RUSSELL'S BOOK STOKL 
 
 633 WEST 8th ST. 
 LOS ANGELES,
 
 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES
 
 BOOKS BY CHARLOTTE M. VAILE. 
 
 THE ORCUTT GIRLS ; OR, ONE TERM AT THE ACAD- 
 EMY. 315 pages. Five full-page Illustrations by FRANK 
 T. MERRILL. Cloth. i2mo. $1.50. 
 
 SUE ORCUTT. A SEQUEL TO " THE ORCUTT GIRLS." 
 335 pages. Five full-page Illustrations by FRANK T. 
 MERRILL. Cloth. i2mo. $1.50. 
 
 THE M. M. C. A STORY OF THE GREAT ROCKIES. 232 
 pages. Six full-page Illustrations by SEARS GALLAGHER. 
 Cloth. 8vo. $1.00. 
 
 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES; OR, DR. NORTH- 
 MORE'S DAUGHTERS. 336 pages. Five full-page Illustra- 
 tions by ALICE BARBER STEPHENS. Cloth. I2mo. $1.50.
 
 
 MORTON FOUND TIME TO ANSWER ALL HER QUESTIONS.'
 
 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES 
 
 OR 
 
 DR. NORTHMORE'S DAUGHTERS 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLOTTE M. VAILE 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 ALICE BARBER STEVENS 
 
 3 
 
 BOSTON AND CHICAGO 
 W. A. WILDE COMPANY
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1899, 
 
 BY W. A. WILDE COMPANY. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES.
 
 To J. F. V. 
 
 TOO SLIGHT TO BE AN OFFERING TO HIM, BUT WRITTEN 
 
 IN DEAR REMEMBRANCE OF HIS EARLY HOME 
 
 AND OF MINE 
 
 Cs iLobtnglg UeBicateB 
 
 C. M. V.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. HARVEST AT THE FARM 11 
 
 II. TALKING IT OVER 40 
 
 III. BETWEEN TIMES 59 
 
 IV. AT THE OLD PLACE 75 
 
 V. AUNT KATHARINE SAXON 100 
 
 VI. AUNT KATHARINE Continued .... 130 
 
 VII. HUCKLEBERRYING 147 
 
 VIII. A PAIR OF CALLS 162 
 
 IX. A GLIMPSE FROM THE INSIDE . . . .180 
 
 X. SOME BITS OF POETRY 196 
 
 XI. AN OUTING AND AN INVITATION . . . .213 
 
 XII. WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK 226 
 
 XIII. INTO THE WEST AGAIN 246 
 
 XIV. THE NABOB MAKES AN IMPRESSION . . . 258 
 XV. ESTHER GOES TO PRAYER-MEETING . . .281 
 
 XVI. IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE GET HOME . . 307
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 " MORTON FOUND TIME TO ANSWER ALL HER QUESTIONS " PA GE 
 
 Frontispiece 32 
 
 " HE LEANED ON THE GATE WHEN HE HAD OPENED IT FOR THE 
 
 GIRLS" 69 
 
 " SHE OPENED THE DOOR IN PERSON " IO8 
 
 "TOM AND KATE WATCHED THEM GO" 180 
 
 " ' IT HAS BEEN DELIGHTFUL TO SEE YOU IN THIS LOVELY OLD 
 
 HOME ' " ... . 282
 
 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HARVEST AT THE FARM. 
 
 JUST how Dr. Philip Northmore came to be the owner 
 *J of a farm had never been quite clear to his fellow- 
 townsmen. That he had bought it that pretty stretch 
 of upland five miles from Rushmore in some settle- 
 ment with a friend, who owed him more money than he 
 could ever pay, was the open fact, but how the doctor 
 had believed it to be a good investment for himself was 
 the question. The opportunity to pay interest on a 
 mortgage and make improvements on those charming 
 acres at the expense of his modest professional income 
 was the main part of what he got out of it. The doc- 
 tor, as everybody knew, had no genius for making 
 money. 
 
 However, he had never lamented his purchase. On 
 the principle perhaps which makes the child who draws 
 most heavily on parental care the object of dearest
 
 12 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 affection, this particular possession seemed to be the 
 one on which the good doctor prided himself most. Its 
 fine location and natural beauty were points on which 
 he grew eloquent, and he sometimes referred to its 
 peaceful cultivation as the employment in which he 
 hoped to spend his own declining years, an expectation 
 which it is safe to say none of his acquaintances shared 
 with him. 
 
 So much for Dr. Northmore's interest in the farm. 
 It had a peculiar interest for the feminine part of his 
 household in the early days of July, when wheat harvest 
 had come and the threshing machine was abroad in the 
 land. It was too much to expect of Jake Erlock, the 
 tenant at the farm, who, since his wife's death had lived 
 there alone, that he would provide meals for the score 
 of threshers who would bring the harvesting appetite to 
 the work of the great day. Clearly this fell to the 
 Northmores, and the doctor's wife had risen to the part 
 with her own characteristic energy. But for once, on 
 the very eve of the threshing, she found herself facing 
 a sudden embarrassment. Relatives from a distance 
 had made their unexpected appearance as guests at her 
 house, and to leave them behind, or take them into the 
 crowded doings at the farm, seemed alike impossible. 
 The prompt proposal of her daughters, that they, with 
 the combined wisdom of their seventeen and nineteen
 
 HARVEST AT THE FARM. 13 
 
 years, should manage the harvest dinner, hardly seemed 
 a plan to be adopted, and would have found scant atten- 
 tion but for the unlooked-for support it received from 
 one of the neighbors. 
 
 " Now why don't you let 'em do it ? " said Mrs. El- 
 well, who had happened in at the doctor's an hour after 
 the arrival of the guests. "You've got everything 
 planned out, of course, and there'll be lots of the neigh- 
 bor women in to help. There always is." 
 
 She caught the look of entreaty in the eyes of the 
 girls and the doubt in the eyes of their mother, and 
 added, " Now I think of it, I could go out there myself 
 just as well as not. There isn't anything so very much 
 going on at our house to-morrow, and I'd be right glad 
 to take a hand in it. I'll risk it but what the girls and 
 I can manage." 
 
 Manage ! There was no question on that score. 
 Mrs. Northmore's eyes grew moist and she opened her 
 lips to speak, but her good friend was before her, her 
 pleasant face at that moment the express image of 
 neighborly kindness. " Now, with all you've done for 
 us, you and the doctor, to make a fuss over a little 
 thing like this ! " she said. And Mrs. Northmore, with 
 the grace which can receive as well as render a favor, 
 accepted the offer without a protest. 
 
 That was how it happened that Esther and Kate
 
 14 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 Northmore went to the harvesting at the farm, in 
 their mother's stead, the next morning. Kate, at least, 
 carried no anxiety, but Esther, as the older, could not 
 lay aside some uneasiness, not so much lest things 
 should go wrong as lest their generous friend might 
 be too much burdened, and the thought of all there 
 was to do lent an unusual gravity to her sensitive 
 face. 
 
 It was a perfect July day, with the sky an unbroken 
 blue except for the clouds which floated like golden 
 chaff high in the zenith. The great machine, flaming 
 in crimson against a background of gold, stood among 
 the ripened sheaves, and a score of sunburned men 
 urged the labor which had begun betimes. 
 
 Ah, there is no harvest like this of the wheat. It 
 comes when the year is at its flood, and the sun, 
 rejoicing as a strong man to run a race, holds long 
 on his course against the slow-creeping night. What 
 ingathering of the later months, when the days have 
 grown short and chilly, can match it in joy ? The one 
 is like the victory that comes in youth, when the success 
 of to-day seems the promise for to-morrow ; the other is 
 the reward that comes to the worn and enfeebled man, 
 who whispers in the midst of his gladness : " How slight 
 at best are the gains of life ! " 
 
 Esther was too young to moralize and too busy with
 
 HARVEST AT THE FARM. 15 
 
 the very practical work of helping with the dinner to 
 grow poetical over the harvest scene, but the beauty 
 of it did hold her for a minute with a long admiring 
 gaze as she stood by the well, where she had gone for 
 a pitcher of fresh water. 
 
 A man in gray jeans had hurried from the edge of 
 the field at sight of her, to lower the buckets hanging 
 from the old-fashioned windlass. She detained him a 
 moment when he had handed her the dripping pitcher. 
 
 " We couldn't have had a better day than this, could 
 we ? " she said. " And what a good thing it is that 
 you and father decided to put in the wheat ! He was 
 speaking of that at breakfast this morning, and he says 
 it was all your doing. There was such a poor crop last 
 year that for his part he was almost afraid to try it 
 again." 
 
 The man's face shone with gratified pride. " Well, I 
 reckon the doctor ain't fretting over it much now that 
 I had my way," he said. And then he added mod- 
 estly : " But I might have missed it. You never can 
 tell how a crop'll come out till you see the grain in 
 the measure." 
 
 "Well, we're seeing that to-day," said the girl. 
 " How much will there be ? " 
 
 "We can't rightly tell till it's all threshed out," 
 said the man; "but Tom Balcom 'lows it'll average
 
 l6 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 as well's anything they've threshed, and they've had 
 thirty-five bushels to the acre." 
 
 Figures did not mean much to Esther, but her 
 "Oh!" had a note of appreciation. Then, as he 
 was turning away, she said earnestly : " I hope we 
 shall have a good dinner for you, Mr. Erlock. 
 Mother was ever so sorry she couldn't come out to- 
 day herself; I believe she was afraid you wouldn't 
 fare as well as you ought without her. But Mrs. El- 
 well came, and between us all we won't let you 
 suffer." 
 
 " I hain't a bit o' doubt about the victuals being 
 good," said the man, gallantly. " I hope you found 
 things all right in the house. I tried to red up a 
 little for you." 
 
 " Oh, everything was in beautiful order, and the 
 women are all praising your good housekeeping," 
 said Esther, smiling. 
 
 He looked at once pleased and embarrassed. "I 
 did the best I could," he said, then turned with an 
 awkward nod and hurried again to his work. 
 
 She remembered hers too, and hastened with her 
 pitcher back to the house. It was a one-story frame, 
 with gray shingled sides and a deep drooping roof 
 whose forward projection formed a porch across the 
 entire front. Ordinarily it wore an expression of shy
 
 HARVEST AT THE FARM. \f 
 
 reserve, but to-day, with doors and windows open, 
 and the hum of voices sounding through and round 
 it, it seemed to have taken a new interest in life 
 and looked a willing part of the cheerful scene. 
 
 The kitchen which the girl entered was full of 
 country women, so full indeed that it seemed a won- 
 der they could accomplish any work, but every one 
 was busy except a young woman with a baby in her 
 arms, who sat complacently watching the labors of 
 the others. 
 
 It is the neighborly fashion in the middle West 
 for the women of adjoining farms to help each other 
 in the labors of this busiest time in the year, and 
 the custom had not been omitted to-day because there 
 was no one to return the service. It was rendered 
 willingly as ever, partly from regard for Dr. North- 
 more, and partly from sympathy with the lonely 
 householder who managed his farm. 
 
 "I had to stop and talk a minute with Jake Er- 
 lock," said Esther, apologetic for her slight loitering 
 now that she felt the hurry of the work again. "He 
 came up to draw the water for me, and you ought 
 to have seen him blush when I told him you all 
 thought he was a good housekeeper." 
 
 " Well, if he has any doubt what we think on that 
 point, he'd better come in here and we'll tell him," 
 c
 
 1 8 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 said a woman who was grinding coffee at a mill 
 fixed to the wall. " I don't believe there's another 
 man in this township that would manage as well as 
 he does. I wouldn't answer for the way things 
 would look at our house if 'twas my man that had 
 the running of 'em." 
 
 Groans and headshakings followed this remark. 
 Apparently none of the women present felt any con- 
 fidence in the ability of their respective men to run 
 the domestic machinery. 
 
