyphysician as well as our lifelong friend, and Cousin Homer one of thefamily, I may without impropriety, I trust, dwell on a point whichdistresses me in our venerable relation. Aunt Marcia is--I grieve to usea harsh expression--frivolous. "

Mr. Homer Hollopeter, responding to Miss Phoebe's glance, cleared histhroat and straightened his long back. He was a little gentleman, andmost of what height he had was from the waist upward; his general aspectwas one of waviness. His hair was long and wavy; so was his nose, andhis throat, and his shirt-collar. In his youth some one had told himthat he resembled Keats. This utterance, taken with the name bestowed onhim by an ambitious mother with literary tastes, had colored his wholelife. He was assistant in the post-office, and lived largely on theimaginary romance of the letters which passed through his hands; healso played the flute, wrote verses, and admired his cousin Phoebe. 

"I have often thought it a pity, " said Mr. Homer, "that Cousin Marciashould not apply herself more to literary pursuits. "

"I don't know what you mean by literary pursuits, Homer, " said DoctorStedman, rather gruffly. "I found her the other day reading Johnson'sDictionary by candlelight, without glasses. I thought that was doingpretty well for ninety-one. "

"I--a--was thinking more about other branches of literature, " Mr. Homeradmitted. "The Muse, James, the Muse! Cousin Marcia takes littleinterest in poetry. If she could sprinkle the--a--pathway to the tombwith blossoms of poesy, it would be"--he waved his hands gentlyabroad--"smoother; less rough; more devoid of irregularities. "

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

"Certainly, Cousin Phoebe. I beg your pardon. "

It was one of Miss Phoebe's crosses that Mr. Homer would always sit inthis particular chair, and would rock; the more so that when not engagedin conversation he was apt to open and shut his mouth in unison with themotion of the rockers. Miss Phoebe disapproved of rocking-chairs, andwould gladly have banished this one, had it not belonged to her mother. 

"I have occasionally offered to read to Cousin Marcia, " Mr. Homercontinued, "from the works of Keats and--other bards; but she hasuniformly received the suggestion in a spirit of--mockery; of--derision;of--contumely. The last time I mentioned it, she exclaimed 'Cat's foot!'The expression struck me, I confess, as--strange; as--singular;as--extraordinary. "

"It is an old-fashioned expression, Cousin Homer, " Miss Vesta put in, gently. "I have heard our Grandmother Darracott use it, SisterPhoebe. "

"There's nothing improper in it, is there?" said Doctor Stedman. 

"Really, my dear James, " said Miss Phoebe, bending a literally awfulbrow on her guest, "I trust not. Do you mean to imply that theconversation of gentlewomen of my aunt's age is apt to be improper?"

"No, no, " said Doctor Stedman, easily. "It only seemed to me that youwere making a good deal of Mrs. Tree's little eccentricities. But, Phoebe, you said something a few minutes ago that I was very glad tohear. It is pleasant to know that I am still your family physician. Thatyoung fellow who went off the other day seems to have taken every heartin the village in his pocket. A young rascal!"

Miss Phoebe colored and drew herself up. 

"Sister Phoebe, " Miss Vesta breathed rather than spoke, "James is injest. He has the highest opinion of--"

"Vesta, I _think_ I have my senses, " said Miss Phoebe, kindly. "I haveheard James use exaggerated language before. Candor compels me to admit, James, that I have benefited greatly by the advice and prescriptions ofDoctor Strong; also that, though deploring certain aspects of hisconduct while under our roof--I will say no more, having reconciledmyself entirely to the outcome of the matter--we have become deeplyattached to him. He is"--Miss Phoebe's voice quavered slightly--"he isa chosen spirit. "

"Dear Geoffrey!" murmured Miss Vesta. 

"But in spite of this, " Miss Phoebe continued, graciously, "we feelthe ties of ancient friendship as strongly as ever, James, and mustalways value you highly, whether as physician or as friend. "

"Yes, indeed, dear James, " said Miss Vesta, softly. 

Doctor Stedman rose from his seat. His eyes were very tender as helooked at the sisters from under his shaggy eyebrows. 

"Good girls!" he said. "I couldn't afford to lose my best--patients. " Hestraightened his broad shoulders and looked round the room. "When I sawanything new over there, " he said, "castle or picture-gallery orcathedral, --whatever it was, --I always compared it with this room, andit never stood the comparison for an instant. Pleasantest place in theworld, to my thinking. "

Miss Phoebe beamed over her spectacles. "You pay us a high compliment, James, " she said. "It is pleasant indeed to feel that home still seemsbest to you. I confess that, great as are the treasures of art, andmagnificent as are the monuments in the cities of Europe, I have alwaysfelt that as places of residence they would not compare favorably withElmerton. "

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

"The cities of Europe, " Mr. Homer observed, "can hardly be suited, asplaces of residence, to--a--persons of literary taste. There is"--hewaved his hands--"too much noise; too much--sound; too much--absence oftranquillity. I could wish, though, to have 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 theoffice to-morrow. I went to the burying-ground on purpose. "

"Did you so?" exclaimed Mr. Homer, his mild face growing radiant withpleasure. "That was kind, James; that was--friendly; thatwas--benevolent! I shall value it highly, highly. I thank you, James. I--since you are interested in the lamented Keats, perhaps you wouldlike"--his hand went with a fluttering motion to his pocket. 

"I must go now, " said Doctor Stedman, hastily. "I've stayed too longalready, but I never know how to get away from this house. Good night, Phoebe! Good night, Vesta! You are looking a little tired; take careof yourself. 'Night, Homer; see you to-morrow!"

He shook hands heartily all around and was gone. 

Mr. Homer sighed gently. "It is a great pity, " he said, "with hisexcellent disposition, that James will never interest himself inliterary pursuits. "

His hand was still fluttering about his pocket, and there was anunspoken appeal in his mild brown eyes. 

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

Mr. Homer with alacrity drew a folded paper from his pocket. 

"This is--you may be aware, Cousin Phoebe--the anniversary of thebirth of the lamented Keats. I always like to pay some tribute to hismemory on these occasions, and I have here a slight thing--I tossed itoff after breakfast this morning--which I confess I should like to readto you. You know how highly I value your opinion, Cousin Phoebe, andsome criticism may suggest itself to you, though I trust that in themain--but you shall judge for yourself. "

He cleared his throat, adjusted his spectacles, and began:

"Thoughts suggested by the Anniversary of the Natal Day of the poetKeats. "

"Could you find it convenient not to rock, Cousin Homer?" said MissPhoebe. 

"By all means, Cousin Phoebe. I beg your pardon. 'Thoughts'--but Ineed not repeat the title. 

 "I asked the Muse if she had one Thrice-favored son, Or if some one poetic brother Appealed to her more than another. She gazed on me with aspect high, And tear in eye, While musically she repeats, 'Keats!'

 "She gave me then to understand, And smilèd bland, On Helicon the sacred Nine 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 of the poem. Mr. Homer, slightlyflushed with his own emotions, gazed eagerly at Miss Phoebe, who satvery erect, the tips of her fingers pressed together, her whole air thatof a judge about to give sentence. Miss Vesta looked somewhat disturbed, 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 you ask for criticism, I feel bound togive it. You speak of the 'sacred' Nine. The word sacred appears to meto belong distinctly to religious matters; I cannot think that it shouldbe employed in speaking of pagan divinities. The expression--I am sorryto speak strongly--shocks me!"

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

"It is an expression that is frequently used, Cousin Phoebe, " hesaid. "All the poets make use of it, I assure you. "

"I do not doubt it in the least, " said Miss Phoebe. "The poets--with afew notable exceptions--are apt to be deplorably lax in such matters. Ifyou would confine your reading of poetry, Cousin Homer, to the works ofsuch poets as Mrs. Hemans, Archbishop Trench, and the saintly Keble, youwould not incur the danger of being led away into unsuitable vagaries. "

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

"Cousin Homer, I have already intimated to you, on several occasions, that I cannot discuss the poet Keats with you. I am aware that he isconsidered an eminent poet, but I have not reached my present agewithout realizing that many works may commend themselves to even themost refined of the masculine sex which are wholly unsuitable forladies. We will change the subject, if you please; but before doing so, let me earnestly entreat you to remove the word 'sacred' from yourpoem. "

CHAPTER III. 

INTRODUCING TOMMY CANDY AND SOLOMON, HIS GRANDFATHER

"Here's that boy again!" said Direxia Hawkes. 

"What boy?" asked Mrs. Tree; but her eyes brightened as she spoke, andshe laid down her book with an expectant air. 

"Tommy Candy. I told him I guessed you couldn't be bothered with him, but he's there. "

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

The boy advanced slowly, but not unwillingly. He was an odd-lookingchild, with spiky black hair, a mouth like a circus clown, and gray eyesthat twinkled almost as brightly as Mrs. Tree's own. 

The gray eyes and the black exchanged a look of mutual comprehension. "How do you do, Thomas Candy?" said Mrs. Tree, formally, holding out herlittle hand in its white lace mitt. It was afternoon, and she wasdressed to receive callers. 

"Shake hands as if you meant it, boy! I said _shake hands_, not flapflippers; you are not a seal. There! that's better. How do 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 it were one word, Master Candy drewa long breath, and said in a different tone, "I came to see the bird andhear 'bout Grampy; can I?"

"_May_ I, not _can_ I, Tommy Candy! You mayn't see the bird; he's havinghis nap, and doesn't like to be disturbed; but you may hear about yourgrandfather. Sit down on the stool there. Open the drawer, and see ifthere is anything in it. "

The boy obeyed with alacrity. The drawer (it belonged to a sandalwoodtable, inlaid with chess-squares of pearl and malachite), being opened, proved to contain burnt almonds in an ivory box, and a silver saucerfull of cubes of fig-paste, red and white. Tommy Candy seemed to findwords unequal to the situation; he gave Mrs. Tree an eloquent glance, then obeyed her nod and helped himself 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 last time. "

There was a silence of perfect peace on one side, of reflection on theother. 

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

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

"Nobody in the village had any peace of their lives, " the old lady wenton, "on account of that boy and my brother Tom. We went to schooltogether, in the little red schoolhouse that used to stand where theacademy is now. We were always friends, Solomon and I, and he neverplayed tricks on me, more than tying my pigtail to the back of thebench, and the like of that; but woe betide those that he didn't take afancy to. I can hear Sally Andrews now, when she found the frog in herdesk. It jumped right into her face, and fell into her apron-pocket, --wewore aprons with big pockets then, --and she screamed so she had to betaken home. That was the kind of prank Solomon was up to, every day ofhis life; and fishing for schoolmaster's wig through the skylight, andevery crinkum-crankum that ever was. Master Bayley used to go to sleepevery recess, and the skylight was just over his head. Dear me, Sirs, how that wig did look, sailing up into the air!"

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

"Isaac Weight? That's the deacon's eldest brat, isn't it?"

"Yes'm!"

"His grandfather was named Isaac, too, " said Mrs. Tree. "This one isnamed for him, I suppose. Isaac Weight--the first one--was calledSquash-nose at school, I remember. He wasn't popular, and I understandEphraim, his son, wasn't either. They called _him_ Meal-bag, and helooked it. Te-hee!" she laughed, a little dry keckle, like the click ofcastanets. "Did ever I tell you the trick your grandfather and mybrother played on old Elder Weight and Squire Tree? That wasgreat-grandfather to this present Weight boy, and uncle to my husband. The old squire was high in his notions, very high; he thought but littleof Weights, though he sat under Elder Weight at that time. The Weightswere a good stock in the beginning, I've been told, but even then theyhad begun to go down-hill. It was one summer, and Conference was heldhere in Elmerton. The meetings were very long, and every soul went thatcould. Elmerton was a pious place in those days. The afternoon sessionsbegan at two o'clock and lasted till seven. Their brains must have beenmade of iron--or wood. " Mrs. Tree clicked her castanets again. 

"Well, sir, the last day there was a sight of business, and folks knewthe afternoon meeting would be extra long. Elder Weight and his wife(she was a Bonny; he'd never have been chosen elder if it hadn't beenfor her) were off in good season, and locked the door behind them; theykept no help at that time. The squire was off too, who but he, steppingup the street--dear me, Sirs, I can see him now, in his plum-coloredcoat and knee-breeches, silk stockings and silver buckles to his shoes. He had a Malacca cane, I remember, with a big ivory knob on it, and hewashed it night and morning as if it were a baby. He was a veryparticular man, had his shirt-frills done up with a silver friller. Well, those boys, Solomon Candy and Tom Darracott (that was my brother), watched till they saw them safe in at the meeting-house door, and thenthey set to work. There was no one in the parsonage except the cat, andat the Homestead there was only the housekeeper, who was deaf as Dagon, well they knew. The other servants had leave to go to meeting; everyone went that could, as I said. Tom knew his way all over the Homestead, our house being next door. No, it's not there now. It was burned downfifty years ago, and Tom's dead as long. They took our old horse andwagon, and they slipped in at the window of the squire's study, took outhis things, --his desk and chair, his footstool, the screen he alwayskept between him and the fire, and dear knows what all, --and loaded themup on the wagon. They worked twice as hard at that imp's doing as theywould at honest work, you may be bound. Then they drove down to theparsonage with the load, and tried round till they found a windowunfastened, and in they carried every single thing, into the elder'sstudy, and then loaded up with his rattletraps, and back to theHomestead. Working like beavers they were, every minute of theafternoon. By five o'clock they had their job done; and then in goesTom and asks dear old Grandmother Darracott, who could not leave herroom, and thought every fox was a cosset lamb, did she think father andmother (they were at the meeting too, of course) would let him and SolCandy go and take tea and spend the night at Plum-tree Farm, three milesoff, where our old nurse lived. Grandmother said 'Yes, to be sure!' forshe was always pleased when the children remembered Nursey; so off thosetwo Limbs went, and left their works behind them. 

"Evening came, and Conference was over at last; and here comes thesquire home, stepping along proud and stately as ever, but mortalhead-weary under the pride of his wig, for he was an old man, andgrudged his age, never sparing himself. He went straight into hisstudy--it was dusk by now--and dropped into the first chair, and so tosleep. By and by old Martha came and lighted the candles, but she nevernoticed anything. Why people's wits should wear out like old shoes is athing I never could understand; unless they're made of leather in thefirst place, and sometimes it seems so. The squire had his nap out, Isuppose, and then he woke up. When he opened his eyes, there in front ofhim, instead of his tall mahogany desk, was a ramshackle painted thing, with no handles to the drawers, and all covered with ink. He lookedround, and what does he see but strange things everywhere; strange tohis eyes, and yet he knew them. There was a haircloth sofa and threechairs, and on the walls, in place of his fine prints, was a picture ofElder Weight's father, and a couple of mourning pictures, weeping-willows and urns and the like, and Abraham and Isaac done inworsted-work, that he'd seen all his days in the parsonage parlor. Verylikely they are there still. "

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

"_Saw_, not _see_!" said Mrs. Tree. "Your grandfather spoke betterEnglish than you do, Tommy Candy. Learn grammar while you are young, oryou'll never learn it. Well, sir, the next I know is, I was sitting inmy high chair at supper with father and mother, when the door opens andin walks the old squire. His eyes were staring wild, and his wig cockedover on one ear--he was a sight to behold! He stood in the door, andcried out in a loud voice, 'Thomas Darracott, who am I?'

"My father was a quiet man, and slow to speak, and his first thought wasthat the 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 on the floor. 'Who am I?' he shoutedout. 'Am I Jonathan Tree, or am I that thundering, blunderinggogglepate, Ebenezer Weight?'

"Well, well! the words were hardly out of his mouth when there was agreat noise outside, and in comes Elder Weight with his wife after him, and he in a complete caniption, screeching that he was possessed of adevil, and desired the prayers of the congregation. (My father wassenior deacon at that time. )

"'I have broken the tenth commandment!' he cried. 'I have coveted SquireTree's desk and furniture, and now I see the appearance of them in mineown room, and I know that Satan has me fast in his grip. '

"Ah, well! It's not good for you to hear these things, Tommy Candy. Solomon was a naughty boy, and Tom Darracott was another, and they welldeserved the week of bread and water they got. I expect you make athird, if all was told. They grew up good men, though, and mind you dothe same. Have you eaten all the almonds?"

"'Most all!" said Tommy, modestly. 

"Put the rest in your pocket, then, and run along and ask Direxia togive you a spice-cake. Leave the fig-paste. The bird likes a bit withhis supper. What are you thinking of, Tommy Candy?"

Tommy rumpled his spiky hair, and gave her an elfish glance. "Candysdon't seem to like Weightses, " he said. "Grampy didn't, nor Dad don't;nor I don't. "

"Here, you may have the fig-paste, " said the old lady. "Shut the drawer. Mind you, Solomon, nor Tom either, ever did them any real harm. Solomonwas a kind boy, only mischievous--that was all the harm there was tohim. Even when he painted Isaac Weight's nose in stripes, he meant noharm in the world; but 'twas naughty all the same. He said he did it tomake him look prettier, and I don't know but it did. Don't you do anysuch 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. Treewas sitting in the twilight, as she loved to do, her little feet on thefender, her satin skirt tucked up daintily, a Chinese hand-screen in herhand. It seemed unlikely that the moderate heat of the driftwood firewould injure her complexion, which consisted chiefly of wrinkles, as hasbeen said; but she always had shielded her face from the fire, and shealways would--it was the proper thing to do. The parlor gloomed andlightened around her, the shifting light touching here a bit of goldlacquer, there a Venetian mirror or an ivory statuette. The fire purredand crackled softly; there was no other sound. The tiny figure in theebony chair was as motionless as one of the Indian idols that grinned ather from her mantelshelf. 

A ring at the door-bell, the shuffling sound of Direxia's soft shoes;then the opening door, and a man's voice asking some question. 

In an instant Mrs. Tree sat live and alert, her ears pricked, her eyesblack points of attention. Direxia's voice responded, peevish andresistant, refusing something. The man spoke again, urging some plea. 

"Direxia!" said Mrs. Tree. 

"Yes'm. Jest a minute. I'm seeing to something. "

"Direxia Hawkes!"

When Mrs. Tree used both names, Direxia knew what it meant. She appearedat the parlor door, flushed and defiant. 

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

"What does he look like?"

"I don't know; he's a tramp, if he's nothing worse. Wants something toeat. Most likely he's stealin' the umbrellas while here I stand!"

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

"What say?"

"Show him in here; and don't pretend to be deaf, when you hear as wellas I do. "

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

"Will you show him in here, or shall I come and fetch him?"

"Well! of all the cantankerous--here! come in, you! she wants to seeyou!" and Direxia, holding the door in her hand, beckoned angrily tosome one invisible. There was a murmur, a reluctant shuffle, and a manappeared in the doorway and stood lowering, his eyes fixed on theground; a tall, slight man, with stooping shoulders, and delicatepointed features. He was shabbily dressed, yet there was somethingfastidious in his air, and it was noticeable that the threadbare clotheswere clean. 

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

The man's eyes crept forward to her little feet, resting on the brassfender, and stopped there. 

"I asked for food, " he said. "I am hungry. "

"Are you a tramp?"

"Yes, madam. "

"Anything else?"

The man was silent. 

"There!" said Direxia, impatiently. "That'll do. Come out into thekitchen and I'll give ye something in a bag, and you can take it withyou. "

"I shall be pleased to have you take supper with me, sir!" said the oldlady, pointedly addressing the tramp. "Direxia, set a place for thisgentleman. "

The color rushed over the man's face. He started, and his eyes crepthalf-way up the old lady's dress, then dropped again. 

"I--cannot, madam!" he said, with an effort. "I thank you, but you mustexcuse me. "

"Why can't you?"

This time the eyes travelled as far as the diamond brooch, and restedthere curiously. 

"You must excuse me!" repeated the man, laboriously. "If your woman willgive me a morsel in the kitchen--or--I'd better go at once!" he said, breaking off suddenly. "Good evening!"

"Stop!" said Mrs. Tree, striking her ebony stick sharply on the floor. There was an instant of dead silence, no one stirring. 

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

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

"Shut the door!" Mrs. Tree commanded, addressing the stranger. "Comehere and sit down! No, not on that cheer. Take the ottoman with the beadpuppy on it. There!"

As the man drew forward the ottoman without looking at it, and sat down, she leaned back easily in her chair, and spoke in a half-confidentialtone:

"I get crumpled up, sitting here alone. Some day I shall turn to wood. Ilike a new face and a new notion. I had a grandson who used to live withme, and I'm lonesome since he died. How do you like tramping, now?"

"Pretty well, " said the man. He spoke over his shoulder, and kept hisface toward the fire; it was a chilly evening. "It's all right insummer, or when a man has his health. "

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

The man nodded gloomily. 

"That begins it. After awhile--I really think I must go!" he said, breaking off short. "You are very kind, madam, but I prefer to go. I amnot fit--"

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

He fell into a fit of helpless laughter, and laughed till the tears randown his cheeks. He felt for a pocket-handkerchief. 

"Here's one!" said Mrs. Tree, and handed him a gossamer square. He tookit mechanically. His hand was long and 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, andthey went in to supper together. 

Mrs. Tree's dining-room, like her parlor, was a treasury of rare woods. The old mahogany, rich with curious brass-work, shone darkly brilliantagainst the panels of satin-wood; the floor was a mosaic of bits fromCaptain Tree's woodpile, as he had been used to call the tumbled heap ofprecious fragments which grew after every voyage to southern or easternislands. The room was lighted by candles; Mrs. Tree would have no otherlight. Kerosene she called nasty, smelly stuff, and gas a stinkingsmother. She liked strong words, especially when they shocked MissPhoebe's sense of delicacy. As for electricity, Elmerton knew it notin her day. 

The shabby man seemed in a kind of dream. Half unconsciously he put theold lady into her seat and pushed her chair up to the table; then at asign from her he took the seat opposite. He laid the damask napkinacross his knees, and winced at the touch of it, as at the caress of along-forgotten hand. Mrs. Tree talked on easily, asking questions aboutthe roads he travelled and the people he met. He answered as briefly asmight 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 was a tiny gold Mandarin, clinging with hands and feet to the side ofthe cup. The man gave another helpless laugh, and looked about him as iffor a door of escape. 

Suddenly, close at his elbow, a voice spoke; a harsh, rasping voice, with nothing human in it. 

"Old friends!" said the voice. 

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

"_My God!_" he said, violently. 

"It's only the parrot!" said Mrs. Tree, comfortably. "Sit down again. There he is at your elbow. Jocko is his name. He does my swearing forme. My grandson and a friend of his taught him that, and I have taughthim a few other things beside. Good Jocko! speak up, boy!"

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

"That was my grandson and his friend, " said the old lady, never takingher eyes from the man's face. "What's the matter? feel faint, hey?"

"Yes, " said the man. He was leaning on the back of his chair, fightingsome spasm of feeling. "I am--faint. I must get out into the air. "

The old lady rose briskly and came to his side. "Nothing of the sort!"she said. "You'll come up-stairs and lie down. "

"No! no! no!" cried the man, and with each word his voice rang outlouder and sharper as the emotion he was fighting gripped him closer. "Not in this house. Never! Never!"

"Cat's foot!" said Mrs. Tree. "Don't talk to me! Here! give me your arm!_Do as I say!_ There!"

"Old friends!" said the parrot. 

 * * * * *

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

"There isn't any dog in the house, " said Mrs. Tree, over the balusters, "and Deacon Weight is at Conference, and won't be back till the last ofthe week. That will do, Direxia; you mean well, but you are aninnyhammer. This way!"

She twitched the reluctant arm that held 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 and stood shaking, staring about himwith wild eyes. The ancient woman laid her hand on his, and he startedas at an electric shock. 

"Come, Willy, " she said, "lie down and rest. "

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

"Come, Willy, " she repeated, "lie down and rest on Arthur's bed. You aretired, boy. "

"I came--" the shaking voice steadied itself into words, "I came--to robyou, Mrs. Tree. "

"Why, so I supposed, Will; at least, I thought it likely. You can haveall you want, without that--there's plenty for you and me. Folks call meclose, and I like to do what I like with my own money. There's plenty, Itell you, for you and me and the bird. Do you think he knew you, Willy?I believe he did. "

"God knows! When--how did you know me, Mrs. Tree?"

"Get up, Willy Jaquith, and I'll tell you. Sit down; there's the chairyou made together, when you were fifteen. Remember, hey? I knew yourvoice at the door, or I thought I did. Then when you wouldn't look atthe bead puppy, I hadn't much doubt; and when I said 'Cat's foot!' andyou laughed, I knew for sure. You've had a hard time, Willy, but you'rethe same boy. "

"If you would not be kind, " said the man, "I think it would be easier. You ought to give me up, you know, and let me go to jail. I'm no good. I'm a vagrant and a drunkard, and worse. But you won't, I know that; sonow let me go. I'm not fit to stay in Arthur's room or lie on his bed. Give me a little money, my dear old friend--yes, the parrot knewme!--and let me go!"

"Hark!" said the old woman. 

She went to the door and listened. Her keen old face had grownwonderfully soft in the last hour, but now it sharpened and hardened tothe likeness of 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'sclothes; take a bath and dress yourself, and rest awhile; then come downand talk to me. Yes, you will! _Do as I say!_ Willy Jaquith, if you tryto leave this house, I'll set the parrot on you. Remember the day he bityou for stealing his apple, and served you right? There's the scarstill on your cheek. Greatest wonder he didn't put your eyes out!"

She slipped out and closed the door after her; then stood at the head ofthe stairs, listening. 

Mrs. Ephraim Weight, a ponderous woman with a chronic tremolo, was inthe hall, a knitted shawl over her head and shoulders. 

"I've waited 'most an hour to see that tramp come out, " she was saying. "Deacon's away, and I was scairt to death, but I'm a mother, and I hadto come. How I had the courage I don't know, when I thought you and Mis'Tree might meet my eyes both layin' dead in this entry. Where is he?Don't you help or harbor him now, Direxia Hawkes! I saw his evil eye ashe stood on the doorstep, and I knew by the way he peeked and peeredthat he was after no good. Where is he? I know he didn't go out. Hush!don't say a word! I'll slip out and round and get Hiram Sawyer. My boysis to singing-school, and it was a Special Ordering that I happened tolook out of window just that moment of time. Where did you say he--"

"Oh, do let me speak, Mis' Weight!" broke in Direxia, in a shrillhalf-whisper. "Don't speak so loud! She'll hear ye, and she's in one ofher takings, and I dono--lands sakes, I don't know what _to_ do! I donowho he is, or whence he comes, but she--"

"Direxia Hawkes!" barked Mrs. Tree from the head of the stairs. 

"There! you hear her!" murmured Direxia. "Oh, she is the beat of all!I'm comin', Mis' Tree!"

She fled up the stairs; her mistress, bending forward, darted awhispered arrow at her. 

"Oh, my Solemn Deliverance!" cried Direxia Hawkes. 

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

"Good evening, Malvina. What can I do for you? Pray step in. "

Mrs. Weight sidled into the parlor before a rather awful wave of theebony stick, and sat down on the edge of a chair near the door. Mrs. Tree crossed the room to her own high-backed armchair, took her seatdeliberately, put her feet on the crimson hassock, and leaned forward, resting her hands on the crutch-top of her stick, and her chin on herhands. In this attitude she looked more elfin than human, and the lightthat danced in her black eyes was not of a reassuring nature. 

"What can I do for you?" she repeated. 

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

"I'm sure, Mis' Tree, it's not on my own account I come. I'm the lastone to intrude, as any one in this village can tell you. But you are ananncient woman, and your neighbors are bound to protect you when needis. I see that tramp come in here with my own eyes, and he's here for nogood. "

"What tramp?" asked Mrs. Tree. 

"Good land, Mis' Tree, didn't you see him? He slipped right in pastDirexia. I see him with these eyes. "

"When?"

"'Most an hour ago. I've been watching ever since. Don't tell me youdidn't know 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 hid him; he's an accomplish of hers. You've always trusted that woman, Mis' Tree, but I tell you I've had myeye on her these ten years, and now I've found her out. She's hid himaway somewheres, I tell you. There's cupboards and clusets enough inthis house to hide a whole gang of cutthroats in--and when you're abedand asleep they'll have your life, them two, and run off with yourworldly goods that you've thought so much of. Would have, that is, if Ihadn't have had a Special Ordering to look out of winder. Oh, howthankful should I be that I kep' the use of my limbs, though I wasscairt 'most to death, and am now. "

"Yes, they might be useful to you, " said Mrs. Tree, "to get home with, for instance. There, that will do, Malvina Weight. There is no tramphere. Your eyesight is failing; there were always weak eyes in yourfamily. There's no tramp here, and there has been none. "

"Mis' Tree! I tell you I see him with these--"

"Bah! don't talk to me!" Mrs. Tree blazed into sudden wrath. But nextinstant she straightened herself over her cane, and spoke quietly. 

"Good night, Malvina. You mean well, and I bear no malice. I'm obligedto you for your good intentions. What you took for a tramp was agentleman who has come to stay overnight with me. He's up-stairs now. Did you lock your door when you came out? There _are_ tramps about, soI've heard, and if Ephraim is away--well, good night, if you must hurry. Direxia, lock the door and put the chain up; and if anybody else callsto-night, set the bird on 'em. "

CHAPTER V. 

"BUT WHEN HE WAS YET A GREAT WAY OFF"

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

"I didn't care, " said William Jaquith. "It helped me to forget for a bitat a time. I thought I could give it up any day, but I didn't. Then--Ilost my place, of course, and started to come East, and had my pocketpicked in Denver, every cent I had. I tried for work there, but betweensickness and drink I wasn't good for much. I started tramping. I thoughtI would tramp--it was last spring, and warm weather coming on--till I'dgot my health back, and then I'd steady down and get some work, andcome back to Mother when I was fit to look her in the face. Then--insome place, I forget what, though I know the pattern of the wall-paperby the table where I was sitting--I came upon a King's County paper withMother's death in it. "

"What!" said Mrs. Tree, straightening herself over her stick. 

"Oh, it didn't make so much difference, " Jaquith went on, dreamily. "Iwasn't fit to see her, I knew that well enough; only--it was a greenpaper, with splotchy yellow flowers on it. Fifteen flowers to a row; Icounted them over seven times before I could be sure. Well, I was sickagain after that, I don't know how long; some kind of fever. When I gotup again something was gone out of me, something that had kept me honesttill then. I made up my mind that I would get money somehow, I didn'tmuch care how. I thought of you, and the gold counters you used to letArthur and me play with, so that we might learn not to think too much ofmoney. You remember? I thought I might get some of those, and you mightnot miss them. You didn't need them, anyhow, I thought. Yes, I knew youwould give them to me if I asked for them, but I wasn't going to ask. Icame here to-night to see if there was any man or dog about the house. If not, I meant to slip in by and by at the pantry window; I rememberedthe trick of the spring. I forgot Jocko. There! now you know all. Youought to give me up, Mrs. Tree, but you won't do that. "

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

She looked at him thoughtfully. His eyes were wandering about the room, a painful pleasure growing in them as they rested on one object afteranother. Beautiful eyes they were, in shape and color--if the light werenot gone out of them. 

"The bead puppy!" he said, presently. "I can remember when we wonderedif it could bark. We must have been pretty small then. When did Arthurdie, Mrs. Tree? I hadn't heard--I supposed he was still in Europe. "

"Two years ago. "

"Was it--" something seemed to choke the man. 

"Fretting for her?" said Mrs. Tree, sharply. "No, it wasn't. He foundher out before you did, Willy. He knew you'd find out, too; he knew whowas to blame, and that she turned your head and set you crazy. 'Be goodto old Will if you ever have a chance!' that was one of the last thingshe said. He had grippe, and pneumonia after it, only a week in all. "

Jaquith turned his head away. For a time neither spoke. The fire purredand crackled comfortably in the wide fireplace. The heat brought out thescent of the various woods, and the air was alive with warm perfume. The dim, antique richness of the little parlor seemed to come to a pointin the small, alert figure, upright in the ebony chair. The firelightplayed on her gleaming satin and misty laces, and lighted the fine linesof her wrinkled face. Very soft the lines seemed now, but it might bethe light. 

"Arthur Blyth taken and Will Jaquith left!" said the young man, softly. "I wonder if God always knows what he is about, Mrs. Tree. Are therestill candied cherries in the sandalwood cupboard? I know the orangecordial is there in the gold-glass decanter with the little fat goldtumblers. "

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

William Jaquith raised his head, and met the keen kindness of her eyes;for the first time a smile broke over his face, a smile of singularsweetness. 

"Why, yes, Mrs. Tree!" he said. "I feel better than I have since--Idon't know when. I feel--almost--like a man again. It's better than thecordial just to look at you, and smell the wood, and feel the fire. Whata pity one cannot die when one wants to. This would be ceasing on themidnight without pain, wouldn't it?"

"Why don't you give up drink?" asked Mrs. Tree, abruptly. 

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

"Cat'sfoot-fiddlestick-folderol-fudge!" blazed the old woman. "She's nomore dead than I am. Don't talk to me! hold on to yourself now, WillyJaquith, and don't make a scene; it is a thing I cannot abide. It wasMaria Jaquith that died, over at East Corners. Small loss she was, too. None of that family was ever worth their salt. The fool who writes forthe papers put her in 'Mary, ' and gave out that she died here inElmerton just because they brought her here to bury. They've alwaysburied here in the family lot, as if they were of some account. I wasafraid you might hear of it, Willy, and wrote to the last place I heardof you in, but of course it was no use. Mary Jaquith is alive, I tellyou. Now where are you going?"

Jaquith had started to his feet, dead white, his eyes shining likecandles. 

"To Mother!"

"Yes, I would! wake her up out of a sound sleep at ten o'clock at night, and scare her into convulsions. Sit down, Willy Jaquith; _do as I tellyou_! There! feel pretty well, hey? Your mother is blind. "

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

"Exactly! now don't go into a caniption, for it won't do any good. Youmust go to bed now, and, what's more, go to sleep; and we'll go downtogether in the morning. Here's Direxia now with the gruel. There! hush!don't say a word!"

The old serving-woman entered bearing a silver tray, on which was acovered bowl of India china, a small silver saucepan, and somethingcovered with a napkin. William Jaquith went to a certain corner andbrought out a teapoy of violet wood, which he set down at the old lady'selbow. 

"There!" said Direxia Hawkes. "Did you ever?"

She was shaking all over, but she set the tray down carefully. Jaquithtook the saucepan from her hand and set it on the hob. Then he liftedthe napkin. Under it were two plates, one of biscuits, the other ofsmall cakes shaped like a letter S. 

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

He stooped to kiss the withered brown cheek; the old woman caught up herapron to her face. 

"It's him! it's him! it's one of my little boys, 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 into the gruel, " she said, kindly. "You are an old goose, Direxia Hawkes. I haven't been able to cry forten years, Willy. Here! take the 'postle spoon and stir it. Has shebrought a cup for you?"

"Well, I should hope I had!" said Direxia, drying her eyes. "I ain'tquite lost 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're all shaken up. "

"Gadzooks!" said the parrot. "The cup that cheers! Go to bed, Direxia!Direxia Hawkes, wife of Guy Fawkes!"

"Now look at that!" said Direxia. "Ain't you ashamed, Willy Jaquith? Heain't said that since you went away. "

 * * * * *

The next morning was bright and clear. Mrs. Malvina Weight, sweeping herfront chamber, with an anxious eye on the house opposite, saw the dooropen and Mrs. Tree come out, followed by a tall young man. The old ladywore the huge black velvet bonnet, surmounted by a bird of paradise, which she had brought from Paris forty years before, and an India shawlwhich had pointed a moral to the pious of Elmerton for more than thatlength of time. "Adorning her perishing back with what would put food inthe mouth of twenty Christian heathens for a year!" was the way Mrs. Weight herself expressed it. 

This morning, however, Mrs. Weight had no eyes for her aged neighbor. Every faculty she possessed was bent on proving the identity of thestranger. He kept his face turned from her in a way that was mostexasperating. Could it be the man she saw last night? If her eyes weregoing as bad as that, she must see the optician next time he camethrough the village, and be fitted a new pair of glasses; it wasscandalous, after paying him the price she did no more than five yearsago, and him saying they'd last her lifetime. Why, this was a gentleman, sure enough. It must be the same, and them shadows, looking like rags, deceived her. Well, anybody living, except Mis' Tree, would have saidhis name, if it wasn't but just for neighborliness. Who could it be? Notthat Doctor Strong back again, just when they were well rid of him? No, this man was taller, and stoop-shouldered. Seemed like she had seen thatback before. 

She gazed with passionate yearning till the pair passed out of sight, the ancient woman leaning on the young man's arm, yet stepping brisklyalong, her ebony staff tapping the sidewalk smartly. 

Mrs. Weight called over the stairs. 

"Isick, be you there?"

"Yep!"

"Why ain't you to school, I'd like to know? Since you be here, jest runround through Candy's yard and come back along the street, that's a goodboy, and see who that is Mis' Tree's got with her. "

"I can't! I got the teethache!" whined Isaac. 

"It won't hurt your teethache any. Run now, and I'll make you asaucer-pie next time 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 me like that! I'll tell your pa, ifyou don't do as I tell you. "

"Well, ain't I goin', quick as I can? I won't go through Candy's yard, though; that mean Tom Candy's waitin' for me now with a big rock, 'causeI got him sent home for actin' in school. I'll go and ask the man who heis. S'pose he knows. "

"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 Ibelieve you've been sent home your own self for cuttin' up--not that Idoubt Tommy Candy was, too. I shall ask your father to whip you goodwhen he gits home. "

 * * * * *

"Well, Mary Jaquith, here you sit. "

"Mrs. Tree! Is this you? My dear soul, what brings you out so early inthe morning? Come in! come in! Who is with 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 oldenough. How are you? obstinate as ever?"

The blind woman smiled. In her plain print dress, she had the air of amasquerading duchess, and her blue eyes were as clear and beautiful asthose which were watching her from the door. 

"Take this chair, " she said, pushing forward a straight-backed armchair. "It's the one you always like. How am I obstinate, dear Mrs. Tree?"

"If I've asked you once to come and live with me, I've asked you fiftytimes, " grumbled the old lady, sitting down with a good deal of flutterand rustle. "There I must stay, left alone at my age, with nobody butthat old goose of a Direxia Hawkes to look after me. And all because youlike to be independent. Set you up! Well, I sha'n't ask you again, andso I've come to tell you, Mary Jaquith. "

"Dear old friend, you forgive me, I know. You never can have thought fora moment, seriously, that I could be a burden on your kind hands. Theresurely is some one with you, Mrs. Tree! Is it Direxia? Please be seated, whoever it is. "

She turned her beautiful face and clear, quiet eyes toward the door. There was a slight sound, as of a sob checked in the outbreak. Mrs. Treeshook her head, fiercely. The blind woman rose from her 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 fortwo minutes, and not drive every idea out of my head with yourquestions. Mary, I--I had a visitor last night. Some one came to seeme--an old acquaintance--who had--who had heard of Willy lately. Willyis--doing well, my dear. Now, Mary Jaquith, if you don't sit down, Iwon't say another word. Of all the unreasonable women I ever saw in mylife--"

Mrs. Tree stopped, and rose abruptly from her seat. The blind woman washolding out her arms with a heavenly gesture of appeal, of welcome, oflove unutterable: her face was the face of an angel. Another moment, andher son's arms were round her, and her head on his bosom, and he wascrying over and over again, "Mother! mother! mother!" as if he could nothave enough of the word. 

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

 * * * * *

Five minutes later, Mrs. Weight, hurrying up the plank walk which led tothe Widow Jaquith's door, was confronted by the figure of her oppositeneighbor, sitting on the front doorstep, leaning her chin on her stick, and looking, as Mrs. Weight told the deacon afterward, like Satan'sgrandmother. 

"Want to see Mary Jaquith?" asked Mrs. Tree. "Well, she's engaged, andyou can't. Here! give me your arm, Viny, and take me over to the girls'. I want to see how Phoebe is this morning. She was none too spryyesterday. "

CHAPTER VI. 

THE NEW POSTMASTER

Politics had little hold in Elmerton. When any question of publicinterest was to be settled, the elders of the village met and settledit; if they disagreed among themselves, they went to Mrs. Tree, and shetold them what to do. People sometimes wondered what would happen whenMrs. Tree died, but there seemed no immediate danger of this. 

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

When Israel Nudd, the postmaster, died, Elmerton found little difficultyin recommending his successor. The day after his funeral, the eldersassembled at the usual place of meeting, the post-office piazza. Thiswas a narrow platform running along one side of the post-officebuilding, and commanding a view of the sea. A row of chairs stood alongthe wall on their hind legs. They might be supposed to have lost the useof their fore legs, simply because they never were used. In these chairsthe elders sat, and surveyed the prospect. 

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

No one seemed inclined to contradict this statement. 

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

"I never see no sense in that, " remarked Seth Weaver. "Why should achange of weather make the water rily beforehand? Besides, it ain't. "

"My Uncle Ammi lived to a hundred and two, " said John Peavey, slowly, "and he never doubted it. You're allers contrary, Seth. If I said I hada nose on my face, you'd say it warn't so. "

"Wal, some might call it one, " rejoined Seth, with a cautious glance. "Iain't fond of committin' myself. "

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

"Brether--I--I would say, gentlemen, we have met to recommend apostmaster for this village, in the room of Israel Nudd, diseased. Whatis your pleasure in this matter? I s'pose Homer'd ought to have it, hadn't he?"

The conclave meditated. No one had the smallest doubt that Homer oughtto have it, but it was not well to decide matters too hastily. 

"Homer's none too speedy, " said Abram Cutter. "He gets to moonin' overthe mail sometimes, and it seems as if you'd git Kingdom Come before yougot the paper. But I never see no harm in Home. "

"Not a mite, " was the general verdict. 

"Homer's as good as gingerbread, " said Salem Rock, heartily. "He knowsthe business, ben in it sence he was a boy, and there's no one elsedoos. My 'pinion, he'd oughter have the job. "

He spoke emphatically, and all the others glanced at him with approval;but there was no hurry. The mail would not be in for half an hour yet. 

"There's the _Fidely_, " said Seth Weaver. "Goin' up river for logs, Iexpect. "

A dingy tug came puffing by. As she passed, a sooty figure waved asalutation, and the whistle screeched thrice. Seth Weaver swung his hatin acknowledgment. 

"Joe Derrick, " he said. "Him and me run her a spell together last year. "

"How did she run?" inquired John Peavey. 