 "Well, Mis' Erlock was a mighty good house- 
 keeper herself," observed one of them. " And I 
 reckon Jake thinks it wouldn't be showing proper re- 
 spect to her memory to let everything go at loose 
 ends now she's gone. I tell you, Jake's an uncom- 
 mon good man in more ways than one. 'Tain't every- 
 body that would stay single as long as he has, but 
 that's just what I expected from the feelings he 
 showed at the funeral, and it coming so long after- 
 ward too." 
 
 A murmur of assent showed that the speaker was not 
 the only one who remembered the emotion of the be- 
 reaved man on that mournful occasion, which, as had 
 been suggested, occurred some time after his wife's 
 death, the. delay of the sermon devoted to her memory 
 being occasioned, as often happens in country districts
 
 HARVEST AT THE FARM. 19 
 
 of the West and South, by the absence of the preacher 
 proper, whose extended circuit gives him but a portion 
 of the year in one place. 
 
 " Well, 'twas to his credit, of course," observed an 
 elderly woman who was shelling peas ; " but I must say 
 I don't like this way of putting off the funeral so long. 
 I think burying people and preaching about 'em ought 
 to go together, and if you can't have your own preacher, 
 you'd better put up with somebody else, or go without." 
 
 " I don't know about that," said the young woman 
 with the baby. "It looks to me as if folks were in a 
 mighty hurry to get the last word said when they can't 
 wait for the right one to say it. I shouldn't want my 
 husband to be so keen to get through with it all, if 'twas 
 me that was taken." 
 
 " Maybe you'd want him to do like the man that took 
 his second wife to hear his first wife's funeral," retorted 
 the other. 
 
 The defender of local custom admitted, in the midst 
 of a general laugh, that this was carrying it too far, and 
 then the conversation turned on the probability of Jake 
 Erlock's marrying again, the various suitable persons to 
 be found should he feel so inclined, and the importance 
 in general of men having some one to take care of 
 them, and of women having men and their houses to 
 take care of.
 
 2O WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 The subject which, with its ramifications, seemed 
 fairly inexhaustible was making Kate Northmore yawn 
 and had fairly driven Esther from the room, when a 
 young man with a bright, sunburned face and a pair of 
 straight, broad shoulders looked in at the window. 
 
 " My, how good it smells in here ! " he exclaimed in a 
 voice that went well with the face. " What all are 
 we going to have for dinner, Aunt Jenny ? " 
 
 Mrs. Elwell, who was testing the heat of the oven on 
 a plump bare arm, turned a flushed face and motherly 
 smile on the speaker. 
 
 " Everything nice," she said. " You never saw a bet- 
 ter dinner than the girls have brought out for you. 
 What do you say to fried chicken, and new potatoes, 
 and green peas, with pie and doughnuts to top off, and 
 lots of other good things thrown in extra ? " 
 
 The young man smacked his lips and sent a devour- 
 ing glance around the room. " Say ! " he repeated. 
 " Why, I say it's enough to make a fellow feel like John 
 Ridd and thank the Lord for the room there is in him. 
 When are you going to give us a chance at all that ? " 
 
 " When the bell rings, of course," said Kate North- 
 more, looking up at him with a saucy glance from the 
 meal she was sifting. " You didn't expect to get any- 
 thing to eat now, I hope." 
 
 " Oh, not anything much," said the young man, help-
 
 HARVEST AT THE FARM. 21 
 
 ing himself to a doughnut from a plate which stood 
 within easy reach. " I just looked in to tell you that 
 while you're getting, you'd better get us a plenty. 
 We're a fearful hungry crowd, and there won't be much 
 left over ; but if there should be, it might come in 
 handy to-morrow." 
 
 " To-morrow ! " repeated Kate, letting the meal which 
 was whirling under her hand fall level in the pan. 
 " You don't mean that there's any danger of your being 
 here to-morrow, do you ? " 
 
 The young man brushed the chaff from the shoul- 
 ders of his blue flannel shirt, and set his straw hat 
 a little further on the back of his head before he 
 answered. Kate's " To-morrow " had put a complete 
 pause on the talk of the room, and every woman there 
 was looking at him anxiously. 
 
 " Well, I wouldn't really say that there's any need of 
 worrying about it yet" he said, lowering his voice to a 
 confidential tone ; " but you see the men have heard that 
 you and Esther are such stunning good cooks that 
 well, of course, I don't want to give 'em away, but I 
 don't know as you can blame 'em any for wanting to 
 make the work hold out so as to get in an extra meal 
 or two here, if they can. That's all." 
 
 There was a shout at this, and Mrs. Elwell said 
 reproachfully, " Now, Morton, quit your fooling. Aren't
 
 22 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 you ashamed of yourself to come scaring the girls with 
 your talk about to-morrow ? Why, we thought the 
 machine had broken down, or something of that sort." 
 
 He did look a little conscience-smitten just then, as 
 Esther, who had caught some hint of excitement in 
 the dining room, where she was setting the table, ap- 
 peared in the doorway, looking really troubled. Kate 
 was facing him with a different expression. 
 
 " Well, since you're so anxious about to-morrow, Mort 
 
 'Elwell, you needn't eat any more of those doughnuts," 
 
 she said, snatching up the plate toward which his hand 
 
 was moving a second time, and setting it out of his 
 
 reach. "We may want them, you know." 
 
 He drew down his face to an injured expression. 
 "That's the way you treat a body, is it, when he comes 
 to give you a friendly warning? All right, I'll go now. 
 I see I'm not wanted." 
 
 He shifted his position as he spoke, and the next 
 moment the pitchfork, on which he had been leaning, 
 was thrust through the window, and as quickly with- 
 drawn, with a doughnut sticking on every point. 
 " Good-by, Kate," he shouted, as he disappeared. " If 
 the doughnuts don't hold out, you can make some 
 cookies for to-morrow." 
 
 He had the best of it, and after a moment, appar- 
 ently, even Kate forgave him, " the rascal," as she called
 
 HARVEST AT THE FARM. 23 
 
 him, with a toss of her pretty head. And then the 
 talk of the kitchen took a new turn, suggested by the 
 thought of all the ills which would have followed if an 
 accident had really happened to the machine. There 
 had been such accidents in the experience of most of 
 those present, and they were recounted now with much 
 fulness of detail and some rivalry as to the amount of 
 agony endured in the several cases by the workers in 
 the culinary department. 
 
 " It's the worst thing there is about threshing," said 
 the woman who had related the most harrowing tale 
 of all. " I don't care how many men there are, and 
 I don't mind cooking for 'em, and setting out the best 
 I've got, seems as if a body warn't thankful for the 
 crop if they don't, but when the machine gets out of 
 order, and the work hangs on, and you have the men 
 on your hands for three or four days running, just eat- 
 ing you out of house and home, and keeping you on 
 the jump from morning to night, getting things on the 
 table and off again, I tell you it's something awful." 
 
 There was no demur to this sentiment, but there was 
 still another phase of distress to be mentioned. 
 
 "No," said one of the others, "there ain't anything 
 quite as bad as that, but it's the next thing to it to have 
 the threshers come down on you without your having 
 fair warning that they're coming I never will forget
 
 24 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 what a time we had last year. Abe had been telling 
 me all along that they were going to stack the wheat 
 and thresh in the fall, when one day, 'most sundown, 
 up comes the threshing machine right into our barn 
 lot. I told the men there must be some mistake, but 
 they said, no, they'd just made a bargain with Abe, and 
 were going to begin on our wheat in the morning. I 
 tell you I was that mad I couldn't see straight. Abe 
 he tried to smooth it over, said he found the men had 
 been thrown out at one place, and he thought he'd 
 better close right in on 'em, and I needn't to worry 
 about the victuals just give 'em what I had." 
 
 She paused with an accent of inexpressible contempt, 
 and covered her husband's remarks on that point with 
 the words, " You know how men talk ! Why, even our 
 side meat was most gone, and I hadn't a single chicken 
 frying size. Well, I tell you I didn't let the grass 
 grow under my feet nor under Abe's neither. I made 
 him hitch up and put himself into town the liveliest 
 ever he did, and what with me sitting up most all night 
 to brown coffee, and churn, and make pies, we some- 
 how managed to put things through. I was plumb 
 wore out when 'twas all over, but they do say the men 
 bragged all the rest of the season on the dinner I 
 gave 'em." 
 
 Great applause followed this story, and an elderly
 
 HARVEST AT THE FARM. 25 
 
 woman remarked : " That's one good thing about hav- 
 ing the threshers. You're sure to get your name up 
 for a good cook if your victuals suit the men. I'll 
 warrant you'll get a recommend after to-day, girls," 
 she said, with a nod at Kate and Esther. " And it 
 ain't a bad thing to have at your age," she added, 
 with a knowing wink. 
 
 Esther flushed, with a look of annoyance, but Kate 
 responded gayly : " All right. Don't any of you tell 
 that they made the pies and doughnuts at home, and 
 don't you ever let it out that you fried the chickens, 
 Mrs. Elwell." 
 
 There was a sisterly resemblance between the two 
 girls. Each was fair, with dark hair and eyes, but 
 Esther was generally counted the prettier. She had 
 a delicate, oval face, with soft, responsive eyes, and a 
 color that came and went as easily as ripples in a 
 wheat-field ; the sort of face which, without the slight- 
 est coquetry of expression, was almost sure to hold 
 and draw again the interested glance of those who 
 met her. Kate's was of the commoner type, and yet 
 there was nothing too common in its strong, pleasant 
 lines, or the straightforward frankness of her ready 
 smile. 
 
 With so many to help, the preparations for dinner 
 could not but move briskly. At sharp twelve o'clock
 
 26 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 the farm bell, mounted on a hickory post at the corner 
 of the house, rang out its invitation, and almost in- 
 stantly the engine stopped puffing, the whir of labor 
 in the fields slackened, and the men had turned their 
 faces toward the house. They were not a company of 
 common laborers. Many of them were well-to-do farm- 
 ers, who gave their services here in repayment or 
 anticipation of similar aid in their own time of need. 
 Most of them knew the Northmore girls, and had a 
 friendly greeting for Kate as they passed her, standing 
 by the swinging bell. 
 
 "Well, Miss Kate," said one of them, a tall, angular 
 man, who, in spite of his office in the district as the 
 New Light preacher, was one of the most active work- 
 ers, " I'll wager you never rang a bell before for such 
 a hard-looking crowd. We're ' knaves that smell of 
 sweat.' But there's folks that look better in worse 
 business, and I reckon you don't mind the looks of us 
 as long as we behave ourselves. How many do you 
 want at once ? I s'pose we can't all sit down at the 
 first table." 
 
 " Well, then," broke in a hearty young farmer, with 
 a twinkle in his eyes, " I move that the preacher goes 
 in with the last crowd. We don't any of us want to 
 run our chances after he gets through." 
 
 " Oh," said the preacher, good-naturedly, " I was
 
 HARVEST AT THE FARM. 2/ 
 
 calculating to wait, anyhow. Shan't have any scruples 
 then against taking the last piece." 
 
 "Well, I'll engage that the last piece shall be as 
 good as the first," said Kate; "but we can't give more 
 than ten of you elbow-room at once. I might count 
 ' Eeny, meny, miny, mo,' to see which of you shall 
 come in now, but there's a pan of corn-bread in the 
 oven that I'm watching, and I think you'd better 
 settle it yourselves." 
 
 Apparently there was no difficulty, for in an extraor- 
 dinarily short space of time the toilets made at the 
 well were finished, and the dinner was furnished with 
 guests. Loaded as the table was with good things, 
 it might have seemed part of a Thanksgiving scene but 
 that the holiday air was quite wanting to the men who 
 sat around it. There was not much conversation. 
 Some observations on crops and the price of wheat, 
 or an occasional bit of good-natured raillery, filled the 
 infrequent pauses in the business of eating, but the 
 latter was carried on with a heartiness which spoke 
 well for those who had spread the feast. 
 