"Like a wu'm with the rheumatiz, " was the reply. "The logs in the riverused to roll over and groan, to see lumber put together in such shape. She ain't safe, neither. I told Joe so when I got out. I says, 'It'stime she was to her long home, ' I says, 'but I don't feel no call to beone of the bearers, ' I says. Joe's reckless. I expect he'll keep righton till she founders under him, and then walk ashore on his feet. Theyare bigger than some rafts I've seen, I tell him. "

"Speaking of bearers, " said Abram Cutter, "hadn't we ought to pass avote of thanks to Isr'el, or something?"

"What for? turnin' up his toes?" inquired the irrepressible Seth. "Idono as he did it to obleege us, did he?"

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

"That's so!" said Salem Rock. "You're right, Abram. What we want issome resolutions of sympathy for the widder. That's what's usual in suchcases. "

"Humph!" said Seth Weaver. 

The others looked thoughtful. 

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

He glanced at Seth Weaver, who cleared his throat and gazed seaward. Theothers waited. Presently--

"If I was drawin' up them resolutions, " Weaver said, slowly, "'pears tome I should say something like this:

"'Resolved, that Isr'el Nudd was a good postmaster, and done his workfaithful; and resolved, that we tender his widder all the respeckfulsympathy she requires. ' And a peanut-shell to put it in!" he added, ina lower tone. 

Salem Rock pulled out a massive silver watch and looked at it. 

"I got to go!" he said. "Let's boil this down! All present who wantHomer Hollopeter for postmaster, say so; contrary-minded? It's a vote!We'll send the petition to Washin'ton. Next question is, who'll he havefor an assistant?"

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

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

"What do we need of an assistant? Homer Hollopeter could do the workwith one hand, except Christmas and New Years. There ain't room enoughin there 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 thesize of it is, you'd like more room to set by the stove, without no eggsto set on. "

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

"I reckon gov'ment's big enough to take care of itself!" said SethWeaver. 

"There's allers been an assistant, " said Salem Rock, briefly. "Questionis, who to have?"

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

"Good afternoon, gentlemen!" he said, nervously. A great content shonein his mild brown eyes, --indeed, he must have heard every word that hadbeen spoken, --but he shuffled his feet and twitched the blind uneasilyafter he had spoken. 

"Good afternoon, Mr. Postmaster!" said Salem Rock, heartily. 

"Congratulations, Home!" said Seth Weaver. The others nodded and gruntedapprovingly. 

"There's nothing official yet, you understand, " Salem Rock added, kindly; "but we've passed a vote, and the rest is only a question oftime. "

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

Mr. Homer drew himself up and settled his sky-blue necktie. 

"Gentlemen, " he said, his voice faltering a little at first, but gainingstrength as he went on, "I thank you for the honor you do me. I amdeeply sensible of it, and of the responsibility of the position I amcalled upon to fill; to--occupy;--to--a--become a holder of. "

"Have a lozenger, Home!" said Seth Weaver, encouragingly. 

"I--am obliged to you, Seth; not any!" said Mr. Homer, slightlyflustered. "I was about to say that my abilities, such as they are, shall be henceforth devoted to the service--to the--amelioration; tothe--mental, moral, and physical well-being--of my country and my fellowcitizens. Ahem! I suppose--I believe it is the custom--a--in short, am Iat liberty to choose an assistant?"

"We were just talkin' about that, " said Salem Rock. 

"Yes, you choose your own assistant, of course; but--well, it's usual tochoose someone that's agreeable to folks. I believe the village hasgenerally had some say in the matter; not officially, you understand, just kind of complimentary. We nominate you, and you kind o' consult usabout who you'll have in to help. That seems about square, don't it?Doctor Stedman recommended you to Isr'el, I remember. "

There was an assenting hum. 

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

"Mr. Rock, " he said, eagerly, "I wish most earnestly--I am greatlydesirous of having William Jaquith as my assistant. I--he appears to mea most suitable person. I beg, gentlemen--I hope, boys, that you willagree with me. The only son of his mother, and she is a widow. "

He paused, and looked anxiously at the elders. 

They had all turned toward him when he appeared, some even going so faras to set their chairs on four legs, and hitching them forward so thatthey might command a view of their beneficiary. 

But now, with one accord, they turned their faces seaward, and became toall appearance deeply interested in a passing sail. 

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

Salem Rock crossed and recrossed his legs uneasily. 

"That's all very well, Homer, " he said. "No man thinks more of Scripturethan what I do, in its place; but this ain't its place. This ain't aquestion of widders, it's a question of the village. Will Jaquith is acrooked stick, and you know it. "

"He has been, Brother Rock, he has been!" said Mr. Homer, eagerly. "Igrant you the past; but William is a changed man, he is, indeed. He hassuffered much, and a new spirit is born in him. His one wish is to behis mother's stay and support. If you were to see him, Brother Rock, andtalk with him, I am sure you would feel as I do. Consider what the poetsays: 'The quality of mercy is not strained!'"

"Mebbe it ain't, so fur!" said Seth Weaver; "question is, how strong itsback is. If I was Mercy, I should consider Willy Jaquith quite a lug. Old man Butters used to say:

 "'Rollin' stones you keep your eyes on! Some on 'em's pie, and some on 'em's pison. '"

"--His appointment would be acceptable to the ladies of the village, Ihave reason to think, " persisted Mr. Homer. "My venerable relative, Mrs. Tree, expressed herself strongly--" (Mr. Homer blinked two or threetimes, as if recalling something of an agitating nature)--"I may say_very_ strongly, in favor of it; in fact, the suggestion came in thefirst place from her, though I had also had it in mind. "

There was a change in the atmosphere; a certain rigidity of neck and setof chin gradually softened and disappeared. The elders shuffled theirfeet, and glanced one at another. 

"It mightn't do no harm to give him a try, " said Abram Cutter. "Homer'sben clerk himself fifteen year, and he knows what's wanted. "

"That's so, " said the elders. 

"After all, " said Salem Rock, "it's Homer has the appointin'; all wecan do is advise. If you're set on givin' Will Jaquith a chance, Homer, and if Mis' Tree answers for him--why, I dono as we'd ought to opposeit. Only, you keep your eye on him! Meetin's adjourned. "

The elders strolled away by ones and twos, each with his word ofcongratulation or advice to the new postmaster. Seth Weaver alonelingered, leaning on the window-ledge. His eyes--shrewd blue eyes, witha twinkle in them--roamed over the rather squalid little room, with itstwo yellow chairs, its painted pine table and rusty stove. 

"Seems curus without Isr'el, " he said, meditatively. "Seems kind o'peaceful and empty, like the hole in your jaw where you've had a toothhauled; or like stoppin' off takin' physic. "

"Israel was an excellent postmaster, " said Mr. Homer, gently. "I thoughtyour resolutions were severe, Seth, though I am aware that they wereoffered partly in jest. "

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

CHAPTER VII. 

IN MISS PENNY'S SHOP

One of the pleasantest places in Elmerton was Miss Penny Pardon's shop. Miss Penny (short for Penelope) and Miss Prudence were sisters; and asthere was not enough dressmaking in the village to keep them both busyat all seasons, and as Miss Penny was lame and could not "go" much, aswe say in the village, she kept this little shop, through which onepassed to reach the back parlor where Miss Prudence cut and fitted andstitched. It was a queer little shop. There were a few toys, chieflydolls, beautifully dressed by Miss Prudence, with marbles and tops intheir season for the boys; there was a little fancy work, made byvarious invalid neighbors, which Miss Penny undertook to sell "if 'twasso she could, " without profit to herself; a little stationery, and a fewsmall wares, thread and needles, hairpins and whalebone--and there werea great many birds. Elmerton was a great place for cage-birds, and MissPenny was "knowing" about them; consequently, when any bird was ailing, it was brought to her for advice and treatment, and there were seldomless than half a dozen cages in the sunny window. One shelf was devotedto stuffed birds, it being the custom, when a favorite died, to presentit to Miss Penny for her collection; and thus the invalid canaries andmino birds were constantly taught to know their end, which may or maynot have tended to raise their spirits. 

One morning Miss Penny was bustling about her shop, feeding the birdsand talking to Miss Prudence, the door between the two rooms being open. She was like a bird herself, Miss Penny, with her quick motions andbright eyes, her halting walk which was almost a hop, and a way she hadof cocking her head on one side as she talked. 

"So I says, 'Of course I'll take him, Mis' Tree, and glad to. He'll becompany for both of us, ' I says. And it's true. I'd full as lieves hearthat bird talk as many folks I know, and liever. I told her I guessedabout a week would set him up good, taking the Bird Manna reg'lar, andthe Bitters once in a while. A little touch of asthmy is what he's got;it hasn't taken him down any, as I can see; he's as full of the oldSancho as ever. Willy Jaquith brought him down this morning, while youwas to market. How that boy has improved! Why, he's an elegant-appearingyoung man now, and has such a pretty way with him--well, he always hadthat--but now he's kind of sad and gentle. I shouldn't suppose he hadany too long to live, the way he looks now. Well, hasn't Mary Jaquithhad a sight of trouble, for one so good? Dear me, Prudence, the day shemarried George Jaquith, she seemed to have the world at her feet, didn'tshe?"

"_Eheu fugaces_, " said a harsh voice from a corner. 

"There, hear him!" said Miss Penny. "I do admire to hear him speakFrench. Yes, Jocko, he was a clever boy, so he was. Pretty soon Penny'llget round to him, and give him a good washing, a Beauty Bird, and feedhim something real good. "

 "'_Eheu fugaces, Postume, Postume, Labuntur anni_;'

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

"Bless your heart, she wouldn't understand if I did. She never had youradvantages, dear, " said Miss Penny, admiringly. "Here, now you have hada nice nap, and I'll move you out into the sun, and give you a drop ofBird Bitters. Take it now, a Beauty Boy. Prudence, I wish't you couldsee him; he's taking it just as clever! I never did see the beat of thisbird for knowingness. "

"Malviny Weight was askin' me about them Bitters, " said Miss Prudence'svoice from the inner room. "She wanted to know if there was alcohol in'em, and if you thought it was right to tempt 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 is this minute. Good morning, Mis' Weight! You're quite a stranger. Real seasonable, ain't it, thismornin'?"

"'Tis so!" responded the newcomer, who entered, breathing heavily. "Ifeel the morning air, though, in my bronical tubes. I hadn't ought to goout before noon, but I wanted to speak to Prudence about turnin' mybrown skirt. Is she in?"

"Yes'm, she's in. You can pass right through. 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, and began arranging toys on a shelf. 

"Why, that's Mis' Tree's parrot, Mis' Weight, " she said. "That's Jocko. You must know him as well as I do, and better, livin' opposite neighborto her. "

"I should think I did know him, for a limb of Satan!" said the visitor. "But I never looked for him here. Is he sick? I wish to gracious he'ddie. It's my belief he's possessed, like some others I know of. I'm notone to spread, or I could tell you stories about that bird--"

She nodded mysteriously, and glanced at the parrot, who had turnedupside down on his perch, and was surveying her with a malevolent stare. 

"Why, Mis' Weight, I was just sayin' how cute he was. He'll talk just aspretty sometimes--won't you, Jocko? Say something for Mis' Weight, won'tyou, Beauty Boy?"

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

"Was she?" said Miss Penny, encouragingly. "I want to know! Now, who doyou s'pose he means? There's nobody name of Helen here now, exceptDoctor Pottle's little girl, and she squints. "

 "Helen was a beauty, Xantippe was a shrew; Medusa was a Gorgon, And so--are--_you_!

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

Swinging himself upright, the parrot flapped his wings, and uttered ablood-curdling shriek. Mrs. Weight gave a single squawk, and fled intothe inner room, slamming the door violently after her. 

"How you can harbor Satan, Prudence Pardon, is more than I canunderstand, " she panted, purple with rage. "If there was a _man_ in thisvillage, he'd wring that bird's neck. "

Miss Prudence was removing pins from her mouth, preparatory to a reply, when Miss Penny appeared, very pink, it might 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 sure neither one of 'em would do itto-day, let alone Arthur's being dead. Why, he says it off same as hewould a psalm, if they'd taught him that, as of course it's a pity theydidn't. You won't mind now, will you, Mis' Weight?"

Mrs. Weight, very majestic, deposited her bundle on the table, and satdown. 

"I say nothing of the dead, " she proclaimed, after a pause, "and butlittle of the livin'; but I should be lawth to have the load on myshoulders that Mis' Tree has. The Day of Judgment will attend to ArthurBlyth, but she is responsible for Will Jaquith's comin' back to thisvillage, and how she can sleep nights is a mystery to me. I thankGracious _I_ see through him at once. Some may be deceived, but I'm notone of 'em. "

"Now, Mis' Weight, I wouldn't talk so, if I was you, " said Miss Penny, still soothingly. "Willy Jaquith's doing real pretty in the office, everybody says. Mr. Homer's tickled to death to have him there, andthey've got the place slicked up so you wouldn't know it. I alwaysthought Homer Hollopeter had a sufferin' time under Isr'el Nudd, thoughhe never said anything. It's not his way. "

"What did you say you wanted done with this skirt?" asked Miss Prudence, breaking in. She had less patience than Miss Penny, and she bent hersteel-bowed spectacles on the visitor with a look which meant, "Come tobusiness, if you have any!"

"Well, I don't hardly know!" said Mrs. Weight, unrolling her bundle. "I'm so upset with that screeching Limb there, I feel every minute as ifI should have palpitations. It does seem as if the larger I got thefrailer I was inside. The co'ts of my stom--"

"I thought you said 'twas a skirt!" Miss Prudence broke in again, grimly. 

"So 'tis. There! I got something on this front brea'th the other day, and it won't come out, try all I can. I thought mebbe you could--"

She plunged into depths of pressing and turning. At this moment theshop-bell rang, and Miss Penny slipped back to her post. 

"Good mornin', Miss Vesta! Well, you are a sight for sore eyes, as thesaying is. "

"I thank you, Penelope. How do you do this morning?" inquired Miss VestaBlyth. "I trust you and Prudence are both well. "

"Yes'm, we're real smart, sister 'n' me both. Sister's had the lumbagosome this last week, and my limb has pestered me so I couldn't step onit none too lively, but other ways we're _real_ smart. I expect you'vecome to see about Darlin' here. "

She took a cage from the window and placed it on the counter. In it wasa yellow canary, which at sight of its mistress gave a joyous flap ofits golden wings, and instantly broke into a flood of song. 

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

"He has found his voice again. And he looks quite, quite himself. Why, Penelope, what have you done to him to make such a difference in thesefew days? Dear little fellow! I am so pleased!"

Miss Penny beamed. "I guess you ain't no more pleased than I be, " shesaid. "There! I hated to see him sittin' dull and bunchy like he waswhen you brought him in. I've ben givin' him Bird Manna and Bittersright along, and I've bathed them spots till they're all gone. I guessyou'll find him 'most as good as new. Little Beauty Darlin', so he was!"

"Old friends!" said the parrot, ruffling himself all over and looking atMiss Vesta. "Vesta, Vesta, how's Phoebe?"

"Jocko here!" said Miss Vesta. "Good morning, Jocko!"

[Illustration: "SHE PUT OUT A FINGER, AND JOCKO CLAWED IT WITHOUTCEREMONY. "]

She put out a finger, and Jocko clawed it without ceremony. 

"I advised Aunt Marcia to send him to you, Penelope, and I am so gladshe has done so. He seemed quite croupy yesterday, and at his age, ofcourse, even a slight ailment may prove serious. "

"How old _is_ that bird, Miss Vesta, if I may ask?" said Miss Penny. 

"I know he's older'n I be, but I never liked to inquire his age ofDirexia; she might think it was a reflection. "

"I remember Jocko as long as I remember anything, " said Miss Vesta. "Iused to be afraid of him when I was a child, he swore so terribly. Thestory was that he had belonged to a French marquis in the time of theRevolution; he certainly knew many--violent expressions in thatlanguage. "

"I want to know if he did!" exclaimed Miss Penny, regarding the parrotwith something like admiring awe. 

"Why, I've never heard him use any strong expressions, Miss Vesta. Hedoes speak French sometimes, but it doesn't sound like swearin', not amite. Not ten minutes ago he was sayin' something about Jehu; soundedreal Scriptural. "

"Oh, I have not heard him swear for years, " said Miss Vesta. "AuntMarcia cured him by covering the cage whenever he said anythingunsuitable. He never does it now, unless he sees some one he dislikesvery 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! rifol liddy fo li, tiddy fo liddy fol li!"

"Ain't it mysterious?" said Miss Penny, in an awestricken voice. "There!it always makes me think of the Tower of Babel. Did you want to takelittle Darlin' back to-day, Miss Blyth? I was thinkin' I'd keep him aday or two longer till his feathers looked real handsome and full. Idon't suppose you'd want him converted red, would you, Miss Vesta? I'mtold they're real handsome, but I don't s'pose you'd want to resk hishealth. "

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

"No'm! oh, no, cert'in not, though I have heerd of them as did. But mybird book says, feed a canary red pepper and he'll turn red, and stay sotill next time he moults. I never should venture to resk a bird'shealth, not unless the parties wished it, but they do say it's realhandsome. "

"I should think it very wrong, Penelope, " said Miss Vesta, seriously. "Apart from the question of the dear little creature's health, it wouldshock me very much. It would be like--a--dyeing one's own hair to giveit a different color from what the Lord intended. I am sure you wouldnot seriously think of such a thing. "

"Oh, no'm!" said Miss Penny, guiltily conscious of certain bottles on anupper shelf warranted to "restore gray hair to its youthful gloss andgleam. "

"Well, then, I'll just feed him the Bird Manna, say till Saturday, andby that time he'll be his own beauty self, the handsomest canary inElmerton. Won't he, Darlin'?"

"And I hope Silas Candy is prepared to answer for it at the JudgmentSeat!" said Mrs. Weight, in the doorway of the inner room. "Between himand Mis' Tree that Tommy promises to be fruit for the gallus if ever itbore any. Every sheet on the line with 'Squashnose' wrote on it, and apicture of Isick that anybody would know a mile off, and all in greenpaint. Oh, good morning, Vesta! Why, I thought for sure you must besick; you weren't out to meeting yesterday. "

"No, I was not, " said Miss Vesta, mildly. "I trust you are quite well, Malvina, and that the deacon's rheumatism is giving him less troublelately?"

"If Malviny Weight ain't a case!" chuckled Miss Penny, as the twovisitors left the shop together. "I do admire to see Miss Vesta handleher, so pretty and polite, and yet with the tips of her fingers, likeshe would a dusty chair. There! what was I sayin' the other day? TheBlyth girls is ladies, and Malviny Weight--"

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

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

CHAPTER VIII. 

A TEA-PARTY

"I wish we might have had William Jaquith as well, " said Miss Vesta. "Itwould have pleased Mary, and every one says he is doing so well. "

"I am quite as well satisfied as it is, my dear Vesta, " replied MissPhoebe. "Let me see; one, two, three--six cups and saucers, if youplease; the gold-sprigged ones, and the plates to match. I think it isjust as well not to have William Jaquith. I rejoice in his reform, andtrust it will be as permanent as it is apparently sincere; but with Mr. And Mrs. Bliss--no, Vesta, I feel that the combination would hardly havebeen suitable. Besides, he and Cousin Homer could not both leave theoffice at once, so early in the evening. "

"That is true, " said Miss Vesta. "Which bowl shall we use for the winejelly, Sister Phoebe? I think the color shows best in this plain onewith the gold stars; or do you prefer the heavy fluted one?"

The little lady was perched on the pantry-steps, and looked anxiouslydown at Miss Phoebe, who, comfortably seated, on account of herrheumatism, was vainly endeavoring to find a speck of dust on cup ordish. 

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

"I sometimes fear that cut glass is a snare, Vesta. The pride of theeye! I tremble, when I look at all these dishes. "

"Surely, Sister Phoebe, " said Miss Vesta, gently, "there can be noharm in admiring beautiful things. The Lord gave us the sense of beauty, and I have always counted it one of his choicest mercies. "

"Yes, Vesta; but Satan is full of wiles. I have not your disposition, and when I look at these shelves I am distinctly conscious that there isno such glass in Elmerton, perhaps none in the State. In china AuntMarcia surpasses us, --naturally, having all the Tree china, and most ofthe Darracott; I have always felt that we have less Darracott china thanis ours by right, --but in glass we stand alone. At times I feel that itmay be my duty to give away, or sell for the benefit of the heathen, allsave the few pieces which we actually need. "

"Surely, Sister Phoebe, you would not do that!" said Miss Vesta, aghast. "Think of all the associations! Four generations of cut glass!"

"No, Vesta, I would not, " said Miss Phoebe, sadly; "and that shows thesnare plainly, and my feet in it. We are perishable clay! Suppose we putthe cream in the gold-ribbed glass pitcher to-night, instead of thesilver one; it will go better with the gold-sprigged cups. After all, for whom should we display our choicest possessions if not for ourpastor?"

Little Mr. Bliss, the new minister, was not observant, and beyond avague sense of comfort and pleasure, knew nothing of the exquisitefeatures of Miss Phoebe's tea-table. His wife did, however, and as shesaid afterward, felt better every time the delicate porcelain of herteacup touched her lips. Mrs. Bliss had the tastes of a duchess, and wasbeginning life on a salary of five hundred dollars a year and a house. Doctor Stedman and Mr. Homer Hollopeter, too, appreciated the daintyservice of the Temple of Vesta, each in his own way; and a pleasantcheerfulness shone in the faces of all as Diploma Crotty handed roundher incomparable Sally Lunns, with a muttered assurance to each guestthat she did not expect they were fit to eat. 

"Phoebe, " said Doctor Stedman, "I never can feel more than ten yearsold when I sit down at this table. I hope you have put me--yes, this ismy place. Here is the mark. You set this table, Vesta?"

Miss Vesta blushed, the blush of a white rose at sunset. 

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

"You see this dent?" said Doctor Stedman, addressing his neighbor, Mrs. Bliss; "I made that when I was ten years old. I used to be here a greatdeal, playing with Nathaniel, Miss Blyth's brother, and we were alwayscautioned not to touch this table. It was always, as you see it now, ashining mirror, and every time a little warm paw was laid on it, it lefta mark. This, however, was not explained to us. We were simply told thatif we touched that table, something would happen; and when we askedwhat, the reply was, 'You'll find 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 was possessed to find out what wouldhappen if I touched the table. Once or twice I secretly laid the tip ofa finger on it, when I was alone in the room; but nothing coming of it, I decided that a stronger touch was needed to bring the 'something' topass. There used to be a little ivory mallet that belonged to the Indiangong--ah, yes, there it is! I remember as if it were yesterday themoment when, finding myself alone in the room, I felt that myopportunity had come. I caught up the mallet and gave a sounding bang onthe sacred mahogany; then waited to see what would happen. Then MissTimothea came in, and I found out. She did it with a slipper, and Ispent most of the next week standing up. "

"Our Aunt Timothea Darracott was the guardian of our childhood, " MissPhoebe explained to Mrs. Bliss. "She was an austere, but exemplaryperson. We derived great benefit from her ministrations, which were mostdevoted. A well-behaved child had little to fear from Aunt Timothea. "

"You must not give our friends a false impression of James's childhood, Sister Phoebe, " said Miss Vesta, looking up with the expression of avalorous dove. "He was far from being an unruly child as a generalthing, though of course it was a pity about the table. "

"Thank you, Vesta!" said Doctor Stedman. "But I am afraid I often gotNat into mischief. Do you remember your Uncle Tree's spankstick, Phoebe?"

"Shall we perhaps change the subject?" said Miss Phoebe, with blandseverity. "It is hardly suited to the social board. Cousin Homer, may Igive you a little more of the chicken, or will you have some oysters?"

"A--it is immaterial, I am obliged to you, Cousin Phoebe, " said Mr. Homer Hollopeter, looking up with the air of one suddenly awakened. "Theinner man has been abundantly refreshed, I thank you. "

"The inner man was making a sonnet, Phoebe, and you have cruellyinterrupted him, " said Doctor Stedman, not without a gleam of friendlymalice. 

"Not a sonnet, James, this time, " said Mr. Homer, coloring. "A few lineswere, I confess, shaping themselves in my mind; it is very apt to be thecase, when my surroundings are so gracious--so harmonious--I may say soinspiring, as at the present moment. "

He waved his hands over the table, whose general effect was of crystaland gold, cream and honey, shining on the dark 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 of poetry to save my life, but if Icould, I am sure it would be about this table, Miss Blyth. It _is_ theprettiest table I ever saw, and the prettiest setting. "

Miss Phoebe looked pleased. 

"It is a Darracott table, " she said. "My aunt, Mrs. Tree, has the mateto it. They were saved when Darracott House was burned, and naturally wevalue them highly. I believe they formed part of the original furnishingbrought over from England by James Lysander James Darracott in 1642. Itis a matter of rivalry between our good Diploma Crotty and her aunt, Mrs. Tree's domestic, as to which table is in the more perfectcondition. Mrs. Tree's table has no dent in it--"

"Ah, Phoebe, I shall carry that dent to my grave with me!" said DoctorStedman, with a twinkle in his gray eyes. "You will never forgive it, Isee. "

"On the contrary, James, I forgave it long ago, " said Miss Phoebe, graciously. "I was about to remark that though the other table has nodent, it has a scratch, made by Jocko in his youth, which years of laborhave failed to efface. To my mind, the scratch is more noticeable thanthe dent, though both are to be regretted. Mr. Bliss, you are eatingnothing. I beg you will allow me to give you a little honey! It is madeby our own bees, and I think I can conscientiously recommend it. Alittle cream, you will find, takes off the edge of the sweet, and makesit more palatable. "

"Miss Blyth, you must not give us too many good things, " said the littleminister, shaking his head, but holding out his plate none the less. "Thank you! thank you! most delicious, I am sure. I only hope it is nota snare of the flesh, Miss Phoebe. "

He spoke merrily, in full enjoyment of his first spoonful of honey--notthe colorless, flavorless white clover variety, but the goldenrod honey, rich and full in color and flavor. He smiled as he spoke, but MissPhoebe looked grave. 

"I trust not, indeed, Mr. Bliss, " she said. "It would ill become mysister and me to lay snares of any kind for your feet. I always feel, however, that milk, or cream, and honey, being as it were natural giftsof a bounteous Providence, and frequently mentioned in the Scriptures, may be partaken of in moderation without fear of over-indulgence ofsinful appetites. A little more? Another pound cake, Mrs. Bliss? No?Then shall we return to the parlor?"

"You spoke of your aunt, Mrs. Tree, Miss Blyth, " said Mr. Bliss, whenthey were seated in the pleasant, shining parlor of the Temple of Vesta, the red curtains drawn, the fire crackling its usual cordial welcome. 

"She is a--a singularly interesting person. What vivacity! whatreadiness! what a fund of information on a variety of subjects! She putme to the blush a dozen times in a talk I had with her recently. "

"Have you been able to have any serious conversation with my aunt, Mr. Bliss?" asked Miss Phoebe, with a slight indication of frost in hertone. "I should be truly rejoiced to hear that such was the case. "

"A--well, perhaps not exactly serious, " owned the little minister, smiling and blushing. "In fact, "--here he caught his wife's eye, andchecked himself--"in fact, --a--she is an extremely interesting person!"he concluded, lamely. 

"Now, John, why should you stop?" cried Mrs. Bliss. "Mrs. Tree is theMiss Blyths' own aunt, and they must know her ever so much better thanwe do. She was just as funny as she could be, Miss Blyth. Deacon Weighthad asked Mr. Bliss to call and reason with her on spiritualmatters, --'wrestle' was what he said, but John told him he was nowrestler, --and so he went and tried; but he had hardly said a word--hadyou, John?--when Mrs. Tree asked him which he liked best, Shakespeare orthe musical glasses--what _do_ you suppose she meant, Miss Vesta? Andwhen he said Shakespeare, of course, she began talking about Hamlet, andMacready, and Mrs. Siddons, who gave her an orange when she was a littlegirl, and he never got in another word, did you, John? And Deacon Weightwas so put out when he heard about it! I'm gl--"

"Marietta, my love!" remonstrated Mr. Bliss, hastily, "you forgetyourself. Deacon Weight is our senior deacon. "

"I'm sorry, John! but Mrs. Tree _is_ just as kind as she can be, " thelittle wife went on, her eyes kindling as she spoke. "Oh!--no, I won'ttell, John; you needn't be afraid. Why, she said that if I told shewould set the parrot on me, and she meant it. That bird frightens me outof my wits. But she _is_ kind, and I never shall forget all she has donefor us. "

"I understand that you are a poet, sir, " the minister said, turning toMr. Homer Hollopeter, and evidently desirous of changing the subject. "May I ask if the sonnet is your favorite form of verse?"

Mr. Homer bridled and colored. 

"A--not at present, sir, " he replied, modestly. "For some years Idid feel that my--a--genius, if I may call it so, moved most freelyin the fetters of the sonnet; but of late I have thought it well toseek--to employ--to--a--avail myself of the various forms in whichthe Muse enshrines herself. It--gives, if I may so express myself, more breadth of wing; more scope; more freedom; more"--he waved hishands--"circumambiency!"

His hand went with a fluttering motion to his pocket. 

"I am sure, Cousin Homer, " said Miss Vesta, "our friends would be gladto hear some of your poetry, if you happen to have any with you. "

"Very glad, " echoed Mr. And Mrs. Bliss, heartily. Doctor Stedman, aftera thoughtful glance at the door, and another at the clock, --but it wasonly seven, --settled himself resignedly in his chair and said, "Fireaway, 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 sodesired, I might read these few lines to the choice circle beforewhom--or more properly which--I find myself this evening. An episode hasrecently occurred in our--a--midst, Mrs. Bliss, which is of deepinterest to us Elmertonians. The return of a youth, always cherished, but--shall I say, Cousin Phoebe, a temporary estray fromthe--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 be justified. Proceed, if youplease. We are all attention. "

Mr. Homer unfolded his paper, and opened his lips to read; but someuneasiness seemed to strike him. He moved in his seat, as if missingsomething, and glanced round the room. His eye fell and rested on MissPhoebe, sitting erect and rigid--in the rocking-chair, _his_rocking-chair! Miss Phoebe would not have rocked a quarter of an inchfor a fortune; every line of her figure protested against its beingsupposed possible that she _could_ rock in company; but there she sat, and her seat was firm as the enduring hills. 

Mr. Homer sighed; pushed his chair back a little, only to find its legswholly uncompromising--and read as follows:

"LINES ON THE RETURN OF A YOUTHFUL AND VALUED FRIEND. 

 "Our beloved William Jaquith Has resolved henceforth to break with Devious ways; And returning to his mother Vows he will have ne'er another All his days. 

 "Husk of swine did not him nourish; Plant of Virtue could not flourish Far from home; So his heart with longing burnèd, And his feet with speed returnèd To its dome. 

 "Welcome, William, to our village! Peaceful dwell, devoid of pillage, Cherished son! On her sightless steps attendant, Wear a crown of light resplendent, Duty done!"

There was a soft murmur of appreciation from Miss Vesta and Mrs. Bliss, followed by silence. Mr. Homer glanced anxiously at Miss Phoebe. 

"I should be glad of your opinion as to the third line, CousinPhoebe, " he said. "I had it 'Satan's ways, ' in my first draught, butthe expression appeared strong, especially for this choice circle, so Isubstituted 'devious' as being more gentle, more mild, more--a"--hewaved his hands--"more devoid of elements likely to produce discord inthe mind. "

"Quite so, Cousin Homer!" replied Miss Phoebe, with a stately bend ofher head. "I congratulate you upon the alteration. Satan has no place inan Elmerton parlor, especially when honored by the presence of itspastor. "

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 forsomething she had left behind. Wherever one looked was gold: gold ofmaple and elm leaves, gold of late-lingering flowers, gold ofclose-shorn fields. Over and in and through it all, airy gold ofquivering, dancing sunbeams. 

No spot in all Elmerton was brighter than Mrs. Tree's garden, which tookthe morning sun full in the face. Here were plenty of flowers still, marigolds, coreopsis, and chrysanthemums, all drinking in the sun-goldand giving it out again, till the whole place quivered with light andwarmth. 

[Illustration: "'CAREFUL WITH THAT BRIDE BLUSH, WILLY. '"]

Mrs. Tree, clad in an antique fur-trimmed pelisse, with an amazinggarden hat surmounting her cap, sat in a hooded wicker chair on theporch talking to William Jaquith, who was tying up roses and coveringthem with straw. 

"Yes; such things mostly go crisscross, " she was saying. "Careful withthat Bride Blush, Willy; that young scamp of a Geoffrey Strong gave itto me, and I suppose I shall have to tend it the rest of my days. Humph!pity you didn't know him; he might have done something for that cough. He got the girl he wanted, but more often they don't. Look at JamesStedman! and there's Homer Hollopeter has been in love with Mary Ashtonever since he was in petticoats. "

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

"She wasn't your mother when he began!" said the old lady, tartly. "Hecouldn't foresee that she was going to be, could he? If he had he mighthave asked your permission. She preferred George Jaquith, naturally. Women mostly prefer a handsome scamp. Not that Homer ever looked likeanything but a sheep. Then there was Lily Bent--"

She broke off suddenly. "You're tying that all crooked, Will Jaquith. I'll come and do it myself if you can't do better than that. "

"I'll have it right in a moment, Mrs. Tree. You were saying--somethingabout Lily Bent?"

"There are half a dozen lilies bent almost double!" Mrs. Tree declared, peevishly. "Careless! I paid five dollars for that Golden Lily, youngman, and you handle it as if it were a yellow turnip. "

"Mrs. Tree!"

"Well, what is it? It's time for me to have my nap, I expect. "

"Mrs. Tree, "--the young man's voice was earnest and pleading, --"Ibrought you a letter from Lily Bent this morning. I have been waiting--Iwant to hear something about her. I know she has been an angel oftenderness and goodness to my mother ever since--why does she stay awayso long?"

"Because she's having a good time, I suppose, " said Mrs. Tree, dryly. "She's been tied close enough these last three years, what with hergrandmother and--one thing and another. The old woman's dead now, andsmall loss. Everybody's dead, I believe, except me and a parcel of sillychildren. I forget what you said became of that--of your wife after sheleft you. "

"She died, " said Jaquith, abstractedly. "Didn't I tell you? They wentSouth, and she took yellow fever. It was only a month after--"

"No, you did not!" cried Mrs. Tree, sitting bolt upright. "You nevertold me a word, Willy Jaquith. What Providence was thinking of when itmade this generation, passes me to conceive. If I couldn't make a betterone out of fish-glue and calico, I'd give up. Bah! I've no patience withyou. "

She struck her stick sharply on the floor, and her little handstrembled. 

"I am sorry we don't amount to more, " said Jaquith, smiling, "But--Ithink my glue is hardening, Mrs. Tree. Tell me where Lily Bent is, that's a dear good soul, and why she stays away so long. "

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

"You cannot, and my mother will not, " repeated William Jaquith, slowly. "And there is no one else I can or will ask. Why can you not tell me, Mrs. Tree? I think you have no right to refuse me so much information. "

"Because I promised not to tell you!" cried Mrs. Tree. "There! don'tspeak to me, or I shall go into a caniption! If I had known, I neverwould have promised. I never made a promise yet that I wasn't sorry for. Dear me, Sirs! I wonder if ever anybody was so pestered as I am. 

"There! there's James Stedman. Call him over here! and don't you speak aword to me, Willy Jaquith, but finish those plants, if you are evergoing to. "

Obeying Jaquith's hail, Doctor Stedman, who had been for passing with abow and a wave of the hand, turned and came up the garden walk. 

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

"What do you want of me, Mrs. Tree?" asked Doctor Stedman, laughing, andshaking the little brown hand held out to him. "I'll come once a week, if you don't take care, and then what would you say? What do you want ofme, my lady?"

"I don't want my bones crushed, just for the sake of giving you the jobof mending them, " said the old lady. "I'd as lief shake paws with agrizzly bear. You are getting to look rather like one, my poor James. I've always told you that if you would only shave, you might have abetter chance--but never mind about that now. You were wanting to knowwhere 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 oughtto be ashamed of yourself. She is staying with George Greenwell's folks, over at Parsonsbridge; his wife was her father's sister, a wall-eyedwoman with crockery teeth. George Greenwell, Parsonsbridge, do youhear? There! now I must go and take my nap, and plague take everybody, Isay. Good morning to you!"

Rising from her seat with amazing celerity, she whisked into the housebefore Doctor Stedman's astonished eyes, and closed the door smartlyafter her. 

With a low whistle, Doctor Stedman turned to William Jaquith. 

"Our old friend seems agitated, " he said. "What has happened to distressher?"

Jaquith made no reply. He was tying up a rosebush with shaking fingers, and his usually pale face was flushed, perhaps with exertion. 

Doctor Stedman's bushy eyebrows came together. 

"Hum!" he said, half aloud. "Lily Bent! why, --ha! yes. How is yourmother, Will? I have not seen her for some time. "

"She's very well, thank you, sir!" said Will Jaquith, hurrying on hiscoat, and gathering up his gardening tools. "If you will excuse me, Doctor Stedman, I must get back to the office; Mr. Homer will be lookingfor me; he gave me this hour off, to see to Mrs. Tree's roses. Goodday. "

"Now, what is going on here?" said James Stedman to himself, as, stillstanding on the porch, he watched the young man going off down thestreet with long strides. "The air is full of mystery--and prickles. Andwhy is Lily Bent--pretty creature! Why, I haven't seen her since I cameback, haven't laid eyes on her! Why is she brought into it? H'm! let mesee! Wasn't there a boy and girl attachment between her and WillyJaquith? To be sure there was! I can see them now going to schooltogether, he carrying her satchel. Then--she had a long bout of slowfever, I remember. Pottle attended her, and it's a wonder--h'm! Butwasn't that about the time when that little witch, Ada Vere, came here, and turned both the boys' heads, and carried off poor Willy, and halfbroke Arthur's heart? H'm! Well, I don't know what I can do about it. Hum! pretty it all looks here! If there isn't the strawberry bush, grownout of all knowledge! We were big children, Vesta and I, before we gaveup hoping that it would bear strawberries. How we used to play here!"

His eyes wandered about the pleasant place, resting with friendlyrecognition on every knotty shrub and ancient vine. 

"The snowball is grown a great tree. How long is it since I have reallybeen in this garden? Passing through in a hurry, one doesn't see things. That must be the rose-flowered hawthorn. My dear little Vesta! I can seeher now with the wreath I made for her one day. She was a little pinkrose then under the rosy wreath; now she is a white one, but more arose than ever. Whom have we here?"

A wagon had drawn up by the garden gate with two sleepy white horses. Abrown, white-bearded face was turned toward the doctor. 

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

"Nobody else, Mr. Butters! What is the good word with you? Are youcoming in, or shall I--"

But Mr. Ithuriel Butters was already clambering down from his seat, andnow came up the garden walk carrying a parcel in his hand. An old man ofpatriarchal height and build, with hair and beard to match. Dress him inflowing robes or in armor of brass and you would have had Abraham or achief of the Maccabees, "'cordin' to, " as he would have said. As it was, he was Old Man Butters of the Butterses Lane Ro'd, Shellback. 

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

"Wal, you've been in furrin parts sence I see ye. I expected you'd comeback some kind of outlandishman, but I don't see but you look as nat'ralas nails in a door. Ben all over, hey? Seen the hull consarn?"

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

"See anything to beat the State of Maine?"

"I think not. No, certainly not. "

"Take fall weather in the State of Maine, " said Mr. Butters, slowly, hiseyes roving about the sunlit garden; "take it when it's good--when it_is_ good--it's _good_, sometimes! Not but what I've thought myself Ishould like to see furrin parts before I go. Don't want to appearignorant where I'm goin', you understand. Mis' Tree to home, I presumelikely?"

"Yes, she is at home, Mr. Butters, but I have an idea she is lying downjust now. Perhaps in half an hour--"

"Nothing of the sort!" said a voice like the click of castanets; andhere was Mrs. Tree again, pelisse, hat, stick, and all. Doctor Stedmanstared. 

"How do you do, Ithuriel?" said Mrs. Tree, in a friendly tone, "I amglad to see you. Sit down on the bench! You may sit down too, James, ifyou like. What brings you in to-day, Ithuriel?"

"I brought some apples in for Blyths's folks, " said Mr. Butters. "And Ibrought you a present, Mis' Tree. "

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

"I ben killin' some gooses lately, " he explained. "The woman allersmeant to send you in a pair o' wings for dusters, but she never gotround to it, so I thought I'd fetch 'em in now. They're kind o' handyround a fireplace. "

The wings were graciously accepted and praised. 

"I was sorry to hear of your wife's death, Ithuriel, " said Mrs. Tree. "Iam told 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 metwith a loss surely in Loviny. "

"Was it sudden?"

"P'ralsis! She only lived two days after she was called, and I was glad, for she'd lost her speech, and no woman can stand that. She knowedthings, you understand, she knowed things, but she couldn't free hermind. 'Loviny, ' I says, 'if you know me, ' I says, 'jam my hand!' Shejammed it, but she never spoke. Yes'm, 'twas a visitation. I dono as Ishall git me another now. "

"Well, I should hope not, Ithuriel Butters!" said Mrs. Tree, with someasperity. "Why, you are nearly as old as I am, you ridiculous creature, and you have had three wives already. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"

"Wal, I dono as I be, Mis' Tree, " said Mr. Butters, sturdily. "Age goesby feelin's, 'pears to me, more'n by Family Bibles. Take the Bible, andyou'd think mebbe I warn't so young as some; but take the way Ifeel--why, I'm as spry as any man of sixty I know, and spryer than mostof 'em. I like the merried state, and it suits me. Men-folks is likepickles, some; women-folks is the brine they're pickled in; they don'tkeep sweet without 'em. Besides, it's terrible lon'some on a farm, now Itell ye, with none but hired help, and them so poor you can't tell 'emfrom the broomstick hardly, except for their eatin'. "

"Where is your stepdaughter? I thought she lived with you. "

"Alviry? She's merried!" Mr. Butters threw his head back with a hugelaugh. "Ain't you heerd about Alviry's gittin' merried, Mis' Tree? Wal, wal!"

He settled back in his seat, and the light of the story-teller came intohis eyes. 

"I expect I'll have to tell you about that. 'Bout six weeks ago--twomonths maybe it was--a man come to the door--back door--and knocked. Alviry peeked through the kitchen winder, --she's terrible skeert oftramps, --and she see 'twas a decent-appearin' man, so she went to thedoor. 