 Outside, however, in the shadow of the great beech 
 by the kitchen door, there was a waiting group who 
 found time for talking, and the preacher, whose long, 
 lank figure was stretched in the midst, was easily taking 
 the leading part. Some remark had evidently started
 
 28 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 him on a train of reminiscences, and his mellow, half- 
 drawling tones floated through the kitchen door, and 
 mingled with the clatter of the dishes. 
 
 " Yes, there's been a heap o' change in this country 
 since I came here twenty years ago. 'Twas pretty 
 much all timber through here then, and there warn't 
 a foot o' tile in this end o' the county. I hired out to 
 old Jim Rader. He was just clearing up his farm. 
 Lord, he used to have me up by four o'clock in the 
 morning, grubbing stumps, with the fog so thick you 
 couldn't tell stump from fog before you." 
 
 " I reckon you made the acquaintance of the ager 
 'bout that time," observed one of the group as the 
 preacher paused. 
 
 "Ague! " repeated the other, raising himself on his 
 elbow and eying the speaker. "Wall, I reckon! If 
 there's any kind I didn't get on speaking terms with, I'd 
 like to know the name of it. I've had the third-day 
 ague, and the seventh-day ague, the shaking ague, and 
 the dumb ague though why 'twas ever called 'dumb' 
 beats me. If there's anything calculated to make a 
 man open his mouth and express his mind freely on the 
 way things go in this neck o' wilderness, it's that partic- 
 ular kind. Lord! My bones have ached so, I'd have 
 given any man a black eye that said there was only 
 two hundred of 'em. However, I got shet of it at last,
 
 HARVEST AT THE FARM. 2Q 
 
 taking quinine. Reckon this country couldn't have 
 been settled up without quinine, and I stayed with 
 Rader two years and helped him break in the land. 
 Didn't like the business much, but I had a notion in my 
 head that I wanted to make a preacher of myself, and 
 I didn't quit till I had the means to do it. Didn't get 
 over-much schooling, but I wouldn't take a heap for 
 what I did get. Mort ! " he exclaimed, turning abruptly 
 to the young man at his side, " how have you been 
 getting on at college ? They say you're going to stick 
 right to it." 
 
 " I haven't had to give up yet," said the young man, 
 quietly ; " and I don't think it's likely any part of the 
 course will be harder than the first two years." 
 
 " Reckon your uncle don't come down very heavy 
 with the stamps yet," said the preacher, grimly. 
 
 The young man flushed. " 'Tisn't my uncle's busi- 
 ness to send me to college," he said ; " I never asked 
 him to." 
 
 " That's right, that's right," said the preacher, heartily. 
 " I like your grit. For that matter, you might as well 
 spend your breath trying to blow up a rain as trying to 
 persuade him to spend any money on schooling that he 
 didn't haf to. But how did you make it ? You must 
 have found it hard pulling at first." 
 
 "Oh, at first I sawed wood," said the other, lightly,
 
 3<D WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 " and I'll own that was hard pulling. Half a cord 
 before breakfast is a pretty fair stint, but I managed to 
 make it. After that 'twas different things. I never 
 had any trouble getting work. It was one man's horse 
 and another man's lawn, and in the spring I had a 
 great run helping the women at house-cleaning. Got 
 quite a reputation for laying carpets. This year there 
 hasn't been quite as much variety in my jobs, for I 
 taught school in the winter." 
 
 The preacher's sallow face was tense and the shrewd 
 gray eyes gleamed as he listened. "You'll do, Mort 
 Elwell! " he said. " If I was a betting man, I'd bet on 
 you and take all the chances going." 
 
 At that moment, Mrs. Elwell, who was standing in 
 the kitchen doorway for a moment's rest and coolness, 
 was saying to Esther Northmore, with a little sigh, " I 
 don't wonder he had all he could do at house-cleaning. 
 If he knew how I missed him last spring! There's 
 nobody 'round here that can put down carpets equal to 
 him." And then she sighed again, this time more 
 heavily. Every one knew that if she had her way, her 
 husband's nephew, who had grown up as one of their 
 own family, would not be working his way through 
 college in this stern fashion. 
 
 As for Morton himself, perhaps, being a young 
 fellow not much given to talking of his private affairs
 
 HARVEST AT THE FARM. 31 
 
 in. public, he was glad to see a stream of men issuing 
 just then from the house, and it was but a few minutes 
 later when a second call summoned him and his fellows 
 to their places. 
 
 It was hardly an hour that the wheels of the great 
 machine stood still. At the end of that time the 
 workers were all at their places again. And now that 
 the masculine appetites were satisfied, the women sat 
 down to eat, an occupation which they prolonged far 
 beyond the time of their predecessors. To the North- 
 more girls, indeed, it seemed as if it would never be 
 over, but there came an end to it at last, and even to 
 the washing of the dishes. 
 
 Esther would not consent to the proposal of the 
 women that they should do the work without her, but 
 Kate with better wisdom perhaps accepted it with 
 the frankest pleasure. She was a girl who had a 
 healthy curiosity about everything that went on around 
 her, and no one was surprised to see her presently 
 standing in the field, beside the engine that made the 
 wheels of the threshing machine go round, getting 
 points from the man in charge as to how they did it. 
 After that an invitation from Morton Elwell, who was 
 on the feed board, to come up and watch the work from 
 that point was instantly accepted, amid the laughing 
 approval of the crowd. For her sake the speed of the
 
 32 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 work was slackened a little, the bundles were thrown 
 from the loaded wagon more slowly, and Morton found 
 time, while cutting their bands and thrusting them in at 
 their place, to answer all her questions. 
 
 It was a pretty picture she made, standing in her 
 blue gingham dress on this crimson throne, her sun- 
 bonnet fallen on her shoulders and her dark hair blow- 
 ing about her face, but she knew nothing of this. 
 She was thinking only of that wonderful machine, 
 and she knew before she left her place how it 
 whirled the loosened sheaves from sight, rubbed out 
 the grain in its rough iron palms, sent the free clean 
 wheat in a rushing stream down to the waiting meas- 
 ure, and flung out the broken straw to be caught on 
 the pitchforks of the laborers behind and pressed to 
 its place on the growing stack. 
 
 There was an exhilaration in it not to be dreamed 
 of by her sister, who glanced at her occasionally from 
 the kitchen windows and wondered how she could 
 bear to be in the midst of all that heat and noise. 
 For her part, she was quite content to let the ma- 
 chine stand merely as part of the picture. And per- 
 haps for her it wore the greater dignity from her 
 vague idea of its internal workings. 
 
 The afternoon wore away swiftly. There was a 
 five o'clock supper to be served to the men, but this
 
 HARVEST AT THE FARM. 33 
 
 was not the elaborate affair the dinner had been, and 
 by sunset of the long bright day the work indoors 
 and out had been brought to a successful finish. 
 The shining stubble of the field lay bare except for 
 the fresh clean straw stack. The machine was rum- 
 bling on its way to another farm, and Jake Erlock's 
 kitchen had been restored to a state of order equal 
 to that in which his kindly neighbors had found it. 
 
 It had been expected that Dr. Northmore would 
 come for his daughters, but, as he had not appeared 
 when the work was finished, they accepted the offer 
 of a ride home with a farmer who was going their 
 way. The sight of them sitting in the big Stude- 
 baker wagon must have acted as a prompter to Mor- 
 ton Elwell's memory, for he suddenly recalled that 
 he had an important errand in town, and proposed to 
 go along too, a proposal to which the owner of the 
 wagon agreed with the greatest good will. There 
 was not a chair for him, the girls had been estab- 
 lished in the only two, and the farmer and his hired 
 man occupied the seat, but the young man settled 
 him on a bundle of straw in the bottom of the wagon, 
 with an air of supreme content. 
 
 They were old comrades, he and the Northmore 
 girls ; the girls could not remember the time when 
 he had not been their escort and champion, their
 
 34 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 Fidus Achates, all the more free to devote himself to 
 their service because he had no sisters or even girl 
 cousins of his own. He was two years older than 
 either of them, and his years at college seemed to 
 make him older still, but if his absence had made 
 any difference in the perfect freedom of their rela- 
 tions, he, at least, had not guessed it. 
 
 " Well, you girls must be glad to be through with 
 this," he said, as the team started at a rattling pace 
 down the road. " I know you're awfully tired." 
 
 He included them both in his glance, but it rested 
 longest on Esther's face, which certainly looked a 
 little weary under the shadow of her wide straw hat. 
 
 " You must be tired yourself, Mort," she said, look- 
 ing down at him. "You've been working ever since 
 daylight, haven't you ? " 
 
 "Oh, but I'm used to that," he said gayly, "and 
 this is new business for you. I must say, though, I 
 never saw things go better. There won't be anybody 
 round here to beat you at housekeeping if you keep 
 on like this." 
 
 She frowned slightly. " It was your aunt who 
 managed everything," she said ; "all we did was to 
 help a little:" 
 
 "That isn't what she'll say about it," said the 
 young man, and then he added warmly : " but my
 
 HARVEST AT THE FARM. 35 
 
 Aunt Jenny's a host wherever you put her. There^s 
 no doubt about that. My, what a good place this 
 world would be if everybody in it was made like 
 her ! " And there was an assent to this which ought 
 to have made the good woman's ears burn, if there 
 is any truth in the old saying. 
 
 For a while the talk ran lightly on the incidents of 
 the day ; then it grew more personal, and plans for 
 the summer fell under discussion. Morton's were all 
 for work. He was of age, master of his own time, and 
 he meant to make a good sum toward the expenses of 
 the coming year at college. He talked of his hopes 
 with the utmost frankness, and then questioned of 
 theirs as one who had the fullest rights of friendship. 
 
 " Will you go away anywhere ? " he asked ; " or are 
 you going to stay at home all summer ? " 
 
 " That depends," said Kate, answering for both. 
 " We may go up to Maxinkuckee for a little while ; 
 but what we'd like to do, what we'd like best " 
 she paused upon the words with a lifting of her 
 hands and the drawing of a long ecstatic breath, 
 "would be to make a visit at grandfather's. You 
 can't think how he's urging us to come." 
 
 " Do you mean go to New England ? " he exclaimed, 
 sitting up straight on his bundle of straw. 
 
 "Yes, to mother's old home," said Kate. "Just
 
 36 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 think, we haven't been there since we were little 
 girls. Mother's been trying to persuade grandfather 
 to come out here, but he says he's too old to make 
 the journey, and that we must come there. He has 
 fairly set his heart on it." 
 
 "And so have the others too," said Esther, "Stella's 
 letters have been full of it for the last six months." 
 
 " Stella's that cousin of yours who's such an artist, 
 isn't she ? " said Morton. He was looking extremely 
 interested. 
 
 " Oh, she's " an artist and everything else that's 
 lovely," said Esther. "I don't suppose you ever saw 
 the kind of girl that she is. She has a studio in 
 Boston in the winters. She sent me a picture of it 
 once, and it's perfectly charming. And only think, 
 she's been in Europe twice once she was studying 
 over there. And she's seen those wonderful old 
 places and the famous pictures, and been a part of 
 everything that's beautiful." 
 
 "That's the sort of thing you'd like to do your- 
 self, I suppose," said the young man, drawing a 
 wisp of straw slowly through his fingers. 
 
 " Like it ! " she cried. " To travel, to study, to see 
 beautiful things, to hear beautiful music, and to be 
 in touch every day with charming, cultivated people ! 
 Oh, if I had half a chance, wouldn't I take it ! "
 
 HARVEST AT THE FARM. 37 
 
 There was something very wistful in her voice as 
 she said it, but not more wistful than the look that 
 came into Morton Elwell's eyes at that moment. He 
 turned them away from her face, and the rattle of 
 the big wagon filled the silence. 
 
 "You ought to show Mort that picture of Stella 
 you got the other day," said Kate, suddenly. 
 
 Esther took a letter from her pocket. " I brought it 
 out to the farm to-day on purpose to show your aunt," 
 she said, and she handed him a photograph which he 
 regarded for a moment with a bewildered expression. 
 
 "Why, it looks like a picture of Greek statuary," 
 he said; "one of the old goddesses, or something of 
 that sort." 
 
 "That's just the way she meant to have it look," 
 said Esther, triumphantly. " You see how artistic 
 she is." 
 
 The young man still looked mystified. " But is 
 her hair really white, like that ? " he asked. 
 
 "Why, of course not," said Esther, in a rather 
 disgusted tone. " She powdered it and did it in a 
 low coil for the sake of the picture. Then she put 
 the white folds over her shoulders to make it look 
 like a bust against the dark background, and she 
 had the lights and shadows arranged to give just the 
 right effect. Isn't it exquisite ? "
 
 38 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 " I can't say I admire it," said the young man, 
 grimly; "I'd rather see people look as if they were 
 made of flesh and blood." 
 
 Kate laughed. She had privately expressed the 
 same opinion herself, but she did not choose to en- 
 courage him in criticising her relatives. 
 
 "You're an insensible Philistine, Mort Elwell," she 
 said, with a sly glance at her sister. " That's what 
 Stella'd call you, and she knows." 
 
 The point of the taunt was lost on the young man, 
 but he had an impression, derived from early les- 
 sons in the Sabbath School, that the Philistines 
 were a race of heathen idolaters, and he ~esented the 
 charge with spirit. 
 
 " You'd better call your cousin the Philistine," he re- 
 torted ; " I'm sure I have no liking for graven images." 
 
 This was too much for Esther. She snatched the 
 picture from his hand and bent a look of admiration 
 upon the shapely white head, with its classic profile 
 and downcast eyes, which made ample amends for 
 the cold scrutiny to which it had just been subjected. 
 
 " It is perfectly beautiful," she said, with slow 
 emphasis ; " I don't see how you can be unappre- 
 ciative." 
 
 Morton did not press his obnoxious opinion. He 
 grew rather silent, and except for an occasional
 
 HARVEST AT THE FARM. 39 
 
 sally from Kate, conversation was at a low ebb for 
 the rest of the way. 
 
 Meanwhile the sunset flamed and faded in the 
 west. The evening breeze sprang up, and cool, 
 restful shadows fell on the wide, rich landscape. 
 
 " Home at last ! " cried Kate, as a bend in the road 
 brought them suddenly upon a house of the colonial 
 style, shaded by fine old trees, at the edge of town. 
 "And there's mother in the doorway looking for us."
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 TALKING IT OVER. 
 
 MRS. NORTHMORE was at the gate to greet her 
 daughters when the great wagon stopped. 
 
 "We knew you would find some one to bring you 
 home," she said, smiling up at them. " Your father 
 was disappointed that he couldn't come for you himself, 
 but he took our friends to the station, and then, just as 
 he was ready to start for you, he was called to the other 
 end of the town. Come in, Morton," she added, turn- 
 ing to the young man, who was helping the girls over 
 the wheel ; " I must have a full account of the doings 
 to-day, and it may be a one-sided report if I have only 
 the family version of it." 
 
 " But there is only one side, Mrs. Northmore," said 
 the young man. " Everything went gloriously, spe- 
 cially the dinner, and everybody behaved beautifully 
 except me. Kate'll tell you how bad I was. No, I 
 can't stay. There's an errand I must do before dark." 
 
 "I shan't take anybody's report against _jw/, Morton, 
 unless it's your own, and I'm not sure that I'll admit 
 
 40
 
 TALKING IT OVER. 41 
 
 even that," said Mrs. Northmore. It was in her eyes as 
 well as her voice how much she liked the big brown fel- 
 low. " Well, if you must go but come and see us 
 soon. Don't work so hard this summer that you'll have 
 no time for your friends." 
 
 She took an arm of each of the girls and walked 
 with them up the gravel path between the rows of 
 blossoming catalpas. " So th'e day has gone well ? " 
 she said, glancing from one to the other. 
 
 " As if you had been there yourself, mother/'said 
 Esther, and Kate added : " It's been a regular picnic. 
 I never enjoyed a day more in my life." 
 
 In different ways each of the girls resembled her 
 strongly. Esther had the broad, low forehead and 
 serious eyes, but Kate had the resolute mouth with 
 a touch of playfulness lurking at the corners. A 
 girl, much younger than either, rolled sleepily out 
 of the hammock as they stepped on the veranda. 
 
 " Oh, I'm glad you've come," she said, rubbing 
 her eyes. "This has been the longest, stupidest day 
 I ever saw. Papa's been away, and mamma's been 
 busy with the company, and Aunt Milly's been so 
 cross because she couldn't go out to the farm, that 
 she's been ready to snap my head off every time I 
 looked in at the kitchen. Even the cat went off 
 visiting."
 
 42 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 " What a dull day you've had of it, Virgie ! " said 
 Esther, kissing the child's flushed cheek. " But 
 what ailed Aunt Milly ? She knows she couldn't be 
 spared to go out there to-day." 
 
 "Of course she knows it," said Mrs. Northmore, 
 " and she would have felt even worse to be spared 
 from here, but I suspect the real grievance was the 
 cheerfulness with which you girls left her behind. 
 She wanted to feel that she was needed in both 
 places. Poor old Milly, she can't reconcile herself 
 to the idea that we can really get along without her 
 anywhere." 
 
 " Why didn't we think of that ? " cried Kate. " If 
 we'd asked her advice about a lot of things, and shaken 
 our heads over the difficulties we should get into, with 
 her out of our reach, she'd have been happy all day. 
 Esther, you and I are a pair of stupids, but I'll make 
 it up to her yet." 
 
 " Oh, she's forgiven you already," said Mrs. North- 
 more ; " and if she punishes you at all, it'll be by way 
 of showing you some special favors, you may be sure 
 of that." 
 
 " There she comes now," said Kate, as footsteps 
 were heard approaching on the tiled floor of the hall ; 
 and she added, listening to the thud of the heavy feet, 
 whose stout slippers dropping at the heels doubled
 
 TALKING IT OVER. 43 
 
 the fall with a solemn tap, "walking as if she 
 went on two wooden legs and a pair of crutches." 
 
 The comparison was not bad, and the laugh that 
 followed it had hardly ended when the old servant 
 showed a lugubrious face at the door. 
 
 " Howdy, Aunt Milly ? " cried Kate before the other 
 had a chance to speak. " Here we are, you see, home 
 again. I was just coming out to the kitchen to tell 
 you how we got along, and see if you could give us 
 a bite to eat. I suppose you think we had our suppers 
 at the farm, and so we did ; but it wasn't like one of 
 your suppers, and I guess you know how much appe- 
 tite you have when you're all mixed up with the cook- 
 ing. Don't bother to bring anything in here, but just 
 let us sit out in the kitchen with you." 
 
 At this artful proposal Milly's face shortened unmis- 
 takably. " Don't know's I've got anything you'd keer 
 about," she began with a show of reluctance, "but I'll 
 knock round and see what I can find for you." 
 
 "Oh, you'll find something you always do," said 
 Kate. " By the way, I thought I smelled something 
 good when I was coming up to the house." 
 
 " It was the catalpa blossoms, and you know it," said 
 Esther, laughing, and looking at her sister with a re- 
 proving glance, when the door had closed behind Milly. 
 
 " Well, but she did make a spice cake, and it smells
 
 44 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 awfully good," said Virgie. " It's warm now, and she 
 wouldn't break a crumb of it for me." 
 
 " There ! " said Kate, triumphantly. " You see how 
 people are helped out, when they prevaricate for high 
 moral ends. Come on to the kitchen. I'll never pre- 
 tend to be smart again if I can't put Aunt Milly in 
 good spirits before we've been there long." 
 
 It would have been an incomplete picture indeed of 
 the Northmore household which did not include old 
 Aunt Milly. An important figure she was and had 
 been ever since the girls could remember. But in 
 truth her connection with the family was of much older 
 date than that. She had been born and reared a slave 
 on the Kentucky plantation which had been the home 
 of Dr. Northmore's boyhood. He had left it earlier 
 than she, having before the war gone out from the 
 large circle of brothers to establish himself in his pro- 
 fession in a neighboring state. But when, in the 
 changed times, the servants had scattered from the old 
 place, Milly had made her way to the home of her 
 favorite, and urged with many entreaties that she might 
 fill a post of service there. 
 
 Dr. Northmore could not resist the appeal, nor his 
 young wife his wish in the matter, and though the ser- 
 vice had been a trying one at first to the energetic 
 Northern girl, yet, as time went on, and children, one
 
 TALKING IT OVER. 4$ 
 
 after another, were added to the household, she learned 
 to set truer value on the faithful, affectionate servant, 
 whose devotion nothing could tire; and now, when 
 Milly was old and infirm, her place was as secure as 
 it had been in her palmiest days. She herself had full 
 confidence in her ability to fill it still, and her one fear 
 for the future was that she might be forced to share 
 it with one of those " transients " who rendered their 
 service by the week, a class for which her high-bred 
 contempt knew no bounds. 
 
 Kate had not misjudged the effect of her stratagem 
 on the simple old soul. It was a long time since her 
 young ladies had done her the honor of eating at her 
 own pine table, and Milly forgot the grief of the day 
 in the zest of her hospitality, and accepted their praises 
 for the feast she furnished, with a delight quite differ- 
 ent from the forgiving dignity with which she had 
 meant to pierce the hearts of her darlings. 
 
 "Well, yes, I did stir up a little cake for you," she 
 admitted, when Kate, after due admiration of the fresh 
 and fragrant loaf, accused her of misrepresenting the 
 extent of her supplies. " Laws, I knew you'd be 
 wantin' a bite of somethin' afore you went to bed. It 
 allers makes my stomach feel powerful empty to ride 
 in one o' them wagons, jouncin' round in them straight- 
 backed cheers."
 
 46 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 "And you must have named it for me, Aunt Milly," 
 said Kate, with her eyes on the cake. 
 
 This was an allusion to one of Milly's culinary 
 secrets, and she received it with a smile which fairly 
 transfigured the dusky old face. She had her own 
 theories of cake-making, theories which she maintained 
 with the unanswerable logic of her own surpassing 
 skill. 
 
 "You see, Miss Kate," she had said years before, 
 when the girl had come to the kitchen with a request 
 to be instructed in the mysteries of the art, "there's 
 somethin' curus about makin' cake. It ain't all in 
 havin' a good receipt, though it Stan's to reason if you 
 don't take the right things there's no use puttin' 'em 
 together. An' it ain't all in the way you put 'em to- 
 gether neither, though I 'low that makes a heap o' dif- 
 ference. Folks has their 'pinions, an' there's some that 
 says you must take your hand to the mixin', an' some 
 that says you must use a wooden spoon, an' I knew 
 one cook that would have it you must stir the batter all 
 one way, or 'twould be plumb ruined. But I can't say 
 as \jest hold with any o' them idees, nor yet with the 
 notions folks has about the bakin', though it's true as 
 you live, a body's got to be mighty keerful on that p'int. 
 Laws, I've known folks dassn't let a cat run across the 
 kitchen floor while the cake's in the oven.
 
 TALKING IT OVER. 47 
 
 " I tell you, Miss Kate," Milly had proceeded, grow- 
 ing more impressive, as the greatness of her subject 
 loomed before her, "there's a heap o' things to be 
 looked to in the makin' o' cake, but there's somethin' 
 besides all them p'ints I've mentioned. It takes the 
 right person to make it ! There's some that's been 
 'lected to make cake an' some that hasn't. There 
 ain't no other doctrine to account for the luck folks 
 has. I'll show you my way, but I can't tell beforehand 
 how it'll work with you. There's one thing, though, 
 I'll jest say private between you'n me," she added, 
 lowering her voice to a mysterious whisper, "an' I 
 ain't one to take up with no superstitious notions 
 neither ; when you want to make an extra fine cake, 
 you name it for somebody that loves you jest as 
 you're shettin' the oven door, an' if you've made that 
 cake all right, an' if you ain't deceived in that per- 
 son, your cake'll come out splendid." 
 