"'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 youwas named, ' he says, 'so I thought I'd come out and see ye. '

"She questioned him, --Alviry's a master hand at questionin', --and hesaid he was a farmer livin' down East Parsonsbridge way; a hundredacres, and a wood-lot, and six cows, and I dono what all. Wal, Alviry'sben kind o' uneasy, and lookin' for a change, for quite a spell back. Isuspicioned she'd be movin' on, fust chance she got. I s'pose shethought mebbe Parsonsbridge butter would churn easier than Shellback; Idono. Anyhow, she said mebbe she'd try it for a spell, and he mightexpect her next week. Wal, sir, --ma'am, I ask your pardon, --he'd got hisanswer, and yet he didn't seem ready to go. He kind o' shuffled hisfeet, Alviry said, and stood round, and passed remarks on the weatherand sich; and she was jest goin' to say she must git back to herironin', when he hums and haws, and says he: 'I dono but 'twould be fullas easy if we was to git merried. I'm a single man, and a goodcharacter. If you've no objections, we might fix it up that way, ' hesays. 

"Wal! Alviry was took aback some at that, and she said she'd have toconsider of it, and ask my advice and all. 'Why, land sake!' she says, 'I don't know what your name is, ' she says, 'let alone marryin' of ye. '

"So he told her his name, --Job Weezer it was; I know his folks; he _has_got a wood-lot, I guess he's all right, --and she said if he'd come backnext day she'd give him his answer. Wal, sir, --ma'am, _I_ shouldsay, --when I come in from milkin' she told me. I laughed till I surelythought I'd shake to pieces; and Alviry sittin' there, as sober as ajedge, not able to see what in time I was laughin' at. 

"Wal, all about it was, he come back next day, and she said yes; andthey was merried in a week's time by Elder Tyson, and off they went. Ibelieve they're doin' well, and both parties satisfied; but if it ain'tthe beat of anything ever I see!"

"It is quite scandalous, if that is what you mean!" said Mrs. Tree. "Inever heard of such heathen doings. "

"That ain't the p'int!" said Mr. Butters, chuckling. "They ain't nospring goslin's, neither one on 'em; old enough to know their own minds. What gits me is, what he see in Alviry!"

CHAPTER X. 

MR. BUTTERS DISCOURSES

After leaving Mrs. Tree's house, Mr. Ithuriel Butters drove slowly alongthe village street toward the post-office. He jerked the reins looselyonce or twice, but for the most part let the horses take their own way;he seemed absorbed in thought, and now and then he shook his head andmuttered to himself, his bright blue eyes twinkling, the humorous linesof his strong old face deepening into smiling furrows. Passing theTemple of Vesta, he looked up sharply at the windows, seemed halfinclined to check his horses; but no one was to be seen, and he let themtake their sleepy way onward. 

"I d'no as 'twould be best, " he said to himself. "Diplomy's a finewoman, I wouldn't ask to see a finer; but there, I d'no how 'tis. Whenyou've had pie you don't hanker after puddin', even when it's goodpuddin'; and Loviny was pie; yes, sir! she was, no mistake; mince, andno temperance mince neither. Guess I'll get along someways the rest ofthe time. Seems as if some of Alviry's talk must have got lodged in thecracks or somewhere; there's ben enough of it these three months. Mebbethat'll last me through. Git ap, you!"

Arrived at the post-office, Mr. Butters quitted his perch once more, andwith a word to the old horses (which they did not hear, being alreadyasleep) made his way into the outer room. Seth Weaver, who was leaningon the ledge of the delivery window, turned and greeted the old mancordially. 

"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's Mother gettin' on, Seth?"

"She's slim, " replied his nephew, "real slim, Mother is. She's bendoctorin' right along, too, but it don't seem to help her any. I'm goin'to get her some new stuff this mornin' that she heard of somewhere. "

"Help her? No, nor it ain't goin' to help her, " said Mr. Butters, withsome heat; "it's goin' to hender her. Parcel o' fools! She's takenenough physic now to pison a four-year-old gander. Don't you get her nomore!"

"Wal, " said Weaver, easily, "I dono as it really henders her any, UncleIthe; and it takes up her mind, gives her something to think about. Shedoctored Father so long, you know, and she's used to messin' with rootsand herbs; and now her sight's failin', I tell ye, come medicine time, she brightens up and goes for it same as if it was new cider. I don'tknow as I feel like denyin' her a portion o' physic, seein' she appearsto crave it. She thought this sounded like good searchin' medicine, too. Them as told her about it said you feel it all through you. "

"I should think you would!" retorted Mr. Butters. "So you would a quartof turpentine if you took and swallered it. "

"Wal, I don't know what else _to_ do, that's the fact!" Weaver admitted. "Mother's slim, I tell ye. I do gredge seein' her grouchin' round, smarta woman as she's ben. "

"You make me think of Sile Stover, out our way, " said Mr. Butters. "Hesets up to be a hoss doctor, ye know; hosses and stock gen'lly. Lastweek he called me in to see a hog that was failin' up. Said he'd doneall he could do, and the critter didn't seem to be gettin' no better, and what did I advise?

"'What have ye done?' says I. 

"'Wal, ' says he, 'I've cut his tail, and drawed two of his teeth, and Idono what else _to_ do, ' he says. Hoss doctor! A clo'es-hoss is the onlykind he knows much about, I calc'late. "

"Wasn't he the man that tried to cure Peckham's cow of the horn ail, bored a hole in her horn and put in salt and pepper, --or was it oil andvinegar?"

Mr. Butters nodded. "Same man! Now that kind of a man will always findfolks enough to listen to him and take up his dum notions. I tell yewhat it is! You can have drought, and you can have caterpillars, and youcan have frost. You can lose your hay crop, and your apple crop, andyour potato crop; but there's one crop there can't nothin' touch, andthat's the fool crop. You can count on that, sartin as sin. I tell ye, Seth, don't you fill your mother up with none of that pison stuff. She'sa good woman, if she did marry a Weaver. "

Seth's eyes twinkled. "Well, Uncle Ithe, seein' you take it so hard, "he said, "I don't mind tellin' you that I'd kind o' thought the matterout for myself; and it 'peared to me that a half a pint o' molassesstirred up with a gre't spoonful o' mustard and a small one of redpepper would look about the same, and taste jest as bad, and wouldn't doher a mite of harm. I ain't all Weaver now, be I?"

Uncle and nephew exchanged a sympathetic chuckle. At this moment Mr. Homer's meek head appeared at the window. 

"There are no letters for you to-day, Mr. Butters, " he said, deprecatingly; "but here is one for Miss Leora Pitcher; she is in yourneighborhood, I believe?"

"Wal, depends upon what you call neighborhood, " Mr. Butters replied. "It's two miles by the medders, and four by the ro'd. "

"Oh!" said Mr. Homer, still more deprecatingly; "I was not aware thatthe distance was so considerable, Mr. Butters. I conceived that MissPitcher's estate and yours were--adjacent;--a--contiguous;--a--in pointof fact, near together. "

"Wal, they ain't, " said Mr. Butters; "but if it's anyways important, mebbe I could fetch a compass round that way. "

"I should be truly grateful if you could do so, Mr. Butters!" said Mr. Homer, eagerly. "I--I feel as if this letter might be of importance, Iconfess. Miss Pitcher has sent in several times by various neighbors, and I have felt an underlying anxiety in her inquiries. I was rejoicedthis morning when the expected letter came. It is--a--in a masculinehand, you will perceive, Mr. Butters, and the postmark is that of thetown to which Miss Pitcher's own letters were sent. I do not wish toseem indelicately intrusive, but I confess it has occurred to me thatthis might be a case of possible misunderstanding; of--a--alienation;of--a--wounding of the tendrils of the heart, gentlemen. To see a youngperson, 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 praiseworthy habit of putting her own name onthe envelope), I have inferred her youth, and a certain timidity of--"

"Wal, she's sixty-five, if she's a day, and she's got a hare-lip and acock-eye. She's uglier than sin, and snugger than eel-skin; one o' themkind that when you prick 'em they bleed sour milk; and what she wants isfor her brother-in-law to send her his wife's clo'es, 'cause he's goin'to marry again. All Shellback's ben talkin' about it these threemonths. "

Mr. Homer colored painfully. 

"Is it so?" he said, dejectedly. "I regret that--that my misconceptionwas so complete. I ask your pardon, Mr. Butters. "

"Nothin' at all, nothin' at all, " said Mr. Butters, briskly, seeing thathe had given pain. "You mustn't think I want to say anything against aneighbor, Homer, but there's no paintin' Leory Pitcher pooty, 'cause sheain't. 

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

"Cousin, Mr. Butters, " said Mr. Homer, still depressed. "Mrs. Tree andmy father were first cousins. A most interesting character, my cousinMarcia, Mr. Butters. "

"Wal, she is so, " responded Mr. Butters, heartily. "She certinly is; benso all her life. Why, sir, I knew Mis' Tree when she was a gal. "

"Sho!" said Seth Weaver, incredulously. 

"Indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Homer, with interest. 

"Yes, sir, I knew her well. She was older than me, some. When I was aboy, say twelve year old, Miss Marshy Darracott was a young lady. Thepick of the country she was, now I tell ye! Some thought Miss Timothywas handsomer, --she was tall, and a fine figger; her and Mis' Blythfavored each other, --but little Miss Marshy was the one for my money. She used to make me think of a hummin'-bird; quick as a flash, here, andthere, gone in a minute, and back again before you could wink. She had alittle black mare she used to ride, Firefly, she called her. Eigh, sirs, to see them two kitin' round the country was a sight, now I tell ye. Irecall one day I was out in the medder behind Darracott House--you knowthat gully that runs the len'th of the ten-acre lot? Well, there used tobe a bridge over that gully, just a footbridge it was, little lightthing, push it over with your hand, seemed as if you could. Wal, sir, Iwas pokin' about the way boys do, huntin' for box-plums, or woodchucks, or nothin' at all, when all of a suddin I heard hoofs and voices, and Islunk in behind a tree, bein' diffident, and scairt of bein' so near thebig house. 

"Next minute they come out into the ro'd, two on 'em, Miss MarshyDarracott and George Tennaker, Squire Tennaker's son, over to Bascom. Hewas a big, red-faced feller, none too well thought of, for all his folkshad ben in the country as long as the Darracotts, or the Butterseseither, for that matter, and he'd ben hangin' round Miss Marshy quite aspell, though she wouldn't have nothin' to say to him. I was in herSabbath-school class, and thought the hull world of her, this one and apiece of the next; and I gredged George Tennaker so much as lookin' ather. Wal, they come along, and he was sayin' something, and sheanswered him short and sharp; I can see her now, her eyes like blackdi'monds, and the red comin' and goin' in her cheeks: she was a picturif ever I seed one. Pooty soon he reached out and co't holt of herbridle. Gre't Isrel, sir! she brought down her whip like a stroke oflightning on his fingers, and he dropped the rein as if it burnt him. Then she whisked round, and across that bridge quicker'n any swallerever you see. It shook like a poplar-tree, but it hadn't no time to fallif it wanted to; she was acrost, and away out of sight before you couldsay 'Simon Peter;' and he set there in the ro'd cussin', and swearin', and suckin' his fingers. I tell ye, 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--you present my venerable relative in a wholly new light. Sheis so--a--so extremely venerable, if I may so express myself, that Iconfess I have never before had an accurate conception of her youth. "

"You thought old folks was born old, " said Mr. Butters, with a chuckle. "Wal, they warn't. They was jest as young as young folks, and oftentimesyounger. Miss Marshy warn't no more than a slip of a girl when shemerried. Come along young Cap'n Tree, jest got his first ship, and theworld in his pants pocket, and said 'Snip!' and she warn't backward withher 'Snap!' I tell ye. Gorry! they were a handsome pair. See 'em comealong the street, you knowed how 'twas meant man and woman should look. For all she was small, Mis' Tree would ha' spread out over a dozen otherwomen, the sperit she had in her; and he was tall enough for both, thecap'n would say. And proud of each other! He'd have laid down goldbricks for her to walk on if he'd had his way. Yes, sir, 'twas a sightto see 'em. 

"There ain't no such young folks nowadays; not but what that youngStrong fellow was well enough; he got a nice gal, too. Wal, sir, thiswon't thresh the oats. I must be gettin' along. Think mebbe there ain'tno sech hurry about that letter for Leory Pitcher, do ye, Homer? I'llkerry it if you say so. "

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

CHAPTER XI. 

MISS PHOEBE PASSES ON

Miss Phoebe Blyth's death came like a bolt from a clear sky. Therheumatism, which had for so many years been her companion, strucksuddenly at her heart. A few hours of anguish, and the stout heart hadceased to beat, the stern yet kindly spirit was gone on its way. 

Great was the grief in the village. If not beloved as Miss Vesta was, Miss Phoebe was venerated by all, as a woman of austere and exaltedpiety and of sterling goodness. All Elmerton went to her funeral, on aclear October day not unlike Miss Phoebe herself, bright, yet touchedwith wholesome frost. All Elmerton went about the rest of the day withhushed voice and sober brow, looking up at the closed shutters of theTemple of Vesta, and wondering how it fared with the gentle priestess, now left alone. The shutters were white and fluted, and being closed, heightened the effect of clean linen which the house alwayspresented--linen starched to the point of perfection, with a dignifiedfrill, but no frivolity of lace or trimming. 

"I do declare, " said Miss Penny Pardon, telling her sister about it all, "the house looked so like Miss Blyth herself, I expected to hear it say, 'Pray step in and be seated!' just like she used to. Elegant mannersMiss Blyth had; and she walked elegant, too, in spite of her rheumatiz. When I see her go past up the street, I always said, 'There goes a lady, let the next be who she will!'"

"Yes, " said Miss Prudence, with a sigh; "if Phoebe Blyth had butdressed as she might, there's no one in Elmerton could have stoodbeside her for style. I've told her so, time and again, but she neverwould hear a word. She was peculiar. "

"There! I expect we're all peculiar, sister, one way or another, " saidMiss Penny, soothingly. This matter of the Blyth girls' dressing wasMiss Prudence's great grievance, and just now it was heightened bycircumstances. 

"Miss Blyth's mind was above clothes, I expect, Prudence, " Miss Pennycontinued. "'Twa'n't that she hadn't every confidence in you, for I'veheard her speak real handsome of your method. "

"A person's mind has no call to be above clothes, " said Miss Prudence, with some asperity. "They are all that stands between us and savages, some think. But I've no wish to cast reflections this day. Miss Blythwas a fine woman, and she is a great loss to this village. But I _do_say she was peculiar, and I'll stand to that with my dying breath; andI do think Vesta shows a want of--"

She stopped abruptly. The shop-bell rang, and Mrs. Weight entered, crimson and panting. She hurried across the shop, and entered thesewing-room before Miss Penny could go to meet her. 

"Well, " she said, "here I am! How do you do, Prudence? You look re'lpoorly. Girls, I've come straight to you. I'm not one to pass by on theother side, never was. I like to sift a thing to the bottom, and get therights of it. I'm not one to spread abroad, but when I do speak, Idesire to speak the truth, and for that truth I have come to you. "

She paused, and fixed a solemn gaze on the two sisters. 

"You'll get it!" said Miss Prudence, a steely glitter coming into hergray 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 Vesta Blyth isn't going to wearmourning for her sole and only sister. I want to know if it's _so_! Youcould have knocked me down with a broom-straw when I see her settin'there in her gray silk dress, for all the world as if we'd come tosewin'-circle instead of a funeral. I don't know when I have had such aturn; I was palpitating all through the prayer. Now I want you to tellme just how 'tis, girls, for, of course, you know--unless she sent overto Cyrus for her things, and they been delayed. I shouldn't hardly havethought she'd have done that, though some say that new dressmaker overthere has all the styles straight from New York. What say?"

"I don't know as I've said anything yet, " said Miss Prudence, withominous calm. "I don't know as I've had a chance. But it's true thatMiss Vesta Blyth don't intend to put on mourning. "

"Well, I--"

For once, words seemed to fail Mrs. Weight, and she gaped upon herhearers open-mouthed; but speech returned quickly. 

"Girls, I would _not_ have believed it, not unless I had seen it withthese eyes. Even so, I supposed most likely there had been some delay. Iasked Mis' Tree as we were comin' out--she spoke pleasant to me for oncein her life, and I knew she must be thinkin' of her own end, and Iwanted to say something, so I says, 'Vesta ain't got her mournin' yet, has she, Mis' Tree?'

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

"I dono what she meant, unless 'twas to give me an idee what highconnections they had, though it ain't likely there's anything of thatsort; I never heerd of any furrin blood in either family: but I see'twas no use tryin' to get anything out of her, so I come straight toyou. And here you tell me--what does it mean, Prudence Pardon? Are we ina Christian country, I want to know, or are we not?"

Miss Prudence knit her brows behind her spectacles. "I don't know, sometimes, whether we are in a Christian country or whether we ain't, "she said, grimly. "Miss Phoebe Blyth didn't approve of mourning, onreligious grounds; and Miss Vesta feels it right to carry out hersister's views. That's all there is to it, I expect; I expect it's theirbusiness, too, and not other folks'. "

"Miss Phoebe thought mournin' wa'n't a Christian custom, " said MissPenny. "I've heard her say so; and that 'twas payin' too much respect tothe perishin' flesh. We don't feel that way, Sister an' me, but them washer views, and she was a consistent, practical Christian, if ever I seeone. I don't think it strange, for my part, that Miss Vesta should wishto do as was desired, though very likely her own feelin's may have bendifferent. She would be a perfect pictur' in a bunnet and veil, though Idono as she could look any prettier than what she did to-day. "

"If I could have the dressin' of Vesta Blyth as she should be dressed, "said Miss Prudence, solemnly, "there's no one in this village--I'll gofurther, and say county--that could touch her. She hasn't the style ofPhoebe, but--there! there's like a light round her when she moves; Idon't know how else to put it. It's like stickin' the scissors into meevery time I cut them low shoulders for her. I always did despise a lowshoulder, long before I ever thought I should be cuttin' of 'em. "

"Well, girls, " said Mrs. Weight, "you may make the best of it, and it'shandsome in you, I will say, Prudence, for of course you naturallylooked to have the cuttin', and I suppose all dressmakers get somethingextry for mournin', seein' it's a necessity, or is thought so by mostChristian people. But I am the wife of the senior deacon of the parishwherein she sits, and I feel a call to speak to Vesta Blyth before Isleep this night. Our pastor's wife is young, and though I am aware shemeans well, she hasn't the stren'th nor yet the faculty to deal withfolks as is older than herself on spiritual matters; so I feel it laidupon me--"

"I thought it was clothes you was talkin' about, " said Miss Prudence, and she closed her scissors with a snap. "I hope you'll excuse me, Mis'Weight, but you speakin' to Vesta Blyth about spiritual matters seems tome jest a leetle mite like a hen teachin' a swallow to fly. "

 * * * * *

While this talk was going on, little Miss Vesta, in her gray gown andwhite kerchief, was moving softly about the lower rooms of the Templeof Vesta, setting the chairs in their accustomed places, passing a silkcloth across their backs in case of finger-marks, looking anxiously forspecks of dust on the shining tables and whatnots, putting fresh flowersin the vases. Some well-meaning but uncomprehending friends had sentso-called "funeral flowers, " purple and white; to these Miss Vesta addedevery glory of yellow, every blaze of lingering scarlet, that the gardenafforded. She threw open the shutters, and let the afternoon sun streaminto the darkened rooms. 

Diploma Crotty, standing in a corner, her hands folded in her apron, hereyes swollen with weeping, watched with growing anxiety the slightfigure that seemed to waver as it moved from very fatigue. 

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

"No, I thank you, Diploma, " said Miss Vesta, quietly; and she added, with a soft hurry in her voice, "And if you would please not to call meMiss Blyth, my good Diploma, I should be grateful to you. Say 'MissVesta, ' as usual, if you please. I desire--let us keep things as theyhave been--as they have been. My beloved sister has gone away"--the softeven voice quivered, but did not break--"gone away, but not far. I amsure I need not ask you, Diploma, to help me in keeping everything as mydear sister would like best to have it. You know so well about almostevery particular; but--she preferred to have the tidies straight, notcornerwise. You will not feel hurt, I am sure, if I alter them. They arebeautifully done up, Diploma; it would be a real pleasure to my dearsister to see them. "

"I knew they were on wrong, " said the handmaid, proceeding to aid inchanging the position of the delicate crocheted squares. "Mis' Blisswanted to do something to help, --she's real good, --and I had them justdone up, and thought she couldn't do much harm with 'em. There! I knewDeacon Weight wouldn't rest easy till he got his down under him. He'sgot it all scrunched up, settin' on it. It doos beat all how that manrouts round in his cheer. "

"Hush, Diploma! I must ask you not to speak so, " said Miss Vesta. "Deacon Weight is an officer of the church. I fear he may have chosen achair not sufficiently ample for his person. There, that will do nicely!Now I think the room looks quite as my dear sister would wish to see it. Does it not seem so to you, Diploma?"