 "But if you are deceived?" Kate had suggested 
 solemnly. 
 
 "Then," said Milly, lifting her finger, and shaking 
 it with slow emphasis, " as sure's you're born that 
 cake'll fall in the pan an' be sad. There can't noth- 
 in' on earth prevent it." 
 
 " But t'nat is such an uncertain way," Kate had 
 objected. " You can't always tell whether or not a
 
 48 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 person loves you. Why don't you name it for some- 
 body that you love yourself? Then you could be 
 sure." 
 
 But Milly had shaken her head wisely. It was 
 the nature of cake, as it was of love, to be uncertain, 
 and she refused to reconstruct her charm. 
 
 All this had happened years before, but when, by 
 some lucky turn of memory, Kate recalled it now, 
 and suggested that this perfect specimen of cake had 
 been baked under the inspiration of her own love for 
 Milly, the last shadow of the old woman's melan- 
 choly vanished. "Well, Honey," she said radiantly, 
 " I reckon I shouldn't have missed it fur if I had." 
 
 She was prepared now to enjoy to the full the ac- 
 count which the girls gave of the experiences at the 
 farm, including everything of importance, from Kate's 
 exaltation on the machine to Morton Elwell's capture 
 of the doughnuts. Over the latter incident her eyes 
 fairly rolled with delight, and she interrupted the 
 narrator to exclaim, " That chile's boun' to make a 
 powerful smart man. Puts me in mind of Mars 
 Clay, your uncle, you know, what got to be kunnel 
 in the army. That chile did have the most 'mazin' 
 faculty for comin' roun' when a body was cookin', an* 
 the beatin'est way findin' out where things was 
 kep' an' helpin' hisself that ever I did see. I never
 
 TALKING IT OVER. 49 
 
 will forgit how he fooled your grandma one year 
 'bout the jelly. Ole Miss she allus put her jelly in 
 glasses with lids to 'em. She had a closet full that 
 year, an' every glass of it would turn out slick an' 
 solid. Mars Clay, he foun' he could turn the jelly 
 out on the lid, an' cut a slice off'm the bottom, an' 
 jist slide the jelly back again. I seed him do it one 
 day, but I never let on, and your grandma she never 
 foun' out, but she 'lowed 'twas mighty strange how 
 her jelly did shwink that year." 
 
 She shook with glee at that remembrance, and 
 Kate forgave Morton El well over again for outwitting 
 her, since the act had been the means of giving her 
 one more story of the old days. But Milly's delight 
 reached its climax when Kate told of the favor with 
 which the various dishes had been received at dinner, 
 and how Farmer Giles, after helping himself to the 
 third piece of corn-bread, had declared it the best he 
 ever tasted, to which she had replied that it ought to 
 be ; it was made by Aunt Milly's own receipt 
 
 " Bless your heart, chile," cried the old woman ; " you 
 didn't tell him that now, did you ? You mustn't make 
 the old darky too proud ! " 
 
 She did not enter with quite as much enthusiasm into 
 Kate's description of the threshing machine, and re- 
 verted with a sigh to the days when the thresher was
 
 5O WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 content with his flail, an instrument which she extolled 
 as being " a heap safer than that great snorting ma- 
 chine " (she persisted in confounding its functions with 
 those of the engine); and she refused to share in Kate's 
 wonder that people didn't starve in those days waiting 
 for the grain to be threshed. 
 
 The two were still discussing harvests past and pres- 
 ent when Esther, feeling that she had done her full 
 duty there, left the kitchen. She had never held quite 
 the place in Milly's affections which Kate enjoyed, nor 
 had she of late years listened with her sister's content- 
 ment to the old woman's thrice-told tales. She left 
 them now and went to seek her mother. 
 
 Mrs. Northmore was seated on the cool veranda 
 with her hands in her lap, and that look of tired content 
 which tells of a busy but successful day. A generous 
 hospitality had left her a little worn. Esther sat down 
 on the step at her feet and leaned her arms across her 
 lap in a childish fashion she had never outgrown. 
 
 " I wish I didn't get so tired of people whom I really 
 like," she said. "It would break Aunt Milly's heart if 
 she knew how she bores me. It seems to me some- 
 times I get tired of everybody everybody but you, 
 mother dear." 
 
 Mrs. Northmore looked into her daughter's eyes with 
 a smile.
 
 TALKING IT OVER. 5 1 
 
 " I don't think I should feel hurt, my dear, if you 
 wanted to get away from me, too, sometimes. Nobody 
 quite suits all our moods. I wouldn't reproach myself 
 on that score, if I were you." 
 
 " But it seems so disloyal, when it's anybody any- 
 body that you really care a great deal about," said 
 Esther. Her mother's smile kept its tinge of amuse- 
 ment, and the girl's face grew more serious. 
 
 " I wonder sometimes if I'm made like other girls," 
 she said. " It isn't just getting tired of people. It's 
 getting tired of things in general, and longing for some- 
 thing larger than anything that comes into my life. I 
 don't know as I can make you understand quite what 
 I mean," she went on, a strained note creeping into her 
 voice, " but somehow it came over me to-day more 
 strongly than it ever did before that I could never be 
 satisfied just to live out my life in the common hum- 
 drum way. Perhaps it was the talk of those women. 
 I suppose they're just as good and useful as the aver- 
 age, but it seemed as if they thought there was nothing 
 in the world for women to do but to be married, and 
 keep house, and take care of children. Even Mrs. 
 Elwell, nice as she is, appeared to think so, and it all 
 seemed to me so poor and small. I almost despised 
 them, mother." 
 
 The smile had gone now from Mrs. Northmore's
 
 52 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 eyes. " Oh, my dear ! " she said ; and then she was 
 silent. Of what use would it be to tell this child, with 
 the experiences of life all untried, that the common lot, 
 which she despised, had in its round the truest joys and 
 deepest satisfactions ? Years and love and happy work 
 must bring the knowledge of that. She stroked the 
 brown head for a moment without speaking. It was 
 Esther who found words first. 
 
 " You never felt like those women, did you, mother ? 
 You don't seem a bit like them. You are always read- 
 ing and thinking, and you know about a thousand things 
 they've never thought of." 
 
 The smile came back to Mrs. Northmore's eyes, but 
 there was a touch of sadness in it. " My dear girl," she 
 said, " I'm not half as wise as you think I am ; but if I 
 have any wisdom I'm sure I've found most of it, and my 
 happiness too, in those same common things. There 
 isn't such a difference between me and those friends of 
 ours as you imagine." 
 
 The girl looked unconvinced. Presently she said, 
 with a sigh, " If one could only be something or do 
 something ! When I think of the people who have 
 been great the heroes, the poets, the artists, people 
 who have accomplished something that lasted they 
 seem to me the only ones who have been really happy. 
 Just to be one of the mass, and live, and die, and be 
 forgotten, seems so pitiful."
 
 TALKING IT OVER. 53 
 
 There had never been any closed doors between 
 Mrs. Northmore's heart and her daughters. She had 
 been the friend and confidante of each, and she 
 knew this mood of Esther's; but the day had deep- 
 ened its color to an unusual sombreness. The girl 
 had never before disclosed a feeling quite like this, 
 and for once the mother was at a loss how to help 
 her. To say that all could not be great was trite, 
 and had no comfort in it. 
 
 " I think we often make a mistake in our envying 
 of the great," she said gently. "The happiness to 
 them was not in being known and remembere4 be- 
 yond others ; few of them knew in their lifetime that 
 this would be true of them, or even the value of 
 their work to the world. The real happiness lay in 
 doing with success the thing they cared to do. To 
 know our work and do it, Esther, not the sort of 
 work nor the reward, but the finding and doing 
 that is the true joy of the greatest, and it is open to 
 us all." 
 
 She had spoken with simple seriousness, as she 
 always did when others brought her their troubles, 
 however fanciful. Perhaps the girl did not grasp the 
 thought, or, grasping, find the comfort in it. 
 
 " But it seems to me that some of us have no spe- 
 cial work to do, nor any special faculty for doing
 
 54 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 it," she said. " Here am I, for instance. What am I 
 good for? I seem to myself to be just one of those 
 creatures who are made for nothing but to fill up the 
 spaces between the people who amount to something." 
 
 Mrs. Northmore pressed her hand for a moment 
 lightly on the dark appealing eyes of the girl. "If 
 we are in earnest," she said gently, "and if it is use- 
 fulness, not praise that we are caring about, we shall 
 find our work; and be sure it will seem special to 
 us if we love it as we ought." 
 
 There were a few minutes of silence ; then the 
 girl said more quietly, but with a note of despond- 
 ence in her voice : " If I had gone to school longer 
 and tried to fit myself for something, perhaps I might 
 have found out what I was good for. I didn't care 
 much when I left Lance Hall, and I never studied 
 as hard as I might while I was there; but I've 
 thought more about it since then." 
 
 A look of pain came into Mrs. Northmore's face. 
 It was a regret the girl had never expressed before, 
 but one which had been often in her own thoughts. 
 Yet the year in boarding-school, which had followed 
 Esther's graduation from the high school, had been 
 all that Dr. Northmore could afford to give his 
 daughter. She was considered in the region quite 
 an accomplished girl, but her mother, at least, real-
 
 TALKING IT OVER. 55 
 
 ized what a broader and more serious education might 
 have done for her. She realized it at this moment 
 with unusual force. 
 
 " I wish you might have had the best the schools 
 can give, and some other things you have missed, 
 Esther," she said. And then she added, " If we 
 were only a little richer ! " 
 
 There was a tone in Mrs. Northmore's voice which 
 one heard but seldom, and the girl noted it with a 
 sudden compunction. " I haven't missed anything 
 that I deserved to have," she said quickly, "and I've 
 had more than most girls. I know that. It's you 
 who go without things, mother. You're always plan- 
 ning and saving, and pretending you don't want to 
 have anything or go anywhere." And then the im- 
 patience came into her tone again, though she was 
 not thinking of herself, as she added, " Sometimes I 
 can't see how it is that we have so little money to 
 spend, when father has such a good practice." 
 
 Mrs. Northmore sighed. " Your father has never 
 looked very sharply after his own interests in money 
 matters. He has been too busy with other things, 
 and too generous, for that," she said. And then she 
 added, almost gayly : " But I have never lacked for 
 anything ; and it is so much easier to bear the sort of 
 mistakes your father makes than it would be to bear
 
 56 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 some others ! The ' handle ' you remember what 
 Epictetus says about the 'two handles '- why, the 
 handle to bear our sort of trouble with stands out all 
 round, and is so big one can't help laying hold of it." 
 
 Perhaps it was the light-heartedness with which 
 she spoke, more than the slight reproof which the 
 words contained, that made Esther's head drop in her 
 mother's lap. " I wish I were half as good as you 
 are, mother," she whispered. 
 
 The voices of Kate and Virgie from the direction 
 of the kitchen made her spring to her feet a minute 
 later. " I don't want to be here when they come," 
 she said, dashing her handkerchief across her eyes. 
 " I'm tired and disagreeable. Good night." 
 
 She was off before the others had reached the porch, 
 and a half hour later, when Kate followed her to her 
 room, she was in bed, more than willing that her sister 
 should think her closed eyelids drowsy with sleep, an 
 impression which did not, however, prevent the other 
 from indulging in some lively monologue as she 
 undressed. Her father had come home, she said, and 
 was delighted with the report of the day, but there was 
 a lot left to tell him in the morning. " Besides," she 
 added, " I could see there was something on mother's 
 mind that she wanted to talk over with him alone, so I 
 came away."
 
 TALKING IT OVER. 57 
 
 She was silent for fully two minutes, then burst out, 
 " I say, wasn't it great, what Mort Elwell said about 
 Stella Saxon's picture ? " She chuckled at the remem- 
 brance, then added : " By the way, did it occur to you 
 that he wasn't particularly enthusiastic over the idea 
 of our going to grandfather's ? My, but I wish we 
 could go." 
 