"The room's all right, " said Diploma, gruffly; "but if Miss Blyth washere, she'd tell you to go and lay down this minute, Miss Vesty, and soI bid you do. You're as white and scrunched as that tidy. No wonder, after settin' up these two nights, and all you've ben through. I wishto goodness Doctor Strong had ben here; he'd have made you get a nurse, whether or whethern't. Doctor Stedman ain't got half the say-so to himthat Doctor Strong has. "

"You are mistaken, Diploma!" said Miss Vesta, blushing. "Doctor Stedmanspoke strongly, very strongly indeed. He was very firm on the point;indeed, he became incensed about it, but it was not a point on which Icould give way. My dear sister always said that no hireling should evertouch her person, and I consider it one of my crowning mercies that Iwas able to care for her to the last; with your help, my dear Diploma! Icould not have done it without your help. I beg you to believe how trulygrateful I am to you for your devotion. "

"Well, there ain't no need, goodness knows!" grumbled Diploma Crotty, "but if so you be, you'll go and lay down now, Miss Vesty, like a goodgirl. There! there's Mis' Weight comin' up the steps this minute oftime. I'll go and tell her you're on the bed and can't see her. "

Was it Miss Vesta, gentle Miss Vesta, who answered? It might have beenMiss Phoebe, with head erect and flashing eyes 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 tocall at this house to-day on any pretence whatever. My dear sister wouldhave been highly incensed at such a breach of propriety. I--" the firefaded, and the little figure drooped, wavered, rested for a moment onthe arm of the faithful servant. "I thank you, my good Diploma. I willgo and lie down now, as you thoughtfully suggest. "

CHAPTER XII. 

THE PEAK IN DARIEN

 Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken: Or like stout Cortez, when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific, and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise-- Silent, upon a peak in Darien. 

 --_John Keats. _

Behind the yellow walls of the post-office Mr. Homer Hollopeter mourneddeeply and sincerely for his cousin. The little room devoted tocollecting and dispensing the United States mail, formerly a dingy andsordid den, had become, through Mr. Homer's efforts, cheerfully secondedby those of Will Jaquith, a little temple of shining neatness, whereeven Miss Phoebe's or Miss Vesta's dainty feet might have trodwithout fear of pollution. It was more like home to Mr. Homer than thebare little room where he slept, and now that it was his own, hedelighted in dusting, polishing, and cleaning, as a woman might havedone. The walls were brightly whitewashed, and adorned with portraits ofKeats and Shelley; on brackets in two opposite corners Homer andShakespeare gazed at each other with mutual approval. The stove wasblack and glossy as an Ashantee chief, and the clock, once an unsightlymass of fly-specks and cobwebs, now showed a white front as immaculateas Mr. Homer's own. Opposite the clock hung a large photograph, in ahandsome gilt frame, of a mountain peak towering alone against a clearsky. 

When Mr. Homer entered the post-office the day after Miss Phoebe'sfuneral, he carried in his hand a fine wreath of ground pine tied witha purple ribbon, and this wreath he proceeded to hang over the mountainpicture. Will Jaquith watched him with wondering sympathy. The littlegentleman's eyes were red, and his hands trembled. 

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

But Mr. Homer waved him off, gently but decidedly. 

"I thank you, William, I thank you!" he said, "but I prefer to performthis action myself. It is--a tribute, sir, to an admirable woman. I wishto pay it in person; in person. "

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

"I think that looks well, " he said. "My fingers are unaccustomed totwine any garlands save those of--a--song; but I think that looks well, William?"

"Very well, sir!" said Will, heartily. "It is a very handsome wreath;and how pretty the green looks against the gold!"

"The green is emblematic; it is the color of memory, " said Mr. Homer. "This wreath, though comparatively enduring, will fade, William;will--a--wither; will--a--become dessicated in the natural process ofdecay; but the memory of my beloved cousin will endure, sir, in onefaithful heart, while that heart continues to--beat; to--throb;to--a--palpitate. "

He was silent for a few minutes, gazing at the picture; then hecontinued:

"I had hoped, " he said, sadly, "that at some date in the near future mydear cousin would have condescended to visit our--retreat, William, andhave favored it with the seal of her approval. I venture to think thatshe would have found its conditions improved; ameliorated--a--renderedmore in accordance with the ideal. But it was not to be, sir, it wasnot to be. As the lamented Keats observes, 'The Spirit mourn'd "Adieu!"'She is gone, sir; gone!"

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

Mr. Homer was silent, his eyes still fixed on the picture. Jaquith, thinking he had not heard, repeated the question. 

"I heard you, William, I heard you!" said Mr. Homer, with dignity. "Iwas considering what reply to make to you. That picture, sir, representsa Peak in Darien. "

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

Mr. Homer waved his hands with a vague gesture. 

"I do not know its name!" he said, "Therefore I expressly said, _a_peak. I do not even know that this special mountain _is_ in Darien, though I consider it so; I consider it so. The picture, William, is asymbolical one--to me. It represents--a--Woman. "

"Woman!" repeated Jaquith, puzzled. 

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

"I pay to-day, as I have told you, my young friend, a tribute to oneadmirable woman; but the Peak in Darien symbolizes--a--Woman, ingeneral. Without Woman, sir, what, or where, should we be? Until weattain a knowledge of--a--Woman, through the medium of the--a--Passion(I speak of it with reverence!), what, or where are we? We journey overarid plains, we flounder in treacherous quagmires. Suddenly looms beforeus, clear against the sky, as here represented, the Peak inDarien--Woman! Guided by the--a--Passion (I speak of its lofty phases, sir, its lofty phases!), we scale those crystal heights. It may be infancy only; it may be that circumstances over which we have no controlforbid our ever setting an actual foot on even the bases of the Peak;but this is a case in which fancy is superior to fact. In fancy, wescale those heights; and--and we stare at the Pacific, sir, and look ateach other with a wild surmise--silent, sir, silent, upon a Peak inDarien!"

Mr. Homer said no more, but stood gazing at his picture, rapt incontemplation. Jaquith was silent, too, watching him, half in amusement, half--or more than half--in something not unlike reverence. Mr. Homerwas not an imposing figure: his back was long, his legs were short, hishair and nose were distinctly absurd; but now, the homely face seemedtransfigured, irradiated by an inward glow of feeling. 

Jaquith recalled Mrs. Tree's words. Had this quaint little gentlemanreally been in love with his beautiful mother? Poor Mr. Homer! It wasvery funny, but it was pathetic, too. Poor Mr. Homer!

The young man's thoughts ran on swiftly. The Peak in Darien! Well, thatwas all true. Only, how if--unconsciously he spoke aloud, his eyes onthe picture--"How if a man were misled for a time by--I shall have tomix my metaphors, Mr. Homer--by a will-o'-the-wisp, and fell into thequagmire, and lost sight of his mountain for a time, only to find itagain, more lovely than--would he have any right to--what was it yousaid, sir?--to try once more to scale those crystal heights?"

"Undoubtedly he would!" said Mr. Homer Hollopeter. "Undoubtedly, if hewere sure of himself, sure that no false light--I perceive the mixtureof metaphors, but this cannot always be avoided--would again fallacross his path. "

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

He had risen, and the two men were standing side by side, both intentupon the picture. Twilight was falling, but a ray of the setting sunstole through the little window, and rested upon the Peak in Darien. 

"He is sure of that!" repeated William Jaquith. 

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

"Mr. Homer" (no one ever said "Mr. Hollopeter, " nor would he have beenpleased if any one had), "I have been here six months, have I not? sixmonths to-morrow?"

"Yes, William, " said Mr. Homer, turning his 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, yourassiduity, leave nothing to be desired. This has been a greatgratification to me--on many accounts. "

"Then, you--you think I have the right to call myself a man once more;that I have the right to take up a man's life, its joys, as well as itslabors?"

"I think so, most emphatically, " cried the little gentleman, nodding hishead. "I think you deserve the best that life has to give. "

"Then--then, Mr. Homer, may I have a day off to-morrow, please? Iwant"--he broke into a tremulous laugh, and laid his hand on the elderman's shoulder, --"I want to climb the Peak, Mr. Homer!"

 * * * * *

So it came to pass one day, soon after this, that as Mrs. Tree wassitting by her fire, with the parrot dozing on his perch beside her, there came to the house two young people, who entered without knock orring, and coming hand in hand to her side, bent down, not saying a word, and kissed her. 

"Highty tighty!" cried Mrs. Tree, her eyes twinkling very brightly undera tremendous frown. 

"What is the meaning of all this, I should like to know? How dare youkiss me, Willy Jaquith?"

"Old friends to love!" said Jocko, opening one yellow eye, and rufflinghis feathers knowingly. 

"Jocko knows how I dare!" said Will Jaquith. "Dear old friend, I willtell you what it means. It means that I have brought you another GoldenLily in place of the one you said I spoiled. You can only have her tolook at, though, for she is mine, mine and my mother's, and we cannotgive 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 was erect, immovable. "I didn't tellhim, but I never promised not to tell James Stedman, you know I neverdid. "

The lovely, dark-eyed girl bent over her and kissed the withered cheekagain. 

"My dear! my naughty, wicked, delightful dear, " she murmured, "how shallI 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 ofthe ancient carryall. 

"To Miss Dane's!"

"Well, I snum!" said old Anthony. 

The Dane Mansion, as it was called, stood on the outskirts of thevillage; a gaunt, gray house, standing well back from the road, withdark hedges of Norway spruce drawn about it like a funeral scarf. Thepanelled wooden shutters of the front windows were never opened, and astranger passing by would have thought the house uninhabited; but allElmerton knew that behind those darkling hedges and close shutters, somewhere in the depths of the tall many-chimneyed house, lived--"if youcan call it living!" Mrs. Tree said--Miss Virginia Dane. Miss Dane was acontemporary of Mrs. Tree's, --indeed, report would have her some yearsolder, --but she had no other point 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, theboys and girls who passed the outer hedge, if dusk were coming on, withhurried step and quick affrighted glances, she was a kind of spectre, aliving phantom of the past, probably terrible to look upon, certainlydreadful to think of. These terrors were heightened by the knowledge, diffused one hardly knew how, that Miss Dane was a spiritualist, andthat in her belief at least, the silent house was peopled with departedDanes, the brothers and sisters of whom she was the last remaining one. 

Things being thus, it was perhaps not strange that old Anthony, usuallythe most discreet of choremen, was driven by surprise to the extent of"snumming" by the order he received. He allowed himself no furthercomment, however, but flecked the fat brown horse on the ear with hiswhip, and said "Gitty up!" with more interest than he usuallymanifested. 

Mrs. Tree was arrayed in her India shawl, and crowned with thebird-of-paradise bonnet, from which swept an ample veil of black lace. She sat bolt upright in the carriage, her stick firmly planted in frontof her, her hands crossed on its crutch handle, and her whole air wasone of uncompromising energy. 

"Shall I knock?" said Anthony, glancing up at the blind house-front withan expression which said plainly enough "It won't be any use. "

"No, I'm going to get out. Here, help me! the other side, ninnyhammer!You have helped me out on the wrong side for forty years, AnthonyBarker; I must be a saint after all, or I never should have stood it. "

The old lady mounted the granite steps briskly, and knocked smartly onthe door with the top of her stick. After some delay it was opened by agrim-looking elderly woman with a forbidding squint. 

"How do you do, Keziah? I am coming in. You may wait for me, Anthony. "

"I don't know as Miss Dane feels up to seein' company, Mis' Tree, " saidthe grim woman, doubtfully, holding the door in her hand. 

"Folderol!" said Mrs. Tree, waving her aside with her stick. "She's inher sitting-room, I suppose. To be sure! How are you, Virginia?"

The room Mrs. Tree entered was gaunt and gray like the house itself;high-studded, with blank walls of gray paint, and wintry gleams ofmarble on chimneypiece and furniture. Gaunt and gray, too, was thefigure seated in the rigid high-backed chair, a tall old woman in ablack gown and a close muslin cap like that worn by the Shakers, with ablack ribbon bound round her forehead. Her high features showed wheregreat beauty, of a masterful kind, had once dwelt; her sunken eyes werecold and dim as a steel mirror that has lain long buried and hasforgotten how to give back the light. 

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

"How are you, Virginia?" repeated the visitor. "Come, shake hands! youare alive, you know, after a fashion; where's the use of pretending youare not?"

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

"I am well, Marcia, " she said, coldly. "I have been well for the pastfifteen years, since we last met. "

"I made the last visit, I remember, " said Mrs. Tree, composedly, hookinga gray horsehair footstool toward her with her stick, and settling herfeet on it. "You gave me to understand then that I need not come againtill I had something special to say, so I have stayed away. "

"I have no desire for visitors, " said Miss Dane. She spoke in a hollow, inward monotone, which somehow gave the impression that she was in thehabit of talking to herself, or to something that made no response. "Mysoul is fit company for me. "

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

"Besides, I am surrounded by the Blessed, " Miss Dane went on. "This roomprobably appears bare and gloomy to your eyes, Marcia, but I see itpeopled by the Blessed, in troops, crowding about me, robed andcrowned. "

"I hope they enjoy themselves, " said Mrs. Tree. "I will not interruptyou or them more than a few minutes, Virginia. I want to ask if you havemade your will. A singular question, but I have my reasons for asking. "

"Certainly I have; years ago. "

"Have you left anything to Mary Jaquith--Mary Ashton?"

"No!" A spark crept into the dim gray eyes. 

"So I supposed. Did you know that she was poor, and blind?"

There was a pause. 

"I did not know that she was blind, " Miss Dane said, presently. "For herpoverty, she has herself to thank. "

"Yes! she married the man she loved. It was a crime, I suppose. Youwould have had her live on here with you all her days, and turn to stoneslowly. "

"I brought Mary Ashton up as my own child, " Miss Dane went on; and therewas an echo of some past emotion in her deathly voice. "She chose tofollow her own way, in defiance of my wishes, of my judgment. She sowedthe wind, and she has reaped the whirlwind. We are as far apart as thedead and the living. "

"Just about!" said Mrs. Tree. "Now, Virginia Dane, listen to me! I havecome here to make a proposal, and when I have made it I shall go away, and that is the last you will see of me in this world, or most likely inthe next. Mary Ashton married a scamp, as other women have done and willdo to the end of the chapter. She paid for her mistake, poor child, andno one has ever heard a word of complaint or repining from her. She gotalong--somehow; and now her boy, Will, has come home, and means to be agood son, and will be one, too, and see her comfortable the rest of herdays. But--Will wants to marry. He is engaged to Andrew Bent's daughter, a sweet, pretty girl, born and grown up while you have been sitting herein your coffin, Virginia Dane. Now--they won't take any more help fromme, and I like 'em for it; and yet I want them to have more to do with. Will is clerk in the post-office, and his salary would give the three ofthem skim milk and red herrings, but not much more. I want you to leavethem some money, Virginia. "

There was a pause, during which the two pairs of eyes, the dim gray andthe fiery black, looked into each other. 

"This is a singular request, Marcia, " said Miss Dane, at last. "Ibelieve I have never offered you advice as to the bestowal of yourproperty; nor, if I remember aright, is Mary Ashton related to you inany way. "

"Cat's foot!" said Mrs. Tree, shortly. "Don't mount your high horse withme, Jinny, because it won't do any good. I don't know or care anythingabout your property; you may leave it to the cat for aught I care. WhatI want is to give you some of mine to leave to William Jaquith, in caseyou die first. "

She then made a definite proposal, to which Miss Dane listened withsevere attention. 

"And suppose you die first, " said the latter. "What then?"

"Oh, my will is all right, I have left him money enough. But there's nomore prospect of my dying than there was twenty years ago. I shall liveto be a hundred. "

"I also come of a long-lived family, " said Miss Dane. 

"I thought the Blessed might get tired of waiting, and come and fetchyou, " said Mrs. Tree, dryly; "besides, you haven't so far to go as Ihave. Seriously, one of us must in common decency go before long, Virginia; it is hardly respectable for both of us to linger in thisway. Now, if you will only listen to reason, when the time does come foreither of us, Willy Jaquith is sure of comfort for the rest of his days. What do you say?"

Miss Dane was silent for some time. Finally:

"I will consider the matter, " she said, coldly. "I cannot answer you atthis moment, Marcia. You have broken in upon the current of my thoughts, and disturbed the peace of my soul. I will communicate with you bywriting, when my decision is reached; no second interview will benecessary. "

"I'm glad you think so, " said Mrs. Tree, rising. "I wasn't intending tocome again. You knew that Phoebe Blyth was dead?"

"I knew that Phoebe had passed out of this 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'm sorry to hear it. Phoebe was agood woman, if she did have her faults. "

"You may be glad to hear that she is in a blessed state at present, " thecold monotone went on. "She came with my sisters Sophia and Persis;Timothea was also with them, and inquired for you. "

"H'm!" said Mrs. Tree. 

"I have no wish to rouse your animosity, Marcia, " continued Miss Dane, after another pause, "and I am well aware of your condition of hardenedunbelief; but we are not likely to meet again in this sphere, and sinceyou have sought me out in my retirement, I feel bound to tell you, thatI have received several visits of late from your husband, and that he ismore than ever concerned about your spiritual welfare. If you wish it, Iwill repeat to you what he said. "

The years fell away from Marcia Darracott like a cloak. She made twoquick steps forward, her little hands clenched, her tiny figure toweringlike a flame. 

"_You dare_--" she said, then stopped abruptly. The blaze died down, andthe twinkle came instead into her bright eyes. She laughed her littlerustling laugh, and turned to go. "Good-by, Jinny, " she said; "you don'tmean to be funny, but you are. Ethan Tree is in heaven; but if you thinkhe would come back from the pit to see you--te hee! Good-by, JinnyDane!"

Mrs. Tree sat bolt upright again all the way home, and chuckled severaltimes. 

"Now, that woman's jealousy is such, " she said, aloud, "that, ratherthan have me do for her niece, she'll leave her half her fortune and dienext week, just to spite me. " (In point of fact, this prophecy camealmost literally to pass, not a week, but a month later. )

"Yes, Anthony, a very pleasant call, thank ye. Help me out; _the otherside_, old step-and-fetch-it! I believe you were a hundred years oldwhen I was born. Yes, that's all. Direxia Hawkes, give him a cup ofcoffee; he's got chilled waiting in the cold. No, I'm warm enough; I hadsomething to warm me. "

In spite of this last declaration, when little Mrs. Bliss came in halfan hour later to see the old lady, she found her with her feet on thefender, sipping hot mulled wine, and declaring that the marrow wasfrozen in her bones. 

"I have been sitting in a tomb, " she said, in answer to the visitor'salarmed inquiries, "talking to a corpse. Did you ever see VirginiaDane?"

Mrs. Bliss opened her blue eyes wide. "Oh, no, Mrs. Tree. I didn't knowthat any one ever saw Miss Dane. I thought she was--"

"She is dead, " said Mrs. Tree. "I have been talking with her corpse, Itell you, and I don't like corpses. You are alive and warm, and I likeyou. Tell me some scandal. "

"Oh, Mrs. Tree!"

"Well, tell me about the baby, then. I suppose there's no harm in myasking that. If I live much longer, I sha'n't be allowed to talk aboutanything except gruel and nightcaps. How's the baby?"

"Oh, he is _so_ well, Mrs. Tree, and such a darling! He looks like aperfect beauty in that lovely cloak. I must bring him round in it toshow to you. It is the handsomest thing I ever saw, and it didn't look abit yellow after it was pressed. "

"I got it in Canton, " said Mrs. Tree. "My baby--I never had but one--wasborn in the China seas. Here's her coral. "

She motioned toward her lap, and Mrs. Bliss saw that a small chest ofcarved sandalwood lay open on her knees, full of trinkets and odds andends. 

"It is very pretty, " said little Mrs. Bliss, lifting the coral and bellsreverently. 

"Her name was Lucy, " said Mrs. Tree. "She married Arthur Blyth, cousinto the girls, and died when little Arthur was born. You may have thatfor your baby; I'm keeping Arthur's for little Vesta's child. If youthank me, you sha'n't have it. "

CHAPTER XIV. 

TOMMY CANDY, AND THE LETTER HE BROUGHT

"How do you do, Thomas Candy?" said Mrs. 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 than you did; but remember to press withthe palm, not pinch with the fingers! Now, what do you want?"

"I brung you a letter, " said Tommy Candy. "I was goin' by thepost-office, and Mr. Jaquith hollered to me and said bring it to you, and so I brung it. "

"I thank you, Thomas, " said the old lady, taking the letter and layingit down without looking at it. "Sit down! There are burnt almonds inthe ivory box. Humph! I hear very bad accounts of you, Tommy Candy. "

Tommy looked up from an ardent consideration of the relative size of theburnt almonds; his face was that of a freckled cherub who knew not sin. 

"What is all this about Isaac Weight and Timpson Boody, the sexton? Ihear you were at the bottom of the affair. "

The freckled cherub vanished; instead appeared an imp, with a complexand illuminating grin pervading even the roots of his hair. 

"Ho!" he chuckled. "I tell ye, Mis' Tree, I had a time! I tell ye I goteven with old Booby and Squashnose Weight, too, that time. Ho! ha!Yes'm, I did. "

"You are an extremely naughty boy!" said Mrs. Tree, severely. "Sitthere--don't wriggle in your cheer; you are not an eel, though I admityou are the next thing to it--and tell me every word about it, do youhear?"

"Every word?" echoed Tommy Candy. 

"Every word. "

Their eyes met; and, if twinkle met twinkle, still her brows weresevere, and her cap simply awful. Tommy Candy chuckled again. "I tellye!" he said. 

He reflected a moment, nibbling an almond absently, then leaned forward, and, clasping his hands over both knees, began his tale. 