 " I don't know what difference our plans make to 
 him," said Esther, in a tone which indicated that her 
 sleepiness had not reached an acute stage. 
 
 " Oh, they make plenty of difference to him ; at least 
 yours do," said Kate, sagely. 
 
 "Well, he might spare himself the trouble," said 
 Esther. " I must say I think Morton Elwell takes too 
 much for granted, lately." 
 
 Kate stopped braiding her hair and stared at her 
 sister. " I don't know what he takes for granted, 
 except that old friends don't change," she said. She 
 continued to stare for a minute, then remarked slowly : 
 " I know what ails you, Esther. You want to have a 
 . lot of romance and all that sort of thing. For my part 
 I never could see that romance amounted to anything 
 but getting all mixed up and having a lot of trouble." 
 And having delivered herself of this she apparently 
 resigned herself to her own reflections. 
 
 On the porch, still sitting in the evening darkness,
 
 58 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 Mrs. Northmore was saying to her husband at that 
 moment : " Philip, what do you say to letting the girls 
 go to New England ? We've talked about it a good 
 deal; why not settle on it? Now that the wheat has 
 turned out so well, couldn't we afford it ? " 
 
 " Why, I think 'twould be an excellent plan, Lucia," 
 said the doctor, cordially. " I've thought so all along, 
 but I was under the impression that you wanted the 
 wheat money to go another way." 
 
 She gave a little sigh. "Yes," she said, " I did want 
 to reduce that mortgage, but some things can wait 
 better than others. It would do the girls good to go, 
 and I believe Esther really needs a change." 
 
 " You think the child is not well ? " queried the 
 doctor, with a note of surprise in his voice. 
 
 " Oh, not ill," said Mrs. Northmore, quickly, " but " 
 she hesitated a moment, "she is rather restless and 
 inclined to be a little morbid and moody. It might 
 be worth a good deal to her to have a change of scene, 
 and get some new ideas." 
 
 " By all means pack her off," said the doctor. " It's a 
 prescription I always like to give my patients ; and if 
 that is yours for her I'll fill it with all confidence." He 
 rose and stretched his long arms with a tired gesture. 
 " I believe it's bedtime for me," he said, " and I rather 
 think it ought to be for you too."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 BETWEEN TIMES. 
 
 IT was at breakfast the next morning that the great 
 decision was announced. 
 
 " Well, young ladies," said the doctor, looking from 
 one to the other of his older daughters, "what do 
 you think your mother and I have decided to do with 
 you ? " He paused for just an instant, then gave the 
 answer himself without waiting for theirs. " Nothing 
 short of sending you East for the rest of the summer. 
 We've held a council, and decided that nothing else 
 will do in your case." 
 
 They caught their breath, gasping for a moment at 
 the suddenness of it, then Kate brought her hands 
 together with a clap. " Glorious ! " she cried ; " that's 
 the best news I ever heard. But, do you know, I 
 felt in my bones last night that it was coming." 
 
 The doctor laughed. The idea of this plump young 
 creature deriving any premonitions from her bones 
 amused him. " And what did yours indicate ? " he 
 asked, turning to Esther. 
 
 59
 
 6O WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 " Nothing as delightful as that," she said. Her 
 face was not as bright as Kate's. She wondered, with 
 a sudden misgiving, whether her discontented mood 
 of the evening before had any share in bringing the 
 decision, and the thought was in the glance which she 
 sent at that moment toward her mother. 
 
 The latter met it with a smiling clearness. " Your 
 father has been in favor of it for some time," she 
 said, " and now that the wheat has turned out so well 
 there is really nothing in the way." 
 
 The shadow flitted from Esther's eyes. " Oh, it 
 will be beautiful to go, perfectly beautiful ! I only 
 wish Virgie could go, too," she said, with a glance at 
 the little sister, whose face had grown very sober. 
 
 " Now you needn't worry a bit about Virgie," said 
 the doctor, putting his arm around the child, who sat 
 beside him. " Your mother and I couldn't stand it 
 without her, and we're going to see that she has a 
 good time. Just you wait, Virgie," he added, lower- 
 ing his voice confidentially, " I have a plan for this 
 fall, and you're going to be in it. There'll be a fine 
 slice of cake left for us three when the others have 
 eaten theirs all up." 
 
 He was exceedingly fond of his children. With 
 their training, either physical or mental, he had never 
 charged himself, perhaps because they were girls,
 
 BETWEEN TIMES. 6 1 
 
 but to gratify their wants, and to shield them as far 
 as possible from the hardships of life, was a side of 
 parental privilege to which he was keenly responsive. 
 
 " But when are we going ? " Kate was already 
 demanding. 
 
 "Just as soon as your mother can get you ready," 
 said the doctor; "and I shouldn't think that need to 
 take very long. I fancy she has your wardrobe 
 planned already. Something kept her awake last 
 night, and when I asked her, sometime in the small 
 hours, what it was, she said she was contriving a new 
 way to make over one of your old dresses. For your 
 mother," he added, smiling at that lady, "is like the 
 wife of John Gilpin. Though bent on pleasure yours, 
 of course she has 'a frugal mind.' ' 
 
 " Think of being likened to that immortal woman ! " 
 cried Mrs. Northmore. " I only hope my plans will 
 work better than hers did." 
 
 " Oh, your plans always work," said the doctor. 
 " But don't tax your wits too far reconstructing old 
 clothes. Get some new ones ; get 'em pretty and 
 stylish. I want the girls to be fixed up nice if they're 
 going to visit those Eastern relatives." 
 
 "Hear! hear!" cried Kate. "Papa, your ideas 
 and mine fit beautifully." 
 
 He was in the best of spirits. The good wheat
 
 62 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 crop had already brought the payment of some long- 
 standing medical bills, and Dr. Northmore could al- 
 ways adjust himself to a time of abundance more 
 gracefully than to the day of small things. 
 
 "We shall treat you handsomely in the matter of 
 our expenses, you may depend on that," said his wife. 
 She had no intention of relaxing her carefulness in 
 the use of money ; but she never wounded her hus- 
 band's pride, and she always indulged him in the 
 amused smile with which, in times of comparative 
 ease, he seemed to regard feminine economies. 
 
 There were plenty of them in the days that im- 
 mediately followed, but the girls had most of the 
 things they wanted, and their father was more than 
 satisfied with the pretty becoming dresses in which 
 they bloomed out, one after another, for his benefit. 
 As a matter of fact, Mrs. Northmore was quite as 
 desirous as he that her girls should be well provided 
 for this summer outing. She was a bit of a philoso- 
 pher, but she never affected the slightest indifference 
 to the matter of dress. She had excellent taste her- 
 self, and had given it to her children. 
 
 Things moved so swiftly that in little more than 
 a week they were ready. There were good-by calls 
 to be made, and a host of others to be received from 
 friends who came to offer their congratulations and
 
 BETWEEN TIMES. 63 
 
 express effusive hopes for their pleasure during the 
 summer, for the news of their plan had spread 
 rapidly. But there was one friend to whom word 
 came late, and who, but for accident, might have 
 missed it altogether. 
 
 This was Morton Elwell. The girls were walking 
 home from the village late one afternoon, when Kate, 
 glancing back, saw the young man with the New 
 Light preacher. The two had been harvesting to- 
 gether at the other end of the county, and since 
 that day at the farm neither of them had been in 
 town. 
 
 "There's Mort Elwell!" she exclaimed; and then 
 she faced about, drawing her sister with her, and 
 waited frankly for him to come up. 
 
 The two men quickened their steps instantly. 
 " Upon my word, I didn't know you till you turned," 
 said Morton. " My, how fine you look ! " 
 
 Kate smiled, and Esther flushed. Perhaps it was 
 one of the liberties she did not quite like his taking, 
 that he should be so plainly observant of their new 
 dresses. 
 
 " Well, it's a wonder that anybody knows you, 
 face to face, Mort," said Kate. " I declare you're 
 as brown as a mulatto." 
 
 " Am I ? " said the young man cheerfully. " Well,
 
 64 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 I'm at the engine now, and what with smoke and 
 sunburn it paints a fellow up in good style." 
 
 " I suppose you know we're going away next 
 Wednesday," said Kate. She had fallen behind with 
 him, leaving Esther to walk with the preacher. 
 
 "Why, no, I didn't know it," said Morton, fairly 
 stopping in his walk. " Is that so ? " 
 
 " ' Certain true, black and blue,' as we used to 
 say when we were children," replied Kate. "We're 
 going to Grandfather Saxon's. It was all settled 
 that night after we got home from the threshing." 
 She paused a moment ; then, as he had not spoken, 
 added, with a little pout : " I suppose you couldn't 
 strain a point to say you're glad. Everybody else 
 seems to say it easily enough." 
 
 "Why, of course I'm glad," said Morton, hastily, 
 " and I hope you'll have a tremendously good time ; 
 but it sort of takes a body's breath away, it's so 
 sudden. When are you coming back ? " 
 
 "We're not thinking of that part yet," said Kate; 
 "but not before September." 
 
 His face lengthened. "Why, I shan't see any- 
 thing of you girls all vacation," he said. "I did 
 think when the harvesting was over I should get 
 an occasional glimpse of you. I wish threshing 
 hadn't begun so early this year."
 
 BETWEEN TIMES. 6$ 
 
 "What's that?" said the preacher, turning his 
 head. "Wanting seed time and harvest put off for 
 your special benefit ! That won't do, Mort." 
 
 " Oh, not that exactly," said the young man. " But 
 it is sort of hard on a fellow not to get any chance 
 of seeing his friends all summer, when that's the 
 only time in the year he's at home." 
 
 " There'll be plenty of your friends left," said 
 Esther. She had half turned her head, and was 
 looking wonderfully pretty in her new leghorn hat 
 with the corn-flowers and poppies. 
 
 " Oh ! " he said, reproachfully ; but he had no chance 
 to say anything more just then, for the preacher 
 claimed her attention. 
 
 "How far East are you going ? " he asked. 
 
 "To mother's old home in New England," said 
 the girl. The preacher gave a surprised whistle. 
 " Was your mother raised back there ? " he demanded. 
 "Well, I never should have known but she was a 
 born Hoosier." 
 
 As a born Hoosier herself the young lady appre- 
 ciated the compliment. " No," she said, " mother 
 came from Massachusetts ; but she's lived here twenty 
 years, and I don't suppose there's much difference 
 now." 
 
 " Oh, we'll let her have the name now," said the 
 F
 
 66 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 preacher, good-naturedly. " But it's queer I never 
 heard her say a word about ' Boston.' " 
 
 "She didn't come from Boston," said Esther. 
 " There's ever so much of New England outside of 
 Boston, you know." 
 
 "Tears to cover the whole ground for most Yan- 
 kees," said the preacher, dryly. " I don't recollect as 
 I ever talked with any of 'em except your mother 
 that it didn't leak out mighty quick if they'd come 
 from anywheres near the ' Hub.' 'Feared to carry it 
 round as a sort of measuring stick, to size up every- 
 thing else by." 
 
 His figure was a trifle mixed, but it met the case. 
 After a moment he added : " Well, I'm right glad you're 
 going. It's a good thing for young folks to see 
 something of the world outside of the home corner. 
 I always thought I'd like to travel a bit myself, but 
 I reckon I'll never get to do it any other way than 
 going round with a threshing machine, and that don't 
 exactly hit my notion of travelling for pleasure. Eh, 
 Mort ? " he queried, turning to the young man be- 
 hind him. 
 
 The latter was not in a mood to feel the full humor 
 of the remark, which he had heard in spite of his 
 apparent attention to Kate's lively chatter. " Can't 
 say there's much variety in it," he replied rather 
 absently.
 
 BETWEEN TIMES. 6/ 
 
 " However," continued the preacher, turning again 
 to Esther, " I did go to Kentucky once when I was 
 a little chap. No," he said, shaking his head, as he 
 caught the eager question in her eyes, "not in the 
 Blue Grass country where your father was raised, 
 but in among the knobs where the Cumberlands be- 
 gin. It was a mighty poor rough country. I reckon 
 you'll see something of the same sort where you're 
 going." 
 
 " Oh, but that is a beautiful country ! Mother has 
 always said so," cried the girl, looking quite dis- 
 tressed. 
 
 "Well, maybe you'd call that country down there 
 pretty too," said the preacher, with easy accommoda- 
 tion, "though it's all in a heap, and rocks all over 
 it. Reminds me of the story about a soldier from 
 somewhere hereabouts that was going through there 
 in the war-time, and stopped to talk a minute with a 
 fellow that was hoeing corn. ' Well, stranger,' says 
 he, 'reckon you're about ready to move out of here.' 
 ' Why so ? ' says the fellow, looking sort of stupid. 
 'Why, I see you've got the land all rolled up ready 
 to start,' says the soldier." 
 
 Th preacher interrupted his mellow drawl for a 
 moment to join in her laugh at the story, then went 
 on : " Now my notion of a pretty country is one that
 
 68 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 looks as if you could raise something on it; the sort 
 we've got round here, you know," he added, stretch- 
 ing out his arm with an inclusive gesture. 
 
 His idea of landscape beauty was not Esther 
 Northmore's, but as she looked at that moment over 
 the peaceful country, golden and green with its gen- 
 erous harvests, with here and there a stretch of for- 
 est rising tall and straight against the sky, she felt 
 its quiet charm with a thrill of pride and gladness. 
 " Yes ; this is a beautiful country," she said softly. 
 " I shall never change my mind about that." 
 
 They had reached a point where another road 
 crossed the one they were following, and the preacher 
 paused in his walk. " I must turn off here," he 
 said. " Good-by ! and take care of yourselves." He 
 shook hands heartily with each of the girls, and 
 added, with a nod at Esther : " Give my special re- 
 gards to your mother. Tell her I've just found out 
 that she's a Yankee, and I don't think any less of 
 her for it." 
 
 He was an odd genius, this New Light preacher. 
 The Northmores were by no means of his flock, 
 but the feeling between them was most cordial. In 
 his office of comforter he had touched that of the 
 healer more than once among the families under his 
 care, and the touch had left a mutual respect be-
 
 HE LEANED ON THE GATE WHEN HE HAD OPENED IT FOR THE GIRLS.'
 
 BETWEEN TIMES. 69 
 
 tween him and the doctor. With Mrs. Northmore 
 the feeling was even warmer. Rough and ill-edu- 
 cated as he was, there was a native force and 
 shrewdness in the man by no means common, and 
 they were joined with a frank honesty which would 
 have attracted her in a far less interesting person 
 than he. 
 
 Morton Elwell walked on to the house, but refused 
 the girls' invitation to come in to supper. " You know 
 mother would like to have you," Esther said, with 
 polite urgence. " She was complaining the other (Jay 
 that we saw so little of you." 
 
 But Morton was resolute. Perhaps the thresher's 
 costume in which he was arrayed, the blue flannel shirt, 
 jean trousers, and heavy boots, none too black, helped 
 him to stand by the promise he had given Mrs. Elwell. 
 " No," he said ; " I told Aunt Jenny I wouldn't fail to 
 come home to supper." But he leaned on the gate 
 when he had opened it for the girls, and stood for a 
 minute as if he found it hard to turn away. 
 
 " Of course you'll write to me first," he said, glanc- 
 ing from one to the other. There had been a corre- 
 spondence of a desultory sort between them ever since 
 he went away to college, and he seemed to take for 
 granted that it would go on now. And then he added, 
 looking to Esther, " You wrote to me real often when
 
 7O WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 you were a little girl, and went to your grandfather's 
 before." 
 
 Her color rose a trifle. "You have a remarkably 
 good memory, Mort, to remember such little things 
 when they happened so long ago," she said lightly. 
 
 "Why, I've got every one of them now," he replied. 
 " I was looking them over not so very long ago, and 
 they were the j oiliest kind of letters, with little post- 
 scripts added by Kate in cipher. She was five, I be- 
 lieve, then. They were joint productions in those days, 
 but you needn't feel obliged to make them so now." 
 
 " I suppose we needn't feel ' obliged ' to write them 
 at all," she said, lifting her eyebrows a little. 
 
 " Oh, you wouldn't go back on a fellow like that ! " 
 said Morton. " Why, it would break me all up." 
 
 There was something so affectionately boyish in his 
 manner that Kate said instantly : " Of course we'll 
 write to you, and tell you everything that happens. 
 You may wish my letters were postscripts again before 
 you get through with them." 
 
 And Esther added cheerfully, "Yes, if you want to 
 add a few more specimens of my handwriting to that 
 ancient collection, you shall certainly have them." 
 
 " Maybe we'll send you our pictures too," said Kate." 
 "We're going to have some taken after we get there, 
 and if they're good
 
 BETWEEN TIMES. /I 
 
 He broke in upon her with a sudden eagerness. 
 " Well, don't let your cousin get you up like statues. I 
 hate that kind." 
 
 Kate burst into a laugh, but Esther looked impatient. 
 " Oh, dear, don't you know that common, everyday faces 
 like ours can't be made to look that way ? " she said. 
 
 "Can't they? Well, I'm awfully glad of it," he 
 replied. " Good-by." And then he grasped their 
 hands for a moment, and struck off at a long, swinging 
 gait across the field that lay between their home and 
 his uncle's. 
 
 The days that were left ran fast. They were full 
 and hurried, as the last days of preparation are apt to 
 be in spite of the best-laid plans. But the girls man- 
 aged to take some rides with their father, who, in view 
 of the coming separation, seemed to expect more of 
 their company than usual, and Kate contrived to hold 
 some sittings in the kitchen with Aunt Milly, who had 
 been in a depressed state of mind ever since the sum- 
 mer plan had been decided on. In spite of being one 
 who held with no superstitions, a fact she never failed 
 to mention when she had anything of a mysterious 
 nature to communicate, the number of dreams and 
 presentiments she had in regard to this visit was re- 
 markable, and they all tended to throw doubt on the 
 probability of her darlings' return.
 
 72 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 "Why, we came back when we were children," 
 said Kate one evening, when the old woman was un- 
 usually depressed, "and it was just as far to grand- 
 father's then as it is now. It's because you're getting 
 old and rheumatic that you feel so blue about us, Aunt 
 Milly." 
 
 But Milly sighed as she shook her head. " It was 
 different in those days, honey," she said. " You couldn't 
 help comin' back to your ole mammy when you were 
 chil'en. But you're older now, an' a mighty good 
 looking pair o' girls, if I do say it, an' there's no tellin' 
 what may happen when you get to gallivantin' roun' 
 with the young men in your mother's country." 
 
 " Now, Aunt Milly," laughed Kate, " you've always 
 pretended to think we're only children still, and all at 
 once you talk as if we were grown-up young ladies. It's 
 no such thing. Besides," she added cunningly, " didn't 
 we come back safe and sound from Kentucky last year ? 
 And you know there are no young men anywhere to 
 hold a candle with those down there." 
 
 " That's a fac', honey," said Aunt Milly, lifting her 
 head. " The ole Kentucky stock don't have to knock 
 under yet, if some things is changed." 
 
 " Trust Milly to stand up for her own country," 
 laughed Dr. Northmore, who had paused in his passage 
 through the kitchen, and caught the last remark.
 
 BETWEEN TIMES. 73 
 
 "And me for mine, papa," cried Kate. "I shall 
 always like it better than any other. I know I shall." 
 
 Apparently he did not disapprove the sentiment, but 
 he added warningly, " Well, make it big enough." And 
 then he took her away with him to join the family con- 
 clave in talking over the proposed journey. 
 
 They were small travellers, the Northmores, and the 
 excursions from home had of late years been short. The 
 length of the one about to be taken impressed them all. 
 Mrs. Northmore spoke of it with manifest anxiety, and 
 the doctor spent much time poring over the railroad 
 guide and time-table. It was a work which, in spite 
 of its fascination, harassed him, and he alternated be- 
 tween the exasperated opinion that it was impossible for 
 any man not inspired to understand its vexatious fig- 
 ures, and a disposition to combat with vehemence any 
 one who reached a conclusion different from his own on 
 a single point. By this time the course of the journey 
 had been fully decided on. There would be but one 
 change of cars, and this had been hedged about with so 
 much of explanation and admonition that no two girls 
 of average sense could possibly go wrong. 
 
 The day came at last, and a perfect day it was, when 
 they started off. The doctor and Virgie accompanied 
 them to the station, but Mrs. Northmore preferred to 
 say the last word quietly at home. There was a crowd
 
 74 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 of young people gathered at the station, but the time 
 for good-bys was brief. The through train for the 
 East was not a moment behind time. There was a 
 short impatient stop of the iron steed, a sudden crowd- 
 ing together for hurried farewells, then two flushed 
 faces, half smiling, half tearful, pressed against the win- 
 dow, and the great wheels were in motion again and the 
 travellers on their way. 
 
 They drew a long breath as they settled fairly into 
 their seats. " I'm glad that part of it's over," said 
 Kate. 
 
 "So am I," said Esther; and then she added: "I'm 
 glad we don't get there right away. It's nice to have 
 an interlude between the acts."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 AT THE OLD PLACE. 
 
 THE journey to New England was more than a mere 
 interlude for the girls. It was a distinct pleasure 
 in itself. To watch the low, rich landscape which 
 had lain around them from their infancy change 
 imperceptibly to one different and bolder ; the broad 
 fields narrowing ; the long, rolling swells lifting into 
 clear-cut hills; the forests of beech and oak, with 
 smooth, sunlighted floors, giving place to woods filled 
 with a bewitching tangle of vines and ferns all this 
 was a constant delight to travellers as fresh and unsated 
 as ours. 
 
 " I like the wide, open stretches better," said Kate 
 once, when they were winding with many turns between 
 the close-set hills. But Esther did not assent to this. 
 It seemed to her that nature had heaped the measure 
 of her bounty here, the bounty which is beauty, 
 not spread it out in even level, and something in her 
 heart responded to the change. 
 
 The hills had sharpened to a rugged sternness, the 
 
 75
 
 76 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 fields were checkered off in little plots by lines of 
 gray stone walls, plots in which men were gathering 
 hay behind oxen instead of horses, when at last they 
 reached the village of Esterly. 
 
 They had passed a succession of such villages, 
 catching just a glimpse of pretty homes and shaded 
 streets, with always a spire or two lifted above them, 
 an endless number it seemed to the girls, but this 
 was the name for which they had been breathlessly 
 waiting, and it was no sooner spoken than they rose 
 unsteadily in their places and turned their faces 
 toward the door. 
 
 "They'll be here, of course. I only hope we shall 
 know them," murmured Esther, anxiously. 
 
 She need have had no fear. Aside from some 
 functionaries of the station there were but two persons 
 on the platform of the Esterly depot when the West- 
 ern train drew in, and these two were unmistakable. 
 One of them was an old man, leaning eagerly forward, 
 with his hands clasped on the top of his cane ; a small, 
 spare man, with clean-shaven face, and a touch of 
 ruddy color in his cheeks, hair but slightly gray, and 
 bright blue eyes which searched the faces before him 
 without the aid of spectacles. The other was a petite 
 young lady, in a stylish dress, with a mist of golden 
 hair about her face, and a hat, which seemed to belong
 
 AT THE OLD PLACE. 77 
 
 exactly with the face, tied in a gauzy mesh of some- 
 thing under her chin. She did not look in the least 
 like a goddess, she was too slight and genteel ; but 
 she was clearly Stella Saxon. 
 
 " Grandfather ! Stella ! " came from the one side in a 
 moment, and " Girls ! Girls ! " from the other, as the 
 four met and embraced. 
 
 "We knew somebody would be here to meet us," 
 said Esther, when they had taken another breath and 
 a good look at each other ; " but I'd no idea it would 
 be you, grandfather." 
 