"Old Booby's ben pickin' on me ever sence I can remember. I don't git nocomfort goin' to meetin', he picks on me so. Ever anybody sneezes, ordrops a hymn-book, or throws a lozenger, he lays it to me, and heketches me after meetin' and pulls my ears. Last Sunday he took awayevery lozenger I had, five cents' wuth, jest because I stuck one onDoctor Pottle's co't in the pew front of our'n. So then I swowed I'dhave revenge, like that feller in the poetry-book you lent me. So nextday after school I seed him--well, _saw_ him--come along with hisglass-settin' tools, and go to work settin' some glass in one of themeetin'-house winders. Some o' them little small panes got brokesomehow--yes'm, I did, but I never meant to, honest I didn't. I was jesttryin' my new catapult, and I never thought they'd have such measlyglass as all that. Well, so I see--saw him get to work, and I says toSquashnose Weight--we was goin' home from school together--I says, 'Let's go up in the gallery!' Old Booby had left the door open, and'twas right under the gallery that he was to work. So we went up; and Ihad my pocket full of split peas--no'm, I didn't have my bean-bloweralong; I'd known better than to take it into the meetin'-house, anyway;and we slipped in behind old Booby's back and got up into the gallery, and I slid the winder up easy, and we commenced droppin' peas down onhis head. He's bald as a bedpost, you know, and to see them peas hop upand roll off--I tell ye, 'twas sport! Old Booby didn't know what inthunder was the matter at first. First two or three he jest kind o'shooed with his hand--thought it was hossflies, mebbe, or June-bugs; butwe went on droppin' of 'em, and they hopped and skipped off his headlike bullets, and bumby he see one on the ground. He picked it up andlooked it all over, and then he looked up. You know how he opens hismouth and sort o' squinnies up his eyes? Mis' Tree, I couldn't help it, no way in the world; I jest dropped a handful of peas right down intohis mouth. 'Twa'n't no great of a shot, for he opened the spread of aquart dipper; but Squashnose he sung out 'Gee whittakers!' and raised uphis head, and old Booby saw him. Well, the way he dropped his tools andput for the door was a caution. We thought we could get down before hereached the gallery stairs, but I caught my pants on a nail, andSquashnose got his foot wedged in between two benches, and, by the timewe got loose, we heard old Booby comin' poundin' up the stairs like allpossessed. There wa'n't nothin' to do then but cut and run up the belfryladder. We slipped off our shoes and stockin's, and thought mebbe wecould get up without him hearin' us, but he did hear, and up he comefull chisel, puffin' and cussin' like all creation. 

"We waited--there wa'n't nothin' else to do; and I meant--I reely did, Mis' Tree--to own up and say I was sorry and take my lickin'; but thatSquashnose Weight--he makes me tired!--the minute he see old Booby'sbald head comin' up the ladder, he hollers out, 'Tommy Candy did it, Mr. Boody! Tommy Candy did it; he's got his pocket full of 'em now. I seehim!'

"Well, you bet I was mad then! I got holt of him and give his head onegood ram against the wall; and then when old Booby stepped up into theloft, I dropped down on all fours and run between his legs, and upsethim onto Squashnose, and clum down the ladder and run home. That wasevery livin' thing I done, Mis' Tree, honest it was; and they blame itall on me, the lickin' Squashnose got, and all. I give him a good one, too, next day. I druther be me than him, anyway. "

"Humph!" said Mrs. Tree. She did not look at Tommy, but held the Chinesescreen before her face. "Did--did your father whip you well, Tommy?"

"Yes'm, he did so, the best lickin' I had this year; I dono but the bestI ever had, but 'twas wuth it!"

When Master Candy left Mrs. Tree he had a neat and concise littlelecture passing through his head, on its way from one ear to the other, and in his pocket an assortment of squares of fig-paste, red and white. The red, as Mrs. Tree pointed out to him, had nuts in them. 

Left alone, the old lady put down the screen, and let the twinkle haveits own way. She shook her head two or three times at the fire, andlaughed a little rustling 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, coming in for her daily visit (for MissPhoebe's death had brought the aunt and niece even nearer togetherthan they were before), found her aunt in a state of high indignation. She began to speak the moment Miss Vesta entered the room. 

"Vesta, don't say a word to me! do you hear? not a single word! I willnot put up with it for an instant; understand that once and for all!"

"Dear Aunt Marcia, " said Miss Vesta, mildly, "I may say good morning, surely? What has put you about to-day?"

"I have had a letter. The impudence of the woman, writing to me! Now, Vesta, don't look at me in that way, for you have some sense, if notmuch, and you know perfectly well it was impudent. Folderol! don't tellme! her dear aunt, indeed! I'll dear-aunt her, if she tries to set footin 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 up with the tongs, if I wereyou. "

Miss Vesta did not think it necessary to obey this injunction, butunfolded the square of scented paper which her aunt indicated, and readas follows:

 "MY DEAR AUNT:--I was much grieved to hear of poor Phoebe's death. It seems very strange that I was not informed of her illness; being her own first cousin, it would have been natural and gratifying for me to have shared the last sad hours with you and Vesta; but malice is no part of my nature, and I am quite ready to overlook the neglect. You and Vesta must miss Phoebe sadly, and be very lonely, and I feel it a duty that I must not shirk to come and show you both that to _me_, at least, blood is thicker than water. One drop of Darracott blood, I always say, is enough to establish a claim on me. It is a long time since I have been in Elmerton, and I should like above all things to bring my two sweet girls, to show them their mother's early home, and present them to their venerable relation. I think you would find them _not inferior_, to say the least, to some others who have been more put forward to catch the eye. A violet by a mossy stone has always been _my_ idea of a young woman. However, my daughters' engagements are so numerous, and they are so much _sought after_, that it will be impossible for me to bring them at present; later I shall hope to do so. I propose to divide my visit _impartially_ between you and poor Vesta, but shall go to her first, being the one in affliction, since such we are bidden to visit. 

 "Looking forward with great pleasure to my visit with you, and hoping that this may find you in the enjoyment of such a measure of health as your advanced years may allow, I am, my dear Aunt, "Your affectionate niece, "MARIA DARRACOTT PRYOR. "

"When you have finished it, you may put it into the fire, " said Mrs. Tree. "Bah! what did she say to you? Cat! I don't mean you, Vesta. "

But Miss Vesta, with all her dove-like qualities, had something of thewisdom of the serpent, and had no idea of repeating what Mrs. Pryor hadsaid to her. Several phrases rose to her mind, --"Aunt Marcia's fewremaining days on earth, " "precarious spiritual condition of whichreports have reached me, " "spontaneous distribution of family property, "etc. , --and she rejoiced in being able to say calmly, "I did not bringthe letter with me, Aunt Marcia. Maria speaks of her intended visit, andseems to look forward with much pleasure to--"

"Vesta Blyth, " said Mrs. Tree, "look me in the eye!"

"Yes, dear Aunt Marcia, " said the little lady. Her soft brown eyes metfearlessly the black sparks which gleamed from under Mrs. Tree'seyebrows. She smiled, and laid her hand gently on that of the elderwoman. 

"There is no earthly use in your smiling at me, Vesta, " the old ladywent on. "I see nothing whatever to smile about. I wish simply to say, as I have said before, that after I am dead you may do as you please;but I am not dead yet, and while I live, Maria Darracott sets no foot inthis house. "

"Dear Aunt Marcia!"

"No foot in this house!" repeated Mrs. Tree. "Not the point of her toe, if she had a point. She was born splay-footed, and I suppose she'll dieso. Not the point of her toe!"

Miss Vesta was silent for a moment. If she were only like Phoebe! Shemust try her best to do as Phoebe would have wished. 

"Aunt Marcia, " she said, "you have always been so near and dear--so verynear and so infinitely dear and kind, to us, --especially to Nathanieland me, and to Nathaniel's children, --that I fear you sometimes forgetthe fact that Maria is precisely the same relation to you that we are. "

"Cat's foot, fiddlestick, folderol, fudge!" remarked Mrs. Tree, blandly. 

"Dear Aunt Marcia, do not speak so, I beg of you. Only think, UncleJames, Maria's father, was your own brother. "

"His wife wasn't my own sister!" said Mrs. Tree, grimly. Then she blazedout suddenly. "Vesta Blyth, you are a good girl, and I am very fond ofyou; but I know what I am about, and I behave as I intend to behave. Mybrother James was a good man, though I never could understand the groundhe took about the Copleys. He had no more right to them--but that isneither here nor there. His wife was a cat, and her mother before herwas a cat, and her daughter after her is a cat. I don't like cats, and Inever have had them in this house, and I never will. That's all there isto it. If that woman comes here, I'll set the parrot on her. "

"Scat!" said the parrot, waking from a doze and ruffling his feathers. "_Quousque tandem, O Catilina?_ Vesta, Vesta, don't you pester!"

Miss Vesta sighed. "Then--what will you say to Maria, Aunt Marcia?"

"I sha'n't say anything to her!" replied the old lady, snappishly. 

"Surely you must answer her letter, dear. "

"Must I! 'Must got bust, ' they used to say when I was a girl. "

"Surely you _will_ answer it?" said Miss Vesta, altering the unluckyform of words. 

"Nothing of the sort! She has had the impudence to write to me, and shecan answer herself. "

"She cannot very well do that, Aunt Marcia. "

"Then she can go without. 

 "'Tiddy hi, toddy ho, Tiddy hi hum, Thus was it when Barbara Popkins was young!'"

Miss Vesta sighed again; it was always a bad sign when Mrs. Tree beganto sing. 

"Very well, Aunt Marcia, " she said, after a pause, rising. "I willanswer for both, then. I will say that--"

"Say that I am blind, deaf, and dumb!" her aunt commanded. "Say that Ihave the mumps and the chicken-pox, and am recommended absoluteretirement. Say I have my sins to think about, and have no time foranything else. Say anything you like, Vesta, but run along now, like agood girl, and let me get smoothed out before that poor little parsoncomes to see me. He's coming at five. Last time I scared him out of ayear's growth--te-hee!--and he has none to spare, inside or out. Good-by, my dear. "

CHAPTER XV. 

MARIA

"My dearest Vesta, what a pleasure to see you! You are looking wretched, simply wretched! How thankful I am that I came!"

Mrs. Pryor embraced her cousin with effusion. She was short and fair, with prominent eyes and teeth, and she wore a dress that crackled andornaments that clinked. Miss Vesta, in her dove-colored cashmere andwhite net, seemed to melt into her surroundings and form part of them, but Mrs. Pryor stood out against them like a pump against an eveningsky. 

"It was very kind of you to come, Maria, " said Miss Vesta, "very kindindeed. I trust you had a comfortable journey, and are not too tired. "

"My dear, " said Mrs. Pryor, buoyantly, "I am never tired. Watchspringand wire--Mr. Pryor always said that was what his little Maria was madeof. But it would have made no difference if I had been at the point ofexhaustion, I would have made any effort to come to you. Darracottblood, my love! Any one who has a drop of Darracott blood in his veinscan call upon me for anything; how much more you, who are my own firstcousin. Poor, dear Phoebe, what a loss! You are not in black, I see. Ah! I remember her peculiar views. You feel bound to respect them. Iconsider that a mistake, Vesta. We must respect, but we are not calledupon to imitate, the eccentricities--"

"I share my sister's views, " said Miss Vesta, tranquilly. "Will you havea cup of tea now, Maria, or would you like to go to your room at once?"

"Neither, my dear, just at this moment, " said Mrs. Pryor, vivaciously. "I must just take a glance around. Dear me! how many years is it since Ihave been in this house? Had Phoebe aged as much as you have, Vesta?Single women, of course, always age faster, --no young life to keep themgirlish. Ah! you must see my two sweet girls. Angels, Vesta! andDarracotts to their finger-ends. I feel like a child again, positivelylike a child. The parlor is exactly as I remember it, only faded. Thingsdo fade so, don't they? It's a mistake not to keep your furniture freshand up to date. I should re-cover those chairs, if I were you; nothingwould be easier. A few yards of something bright and pretty, a fewbrass-headed nails--why, I could do it in a couple of hours. We must seewhat we can do, Vesta. And it is a pity, it seems to me, to haveeverything so bare, tables and all. Beautiful polish, to be sure, butthey look so bleak. A chenille cover, now, here and there, a brightdrape or two, would transform this room; all this old red damask isterribly antiquated, my dear. It comes of having no young life aboutyou, as I said. My girls have such taste! You should see our parlor athome--not an inch but is covered with something bright and æsthetic. Ah!here are the portraits. Yes, to be sure. Do you know, Vesta, I haveoften thought of writing to you and Phoebe--in fact, I was on thepoint of it when the sad news came of poor Phoebe's being taken--aboutthese portraits of Grandfather and Grandmother Darracott. GrandmotherDarracott left them to your branch, I am well aware of that; but justiceis justice, and I do think we ought to have one of them. We have just asmuch Darracott blood in our veins as you have, and you and Phoebe werealways Blyth all over, while the Darracott nose and chin show sostrongly in me and my children. You have no children, Vesta, and Ialways think it is the future generations that should be considered. Weare passing away, my dear, --in the midst of life, you know, and poorPhoebe's death reminds us of it, I'm sure, more than ever--you don'tlook as if you had more than a year or two before you yourself, Vesta, --but--well--and so--I confess it seems to me as if you might feelmore at ease in your mind if we had one of the portraits. Of course Ishould 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 turbanand shawl, Grandfather Darracott splendid with frill and gold seals, looked down on her benignantly, as they had always looked. They had beenpart of her life, these kindly, silent figures. She had always feltsure of Grandmother Darracott's sympathy and understanding. Sometimeswhen, as a child, she fancied herself naughty (but she never was!), shewould appeal from the keen, inquiring gaze of Grandfather Darracott tothose soft brown eyes, so like her own, if she had only known it; andthe brown eyes never failed to comfort and reassure her. 

Part with one of those pictures? A month ago the request would havebrought her distress and searchings of heart, with wonder whether itmight not be her duty to do so just because it was painful; but MissVesta was changed. It was as if Miss Phoebe, in passing, had let theshadow of her mantle fall on her younger sister. 

"I cannot consider the question, Maria!" she said, quietly. "My dearsister would have been quite unwilling to do so, I am sure. And now, asI have duties to attend to, shall I show you your room?"

Miss Vesta drifted up the wide staircase, and Mrs. Pryor stumped andcreaked behind her. 

"You have put me in Phoebe's room, I suppose, " said the visitor, asthey reached the landing. "So near you, I can give you any attention youmay need in the night. Besides, the sun--oh, the dimity room! Well, Idare say it will do well enough. Stuffy, isn't it? but I am the easiestperson 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 tocall this afternoon, though I could make a special effort if you thinkshe would feel sensitive. "

"Indeed, Maria, I am very sorry, but I don't feel sure--in fact, Irather fear that you may not be able to see Aunt Marcia, at all eventsjust at present. "

"Not be able to see her! My dear Vesta, what can you mean? Why, I amgoing to _stay_ with Aunt Marcia. I wrote to her as well as to you, andsaid that I should divide my visit equally between you. Of course I feelall that I owe to you, my love; I have made all my arrangements for along stay; indeed, it happens to fit in very well with my plans, but Ineed not trouble you with details now. What I mean to say is, that inspite of all I owe to you, I have also a sacred duty to fulfil toward myaunt. It is impossible in the nature of things that she should live muchlonger, and as her own niece and the mother of a family I am bound, solemnly bound, to soothe and cheer a few, at least, of her closingdays. I suppose the dear old thing feels a little hurt that I did not goto her first, from what you say; old people are very tetchy, I ought tohave remembered that, but you were the one in affliction, and I feltbound--but I will make that all right, never fear, in the morning. There, my dear, don't, I beg of you, give yourself the slightestuneasiness about the matter! I am quite able to take care of myself, andof you and Aunt Marcia into the bargain. You do not know me, my dear!Yes, Diploma can bring me the tea now, and I will unpack and set thingsto rights a bit. You will not mind if I move the furniture about alittle? I have my own ideas, and they are not always such bad ones. Good-by, my love! Go and rest now, you look like a ghost. I shall haveto take you in hand at once, I see; so fortunate that I came. _Good_-by!"

Miss Vesta, descending the stairs with a troubled brow, was met byDiploma with the announcement that Doctor Stedman was in the parlor. 

"Oh!" Miss Vesta breathed a little sigh of pleasure and relief, andhastened down. 

"Good afternoon, James! I am rejoiced to see you. I--somethingperplexing has occurred; perhaps you may be able to advise me. SisterPhoebe would have known exactly what to do, but I confess I ampuzzled. Our--my cousin, Mrs. Pryor, has arrived this afternoon. "

"Mrs. Pryor!" said Doctor Stedman. "Any one I ought to know?"

"Maria Darracott. Surely you remember her?"

"Hum! yes, I remember _her_. She hasn't come here, to this house?"

"Yes; she is up-stairs now, unpacking her trunk. She has come to make along stay, it would appear from the size of the trunk. Of course Iam--of course it was very kind in her to come, and I shall do my best tomake her stay agreeable; but--James, she intends to make Aunt Marcia avisit, too, and Aunt Marcia absolutely refuses to see her. What shall Ido?"

Doctor Stedman chuckled. "Do? I wish you had followed your aunt'sexample; but that was not to be expected. Hum! I don't see that you cando anything. Your aunt is not amenable to the bit, not even theslightest snaffle; as to driving her with a curb, I should like to seethe man who would attempt it. Won't see her, eh? ho! ho! Mrs. Tree isthe one consistent woman I have ever known. "

"But Maria is entirely unconvinced, James; I cannot make any impressionupon her. She is determined to go to see Aunt Marcia to-morrow, and Ifear--"

"Let her go! she is of age, if I remember rightly; let her go and tryfor herself. You are not responsible for what occurs. Vesta--let me lookat you! Hum! I wish you would turn this visitor out, and go awaysomewhere for a bit. "

"Go away, James? I?"

"Yes, you! You are not looking at all the thing, I tell you. It's allvery well and very--everything that is like you--to take this troublesimply and naturally, but whatever you may say and believe, there is theshock and there is the strain, and those are things we have to pay forsooner or later. Go away, I tell you! Send away this--this visitor, giveDiploma the key, and go off somewhere for a month or two. Go and makeNat a visit! Poor old Nat, he's lonely 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 breath away, " said Miss Vesta, fluttering alittle. "You are most kind and friendly, but--but it would not bepossible for me to go away. I could not think of it for a moment, evenif the laws of hospitality did not bind me as long as Maria--my owncousin, remember, James--chooses to stay here. I could not think ofit. "

"I should like to know why!" said Doctor Stedman, obstinately. "I shouldlike to know what your reasons are, Vesta. "

"Oh!" Miss Vesta sighed, as if she felt the hopelessness of flutteringher wings against the dead wall of masculinity before her; neverthelessshe spoke up bravely. 

"I have given you one reason already, James. It would be not onlyunseemly, but impossible, for me to leave my guest. But even withoutthat, even if I were entirely alone, still I could not go. My duties;the house; my dear sister's ideas, --she always said a house could not beleft for a month by the entire family without deteriorating in someway--though Diploma is most excellent, most faithful. Then, --it is asmall matter, but--I have always cared for my seaward lamp in person. Ihave never been away, James, since--I first lighted the lamp. Then--"

"I am still waiting for a reason, " said Doctor Stedman, grimly. "I havenot heard what I call one yet. "

The soft color rose in Miss Vesta's face, and she lifted her eyes to hiswith a look he had seen in them once or twice before. 

"Then here is one for you, James, " she said, quietly. "I do not wish togo!"

Doctor Stedman rose abruptly, and tramped up and down the room in moodysilence. Miss Vesta sighed, and watched his feet. They were heavilybooted, but--no, there were no nails in them, and the shining floorremained intact. 

Suddenly he came to a stop in front of her. 

"What if I carried you off, you inflexible little piece of porcelain?"he said. "What if--Vesta, --may I speak once more?"

"Oh, if you would please not, James!" cried Miss Vesta, a soft hurry inher voice, her cheeks very pink. "I should be so truly grateful to youif you would not. I am so happy in your friendship, James. It is such acomfort, such a reliance to me. Do not, I beg of you, my dear friend, disturb it. "

"But--you are alone, child. If Phoebe had lived, I had made up my mindnever to trouble you again. She is gone, and you are alone, and tired, and--I find it hard to bear, Vesta. I do indeed. "

He spoke with heat and feeling. Miss Vesta's eyes were full oftenderness as she raised them to his. 

"You are so kind, James!" she said. "No one ever had a kinder or morefaithful friend; of that I am sure. But you must never think that, aboutmy being alone. I am never alone; almost never--at least, not so veryoften, even lonely. I live with a whole life-full of blessed memories. Besides, I have Aunt Marcia. She needs me more and more, and by and by, when her marvellous strength begins to fail, --for it must fail, --shewill need me constantly. I can never, never feel alone while Aunt Marcialives. "

"Hum!" said Doctor Stedman. "Well, good-by! Poison Maria's tea, and I'lllet you off with that. I'll send you up a powder of corrosive sublimatein the morning--there! there! don't look horrified. You never canunderstand--or I never can. I mean, I'll send you some bromide foryourself. Don't tell me that you 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's door. It was another Indian summer morning, mild and soft. As shecame up the street, Mrs. Pryor had seen, or thought she had seen, afigure sitting in the wicker rocking-chair on the porch. The chair wasempty now, but it was rocking--perhaps with the wind. 

Direxia Hawkes answered the visitor's knock. 

"How do you do, Direxia?" said Mrs. Pryor, in sprightly tones. "Youremember me, of course, --Miss Maria. Will you tell Mrs. Tree that I havecome, please?"

She made a motion to enter, but Direxia stood in the doorway, grim andforbidding. 

"Mis' Tree can't see anybody this morning, " she said. 

Mrs. Pryor smiled approvingly. "I see you are a good watch-dog, Direxia. Very proper, I am sure, not to let my aunt, at her age, be annoyed byordinary visitors; but your care is unnecessary in this case. I willjust step into the parlor, and you can tell her that I am here. Probablyshe will wish me to come up at once to her room, but you may as well gofirst, just to prepare her. Any shock, however joyful, is to be avoidedwith the aged. "

She moved forward again, but Direxia Hawkes did not stir. 

"I'm sorry, " she said. "I am so; but I can't let you in, Mis' Pryor, Ican't nohow. "

"Cannot let me in?" repeated Mrs. Pryor. "What does this mean? It issome conspiracy. Of course I know there is a jealousy, but this istoo--stand aside this moment, my good creature, and don't be insolent, or you will repent of it. I shall inform my aunt. Do you know who Iam?"

"Yes'm, I know well enough who you are. Yes'm, I know you are her ownniece, but if you was fifty nieces I couldn't let you in. She ain'tgoin' to see a livin' soul to-day except Doctor Stedman. You might seehim, after he's ben here, " she added, relenting a little at the keenchagrin in the visitor's face. 

Mrs. Pryor caught at the straw. 

"Ah! she has sent for Doctor Stedman. Very right, very proper! Ofcourse, if my aunt does not think it wise to see any one until after thephysician's visit, I can understand that. Nobody is more careful aboutsuch matters than I am. I will see Doctor Stedman myself, get his adviceand directions, and call again. Give my love to my aunt, Direxia, andtell her"--she stretched her neck toward the door--"tell her that I amgreatly distressed not to see her, and still more to hear that she isindisposed; but that very soon, as soon as possible after the doctor'svisit, I shall come again and devote myself to her. "

"Scat!" said a harsh voice from within. 

"Mercy on me! what's that?" cried Mrs. Pryor. 

"Scat! _quousque tandem, O Catilina?_ Helen was a beauty, Xantippewas--"

"Hold your tongue!" said Direxia Hawkes, hastily. "It's only the parrot. He is the worst-actin'--good mornin', Mis' Pryor!"

She closed the door on a volley of screeches that was pouring from thedoorway. 

Mrs. Pryor, rustling and crackling with indignation against the world ingeneral, made her way down the garden path. She was fumbling with thelatch of the gate, when the door of the opposite house opened, and alarge woman came out and, hastening across the road, met her withoutstretched hand. 

"Do tell me if this isn't Mis' Pryor!" said the large women, cordially. "I felt sure it must be you; I heard you was in town. You haven'tforgotten Mis' Weight, Malviny Askem as was? Well, I am pleased to seeyou. Walk in, won't you? now do! Why, you _are_ a stranger! Step rightin this way!"

Nothing loth, Mrs. Pryor stepped in, and was ushered into thesitting-room. 

"Deacon, here's an old friend, if I may presume to say so; Mis' Pryor, Miss Maria Darracott as was. You'll be rejoiced, well I know. Isick andAnnie Lizzie, come here this minute and shake hands! Your right hand, Annie Lizzie, and take your finger out of your mouth, or I'll sl--Ishall have to speak to you. Let me take your bunnet, Maria, mayn't I?"

Deacon Weight heaved himself out of his chair, and received the visitorwith ponderous cordiality. "It is a long time since we have had thepleasure of welcoming you to Elmerton, Mrs. Pryor, " he said. "Yourfamily has sustained a great loss, ma'am, a great loss. Miss PhoebeBlyth is universally lamented. "

Yes, indeed, a sad loss, Mrs. Pryor said. She regretted deeply that shehad not been able to be present at the last sad rites. She had beentenderly attached to her cousin, whom she had not seen for twenty years. 

"But I have come now, " she said, "to devote myself to those who remain. My cousin Vesta looks sadly ill and shrunken, really an old woman, andmy aunt Mrs. Tree is seriously ill, I am told, unable even to see meuntil after the doctor's visit. Very sad! At her age, of course theslightest thing in the nature of a seizure would probably be fatal. Haveyou seen her recently, may I ask?"

Deacon Weight crossed and uncrossed his legs uneasily. Mrs. Weightbridled, and pursed her lips. 

"We don't often see Mis' Tree to speak to, " she said. "There's thoseyou can be neighborly with, and there's those you can't. Mis' Tree hasnever showed the wish to _be_ neighborly, and I am not one to put forth, neither is the deacon. Where we are wished for, we go, and the reverse, we stay away. We do what duty calls for, no more. I did see Mis' Tree atPhoebe's funeral, " she added, "and she looked gashly then. I hope sheis prepared, I reelly do. I know Phoebe was real uneasy about her. Wemake her the subject of prayer, the deacon 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's soul is in a more perilous way than her body. "

Mrs. Pryor seemed less concerned about 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 the house, how she spent her time, etc. Mrs. Weight answered with eager volubility. She told how often thebutcher came, and what costly delicacies he left; how few and farbetween were what she might call spiritooal visits; "for our pastor isyoung, Mis' Pryor, and it's not to be expected that he could have thepower of exhortation to compare with those who have labored in thevineyard the len'th of time Deacon Weight has. Then, too, she has a waythat rides him down--Mr. Bliss, I'm speakin' of--and makes him ready totalk about any truck and dicker she likes. I see him come out the otherday, laughin' fit to split; you'd never think he was a minister of thegospel. Not that I should wish to be understood as sayin' anythingagainst Mr. Bliss; the young are easily led, even the best of them. Isick, don't stand gappin' there! Shut your mouth, and go finish yourchores. And Annie Lizzie, you go and peel some apples for mother. Yes, you can, just as well as not; don't answer me like that! No, you don'twant a cooky now, you ain't been up from breakfast more than--well, justone, then, and mind you pick out a small one! Mis' Pryor, I didn't liketo speak too plain before them innocents, but it's easy to see why Mis'Tree clings as she doos to the things of this world. If I had theoutlook she has for the next, I should tremble in my bed, I should so. "

Finally the visitor departed, promising to come again soon. After abaffled glance at Mrs. Tree's house, which showed an uncompromisingfront of closed windows and muslin curtains, she made her way to thepost-office, where for a stricken hour she harried Mr. Homer Hollopeter. She was his cousin too, in the fifth or sixth degree, and as shecheerfully told him, Darracott blood was a bond, even to the last dropof it. She questioned him as to his income, his housekeeping, hisreasons for remaining single, which appeared to her insufficient, notto say childish; she commented on his looks, the fashion of his dress(it was a manifest absurdity for a man of his years to wear a sky-blueneck-tie!), the decorations of his office. She thought a portrait of thePresident, or George Washington, would be more appropriate than thosedingy engravings. Who were--oh, Keats and Shelley? No one admired poetrymore than she did; she had read Keats's "Christian Year" only a shorttime ago; charming!

"And what is that landscape, Cousin Homer? Something foreign, evidently. I always think that a government office should be representative _of_the government. I have a print at home, a bird's-eye view of Washingtonin 1859, which I will send you if you like. I suppose you have anexpress frank? No? How mean of Congress! What did you say this mountainwas?"

Mr. Homer, who had received Mrs. Pryor's remarks in meekness and--sofar as might be--in silence, waving his head and arms now and then inmute dissent, now looked up at the mountain photograph; he opened andshut his mouth several times before he found speech. 

"The picture, " he said, slowly, "represents a--a--mountain; a--a--inshort, --a mountain!" and not another word could he be got to say aboutit. 

Doctor Stedman had a long round to go that day, and it was not till lateafternoon that he reached home and found a message from Mrs. Tree sayingthat she wished to see him. He hastened to the house; Direxia, who hadevidently been watching for him, opened the door almost before heknocked. 

"Nothing serious, I trust, Direxia!" he asked, anxiously. "I have beenout of town, and am only just back. "

"Hush!" whispered Direxia, with a glance toward the parlor door. "Idon't know; I can't make out--"

"Come in, James Stedman!" called Mrs. Tree from the parlor. "Don't standthere gossiping with Direxia; I didn't send for you to see her. "

Direxia lifted her hands and eyes with an eloquent gesture. "She is thebeat of all!" she murmured, and fled to her kitchen. 

Entering the parlor Doctor Stedman found Mrs. Tree sitting by the fireas usual, with her feet on the fender. Sitting, but not attired, asusual. She was dressed, or rather enveloped, in a vast quilted wrapperof flowered satin, tulips and poppies on a pale buff ground, and herhead was surmounted by the most astonishing nightcap that ever the mindof woman devised. So ample and manifold were its flapping borders, andso small the keen brown face under them, that Doctor Stedman, though notan imaginative person, could think of nothing but a walnut set in thecentre of a cauliflower. 

"Good afternoon, James Stedman!" said the old lady. "I am sick, yousee. "

"I see, Mrs. Tree, " said the doctor, glancing from the wrapper and capto the bowl and spoon that stood on the violet-wood table. He had seenthese things before. "You don't feel seriously out of trim, I hope?"

Mrs. Tree fixed him with a bright black eye. 

"At my age, James, everything is serious, " she said, gravely. "You knowthat as well as I do. "

"Yes, I know that!" said Doctor Stedman. He laid his hand on her wristfor a moment, then returned her look with one as keen as her own. 

"Have you any symptoms for me?"

"I thought that was your business!" said the patient. 

"Hum!" said Doctor Stedman. "How long, have you been--a--feeling likethis?"

"Ever since yesterday; no, the day before. I am excessively nervous, James. I am unfit to talk, utterly unfit; I cannot see people. I wantyou to keep people away from me for--for some days. You must see that Iam unfit to see anybody!"

"Ha!" said Doctor Stedman. 

"It agitates me!" cried the old lady. "At my age I cannot afford to beagitated. Have some orange cordial, James; do! it is in the Moorishcabinet there, the right-hand cupboard. Yes, you may bring two glassesif you like; I feel a sinking. You see that I am in no condition forvisitors. "

The corners of Doctor Stedman's gray beard twitched; but he poured asmall portion of the cordial into two fat little gilt tumblers, andhanded one gravely to his patient. 

[Illustration: "'PERHAPS THIS IS AS GOOD MEDICINE AS YOU CAN TAKE!' HESAID. "]

"Perhaps this is as good medicine as you can take!" he said. "Delicious! Does the secret of this die with Direxia? But I'll put youup some powders, Mrs. Tree, for the--a--nervousness; and I certainlythink it would be a good plan for 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, if you say so, not even Vesta. "

"Vesta is so literal, you see!" said Mrs. Tree, comfortably. "Then thatis settled; and you will give your orders to Direxia. I am utterly unfitto talk, and you forbid me to see anybody. How do you think Vesta islooking, James?"

Doctor Stedman's eyes, which had been twinkling merrily under his shaggyeyebrows, grew suddenly grave. 

"Badly!" he said, briefly. "Worn, tired--almost sick. She ought to haveabsolute rest, mind, body, and soul, and, instead of that, here comesthis--"

"Catamaran?" suggested Mrs. Tree, blandly. 

"You know her better than I do, " said James Stedman. "Here she comes, atany rate, and settles down on Vesta, and announces that she has come tostay. It ought not to be allowed. Mrs. Tree, I want Vesta to go away;_she_ is unfit for visitors, if you will. I want her to go off somewherefor 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 James Stedman's strong, kindly face. He made noreply at first, but sat looking into the fire, while the old womanwatched him. 

At last--"You asked me that once before, Mrs. Tree, " he said, with aneffort; "how many years ago was it? Never mind! I can only make the sameanswer that I made then. She will not come. "

"Have you tried again, James?"

"Yes, I have tried again, or--tried to try. I will not persecute her; Itold you that before. "

"Has the little idiot--has she any reason to give?"

Doctor Stedman gave a short laugh. "She doesn't wish it; isn't thatreason enough? I said something about her being alone; I couldn't helpit, she looked so little, and--but she feels that she will never bealone so long as--that is, she feels that she has all the companionshipshe needs. "

"So long as what? So long as I am alive, hey?" said the old lady. Hereyes were like sparks of black fire, but James Stedman would not meetthem. He stared moodily before him, and made no reply. 

"I am a meddlesome old woman!" said Mrs. Tree. "You wish I would leaveyou alone, James Stedman, and so I will. Old women ought to bestrangled; there's some place where they do it, Cap'n Tree told me aboutit once; I suppose it's because they talk too much. She said sheshouldn't be alone while I lived, hey? Where are you going, James? Stayand have supper with me; do! it would be a charity; and there's a lardedpartridge 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 hetook up his hat. "I wish I could stay, but I have still one or two callsto make. But--larded partridge, Mrs. Tree, in your condition! I amsurprised at you. I would recommend a cup of gruel and a slice of thintoast without butter. "

"Cat's foot!" said Mrs. Tree. "Well, good-night, James; and don't forgetthe orders to Direxia: I am utterly unfit to talk and must not see anyone. "

CHAPTER XVII. 

NOT YET!

How it happened that, in spite of the strict interdict laid upon allvisitors at Mrs. Tree's house, Tommy Candy found his way in, nobodyknows to this day. Direxia Hawkes found him in the front entry oneafternoon, and pounced upon him with fury. The boy showed every sign ofguilt and terror, but refused to say why he had come or what he wanted. As he was hustled out of the door a voice from above was heard to cry, "The ivory elephant for your own, mind, and a box of the kind with nutsin it!" Sometimes Jocko could imitate his mistress's voice toperfection. 

Mrs. Weight, whom the news of Mrs. Tree's actual illness had wrought toa fever-pitch of observation, saw the boy come out, and carried the wordat once to Mrs. Pryor; in ten minutes that lady was at the doorclamoring for entrance. Direxia, her apron at her eyes, was firm, butevidently in distress. 

"She's took to her bed!" she said. "I darsn't let you in; it'd be asmuch as my life is wuth and her'n too, the state she's in. I think she'sout of her head, Mis' Pryor. There! she's singin' this minute; do hearher! Oh, my poor lady! I wish Doctor Stedman would come!"

Over the stairs came floating, in a high-pitched thread of voice, ascrap of eldritch song:

 "Tiddy hi, toddy ho, Tiddy hi hum, Thus was it when Barbara Popkins was young!"

Mrs. Pryor hastened back and told Miss Vesta that their aunt wasdelirious, and had probably but a few hours to live. Poor Miss Vesta!she would have broken through any interdict and flown to her aunt'sside; but she herself was housed with a heavy, feverish cold, and DoctorStedman's commands were absolute. "You may say what you like to yourfriend, " he said, "but you must obey your physician. I know what I amabout, and I forbid you to leave the house!"

At these words Miss Vesta leaned back on her sofa-pillow with a gentlesigh. James did know what he was about, of course; and--since he hadprivately assured her that he did not consider Mrs. Tree in any danger, and since she really felt quite unable to stand, much less to go out--itwas very comfortable to be absolutely forbidden to do so. Still it wasnot a pleasant day for Miss Vesta. Mrs. Pryor never left her side, declaring that _this_ duty at least she could and would perform, andVesta might be assured she would never desert her; and the stream oftalk about the Darracott blood, the family portraits, and theastonishing moral obliquity of most persons except Mrs. Pryor herself, flowed on and around and over Miss Vesta's aching head till she feltthat she was floating away on waves of the fluid which is thicker thanwater. 

In the afternoon a bolt fell. It was about five o'clock, near the timefor Doctor Stedman's daily visit, when the door flew open without knockor ring, and Tragedy appeared on the threshold in the person of Mrs. Malvina Weight. Speechless, she stood in the doorway and beckoned. Shehad been running, a method of locomotion for which nature had notintended her; her breath came in quick gasps, and her face was as theface 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 do you mean, Malvina Weight?"

"Mis' Tree! there's crape on the door. I see it--three minutes ago--withthese eyes! I run all the way--just as I was; I've got my death, Iexpect--palpitations--I had to come. She's gone in her sins! Oh, girls, ain't it awful?"

Miss Vesta, pale and trembling, tried to rise, but fell back on thesofa. 

"James!" she said, faintly; "where is James Stedman?"

"Stay where you are, Vesta Blyth!" cried Mrs. Pryor. "I will send forDoctor Stedman; I will attend to everything. I am going to the housemyself this instant. Here, Diploma! come and take care of your mistress!cologne, salts, whatever you have. I must fly!"

And as a hen flies, fluttering and cackling, so did Mrs. Pryor flutterand cackle, up the street, with Mrs. Weight, still breathless, poundingand gasping in her wake. 

"For the land's sake, what is the matter?" asked Diploma Crotty, appearing in the parlor doorway with a flushed cheek and floury hands. "Miss Vesty, I give you to understand that I ain't goin' to be calledfrom my bread by no--my dear heart alive! what has happened?"

Miss Vesta put her hand to her throat. 

"My aunt, Diploma!" she whispered. "She--Mrs. Weight says there is crapeon the door. I--I seem to have lost my strength. Oh, where is DoctorStedman?"

A brown, horrified face looked for an instant over Diploma's shoulder;the face of Direxia Hawkes, who had come in search of something hermistress wanted, leaving the second maid in charge of her patient; itvanished, and another figure scurried up the street, breathless withfear and wonder. 

"You lay down, Miss Vesty!" commanded Diploma. "Lay down this minute, that's a good girl. Whoever's dead, you ain't, and I don't want youshould. There! Here comes Doctor Stedman this minute. I'll run and lethim in. Oh, Doctor Stedman, it ain't true, 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 been out in the country. What is thematter?"

"James!" cried Miss Vesta's voice. 

The sound of it struck the physician's ear; he looked at Diploma. 

"What has happened?"

"Go in! go in and see her!" whispered the old woman. "They say Mis'Tree's dead; I dono; but go in, do, there's a good soul!"

"Oh, James!" cried Miss Vesta, and she held out both hands, tremblingwith fever and distress. "I am so glad you have come. James! AuntMarcia is dead; there is crape on her door. Did you know? Were you withher? Oh, James, I am all alone now. I am all alone in the world!"

"Never, while I am alive!" said James Stedman, catching the littletrembling hands in his. "Look up, Vesta! Cheer up, my dear! You cannever be alone while I am in the same world with you. If your aunt isindeed dead, then you belong to me, Vesta; why, you know you do, youfoolish little woman. There! there! stop trembling. My dear, did youthink I would let you be really alone for five minutes?"

"Oh, James!" cried Miss Vesta. "Consider our age! Sister Phoebe--"

"I do consider our age, " said Doctor Stedman. "It is just what Iconsider. We have no more time to waste. And Phoebe is not here. Here, drink this, my dear love! Now let me tuck you up again while I go andsee what all this is about. Who told you Mrs. Tree was dead? She wasalive enough this morning. "

"Mrs. Weight. She saw the crape on the door, and came straight here totell us. It was thoughtful, James, but so sudden, and you were not here. Maria has gone up there now. Oh, my poor Aunt Marcia!"

"Hum!" said Doctor Stedman. "Mrs. Weight and Mrs. Pryor, eh? A preciouspair! Well, I will soon find out the truth and let you know. Good-by, little woman!"

"Oh, James!" said Miss Vesta, "do you really think--"

"I don't think, I know!" said James Stedman. "Good-by, my Vesta!"

Sure enough, there was crape on the door of Mrs. Tree's house--a longrusty streamer. It hung motionless in the quiet evening air, eloquent ofmany things. 

The door itself was unlocked, and Mrs. Pryor tumbled in headlong, withMrs. Weight at her heels. Both women were too breathless to speak. Theyrushed into the parlor, and stood there, literally mopping and mowing ateach other, handkerchief in hand. 

Something about the air of the little room seemed to arrest the frenziedrush of their curiosity. Yet all was as usual: the dim, antiquerichness, the warm scent of the fragrant woods, the living presence--wasit the only presence?--of the fire on the hearth. Even when the two hadrecovered their breath, neither spoke for some minutes, and it was onlywhen a brand broke and fell forward in tinkling red coals on the marblehearth that Mrs. Pryor found her voice. 

"I declare, Malvina, I feel as if there were some one in this room. Inever was in it without Aunt Marcia, and it seems as if she must come inthis minute. "

"Pretty smart, to be able to sit and stand up at once, at my age, Direxia!" replied Mrs. Tree, composedly. "Tommy is a naughty boy, certainly, but I shall not prosecute him this time. You old goose, Itold him to do it!"

"You--oh, my Solemn Deliverance! she's gone clean out of her wits _this_time, and there's an end of it. Oh! my gracious, Mis' Tree--if the Lordain't good, and sent Doctor Stedman just this 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 James Stedman, taking the tiny witheredhands in his and kissing them, "I wish you might live for ever; but Ican never thank you enough for having been dead for half an hour. It hasmade me the happiest man in the world. I am going to tell Vesta thismoment. It is never 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 am glad to hear it. Vestahas not much sense, James, but then, I never thought you had too much, and she is as good as gold. I wish you both joy, and I shall come to thewedding. Now, Direxia Hawkes, what are you crying about, I should liketo know? Doctor Stedman and Miss Vesta are going to be married, and hightime, too. Is that anything to cry about?"

"She is the beat of all!" cried Direxia Hawkes, through her tears, whichshe was wiping recklessly with a valuable lace 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'm clean tuckered out!"

"Cat's foot!" said Mrs. Tree. 

 THE END.