 " Hm," said the old gentleman, evidently enjoying 
 her surprise. " Mebbe you thought I'd be propped up 
 in a big chair waiting for you at the house." 
 
 " If you knew the state of mind he's been in since 
 morning ! " said Stella. " We got Uncle Doctor's tele- 
 gram early, saying you'd be here on this train, and 
 grandfather seemed to regard it as a summons to start 
 for you at once. Mother and I had hard work to hold 
 him back at all, and in spite of us he would start an 
 hour before time this afternoon; actually hurried his 
 horse to get here, too," she added, glancing with a 
 little grimace at the fattest of family horses which 
 was standing before the two-seated carriage at the 
 side of the depot. " I shudder to think what would 
 have happened to him if you hadn't come."
 
 78 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 She was saying this last to Esther privately. 
 The old gentleman had started briskly off with Kate 
 to look after the trunks. These were to follow to the 
 farm in a spring wagon, and securing them was a 
 matter involving so little delay at this quiet station 
 that the four were very shortly on their way behind 
 the gray nag, which, after receiving an admonishing 
 "cluck" at starting off, was allowed to settle to his 
 own jog-trot without further attention. They made 
 a long circuit through the main street of the village, 
 the old gentleman bowing and smiling to every one 
 he met, and obviously eager to attract attention. 
 But as the houses grew more scattering he laid the 
 reins across his lap, put on a pair of spectacles, and 
 for a full minute gazed through them steadily at his 
 granddaughters. 
 
 " You look as your mother did at your age ; won- 
 derfully like," he said, with his eyes on Esther's face, 
 " and you, too, but not so much," he added more 
 slowly, turning to Kate. He took off his spectacles 
 and returned them to an old-fashioned steel case; 
 then asked, with much deliberation, " And what do 
 you think of your old grandfather ? " 
 
 "Why, you look just as I thought you did, only 
 so very much younger," replied Esther. " I'd no 
 idea you were so strong and active." She paused
 
 AT THE OLD PLACE. 79 
 
 an instant, then, with a charming eagerness in her 
 voice, added : " You make me think of the ' Farmer 
 of Tilsbury Vale.' You know the poem says, 
 
 " ' His bright eyes look brighter, set off by the streak 
 Of the unfaded rose that still blooms on his cheek.' " 
 
 The old gentleman made no attempt to conceal his 
 elation. He fairly beamed ; and Stella murmured in 
 Esther's ear : " You've done it ! His youthful looks 
 are his particular vanity ; and to have a fresh quota- 
 tion brought to bear upon the subject ! " She lifted 
 her hands as if in despair of expressing the effect 
 on her grandfather, and settled back in her seat. He 
 had turned to Kate and was plainly waiting for her 
 to speak now. 
 
 " Well," said that young lady, regarding him with 
 cheerful scrutiny, " I can't quote any poetry about it. 
 It's always Esther who puts in the fine strokes with 
 that sort of thing ; but I must say I think you look 
 mighty young for a man of your age." 
 
 In its way this was equally good. Ruel Saxon evi- 
 dently considered that she had used a very strong 
 expression. 
 
 " Well," he said with complacence, " I guess there 
 ain't much doubt but what I do bear my age better 'n 
 most men at my time of life. I guess I'm some
 
 8O WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 like Moses about that. You know it says, 'his eye 
 was not dim nor his natural force abated,' when he 
 got to be a very old man." 
 
 There was such evident surprise on the part of his 
 granddaughters at this remark that he added : " To 
 be sure, Moses was a good deal older 'n I am ; he 
 was a hundred and twenty years old when that was 
 said of him, and I hain't got to that yet by consid- 
 erable. But I'm past the time of life that most men 
 get to, a good deal past. I was born in the year 
 seventeen hundred and ninety-one, and if I live till 
 the twenty-first day of next June I shall be eighty- 
 nine years old." 
 
 He paused to let the statement take full effect, 
 and Stella remarked : " That's the way grandfather 
 always tells his age. He names that year, away back 
 in the last century, and then he tells what his birth- 
 day next year will make him. I don't mind his keep- 
 ing account for himself that way, but he has the 
 same style of reckoning for the rest of us." 
 
 " Well," he said, with a twinkle in his eyes, " the 
 women would forget their own ages if it warn't for 
 me and the big Bible. Now Stella here was born 
 in the year " 
 
 " There," cried the girl, " what did I tell you ! And 
 isn't it enough to make one feel ancient, the way he
 
 AT THE OLD PLACE. 8 1 
 
 rolls out the syllables ? Never you mind about me, 
 grandfather. Tell the girls when they were born. 
 I'm sure they've forgotten." 
 
 They admitted the fact promptly, but he had not 
 yet exhausted the subject of his own exceptional for- 
 tune in withstanding the ravages of age. It was a 
 theme of which he was never weary, largely no doubt 
 from a certain vanity, which time had spared to him 
 in a somewhat unusual measure, along with his phys- 
 ical powers. To have a fresh and interested audi- 
 ence was inspiration enough. 
 
 " It's a great blessing to retain one's faculties in 
 old age," he said impressively. " Now I enjoy life, 
 for aught I know, pretty near as much as I ever 
 did ; but it ain't so with everybody. There was Bar- 
 zillai, for instance. He was a younger man, by eight 
 years, than I am, but he must have been terrible 
 hard of hearing, by his own account, and he'd lost 
 his taste so that there warn't any flavor to him in 
 the victuals he ate ; though he seems to have been 
 an active enough man in some ways," he added re- 
 flectively. 
 
 There was a moment's pause during which Deacon 
 Saxon doubtless mused upon his own mercies, and his 
 granddaughters pondered the question, who the unfor- 
 tunate octogenarian whom he had just mentioned might
 
 82 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 be. Esther could not remember ever hearing of any 
 relative of that name, and it hardly seemed to have a 
 local flavor. She was glad when Kate, who seldom re- 
 mained ignorant for want of asking a question, inquired 
 briskly : 
 
 "Who was this Bar what's his name, that you're 
 talking about ? " 
 
 "Who was Barzillai?" cried the old man, turning 
 upon the girl an astonished countenance. " Hain't you 
 never heard of Barzillai, the Gileadite, the man who 
 went down to give sustenance to David when he was 
 fleeing before Absalom ? Don't you know about t/iat, 
 and how David afterwards wanted to take him up to 
 Jerusalem with him, but Barzillai said he was too old, 
 and asked the king to let him stay in his own place ? 
 Hain't you read about him ? Well, I never ! " 
 
 He paused as in speechless wonder, then ejaculated : 
 "When your mother was your age she could have told 
 all about him and anybody else you could mention out 
 of the Bible. What on airth is she doing that she 
 hain't trained you up to know about it ? I hope she 
 hain't stopped reading the scriptures herself, living out 
 there in the West." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " cried Kate, quite overwhelmed by this 
 burst, and in her jealousy for her mother indifferent for 
 the moment to the insinuation against her native
 
 AT THE OLD PLACE. 83 
 
 section. " Mother knows more about the Bible than 
 anybody I ever saw, except you, and I've no doubt 
 she told us all about that man when we were little " 
 (she made no attempt now at his name), " but I never 
 could remember those Old Testament folks." 
 
 It is doubtful whether Ruel Saxon felt much re- 
 assured as to the training his daughter had given her 
 children by the cheerful manner in which Kate made 
 the last admission. For himself his delight in those 
 " Old Testament folks " was perennial. He had pored 
 over their histories till every incident of their lives was 
 as familiar to him as that of his own neighbors. He 
 had entered so intimately into the thoughts and experi- 
 ences of those ancient worthies that it was no meaning- 
 less phrase when, in his daily prayers, he asked that 
 he might " sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in 
 the kingdom of Heaven." 
 
 Ruel Saxon was a type of that class of men, passing 
 away now even from the hills of New England, who 
 from infancy were so steeped in knowledge of the 
 Bible that its incidents formed the very background of 
 their daily thinking, and its language colored their 
 common conversation. It must be confessed that in 
 the Old Testament he found his keenest pleasure, but 
 between the covers of the Old or New there was 
 no spot which was not to him revered and familiar
 
 84 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 ground. That all scripture was given by inspira- 
 tion of God, and was " profitable for doctrine, for 
 reproof, and for instruction in righteousness," was a 
 part of his creed on which no shadow of doubt had ever 
 fallen. The doctrine, according to his lights, he 
 maintained with unction ; the instruction he counted 
 himself well qualified to give ; and the reproof he felt 
 equally called to administer on all needful occasions. 
 
 It was some minutes before he could quite recover 
 from the astonishment of finding himself the direct 
 progenitor of two young people who knew nothing of 
 that worthy Gileadite whose state in old age formed 
 such a striking contrast to his own. Probably he 
 would have delivered a little homily, then and there, on 
 the importance of reading the Bible, had not a turn in 
 the road at the top of a long steep hill brought them 
 suddenly into sight of the old Saxon homestead. 
 
 " There 'tis ! There's the old place ! Should you 
 know it ? " he demanded of his granddaughters. 
 
 Esther leaned forward from the back seat where she 
 was sitting with Stella and gazed for a moment, almost 
 holding her breath. Then she lifted a pair of moist 
 shining eyes to her grandfather. " I should know it 
 anywhere," she said, with a thrill in her voice. " It 
 looks just as I have dreamed of it all these years." 
 
 Indeed it was a picture which might easily hold its
 
 AT THE OLD PLACE. 85 
 
 place in a loving memory ; an old white house, with a 
 wide stone chimney rising in the middle of a square 
 old-fashioned roof, standing in the shelter of a cluster 
 of elms, so tall, so noble, and so gracious in their bear- 
 ing that the special guardianship of Heaven seemed 
 resting on the spot. 
 
 Kate had been looking at it steadily too, but she 
 shook her head as she glanced away. " No," she said, 
 " I shouldn't know that I'd ever seen it before ; but if 
 you had handed me the reins, grandfather, and told 
 me to find it somewhere on this road, I don't think I 
 should have turned in at the wrong place." 
 
 They talked of nothing else as they drove slowly 
 toward it. The motion Ruel Saxon had made a 
 most unusual one to apply the lash to Dobbin had 
 been checked by Esther t who declared she wanted to 
 take in the details one by one, and begged him, with 
 feeling, not to go too fast, a request which threw Stella 
 into a state of inward convulsion from which she barely 
 recovered in time to prevent the old gentleman from 
 monopolizing the whole distance with an account of the 
 various improvements he had made on the house, nota- 
 bly the last shingling and the raising of the door-sills. 
 
 " You might tell the girls how you didn't change the 
 windows," she said slyly ; but if he was inclined to do 
 this, Esther's exclamation just then prevented.
 
 86 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 " Oh, those dear little old-fashioned windows!" she 
 cried. "They're blinking in the sunshine just as they 
 used to. Grandfather dear, I'm so glad you haven't 
 had them changed into something different." 
 
 He winced a little at this, and Stella said magnani- 
 mously, " It was really my mother's idea. She does 
 complain sometimes of the trouble it is to keep all 
 those tiny little window-panes clean, and so grand- 
 father thought one spring that he'd have some new 
 sashes put in, with a single pane of glass above and 
 below. They had it all fixed up between them, but I 
 came home just in time to prevent." She gave a 
 shudder, then added : " I've always believed in special 
 providences since then. Why, the change would have 
 been ruinous, simply ruinous ! You know if you can't 
 have a lovely new house with everything graceful and 
 artistic, the next best thing is to have one that's old 
 and quaint. I wouldn't have a thing changed about 
 our house for any consideration. I've set my foot 
 down about that." (With all her daintiness she looked 
 as if she could do it with effect.) " But mother and 
 grandfather understand now, and have given their 
 solemn promise never to make the smallest alteration 
 without consulting me." 
 
 The old gentleman had been listening to this with 
 his mouth pulled down to an expression of resignation
 
 AT THE OLD PLACE. 8? 
 
 which was clearly not natural to him. "Well," he said, 
 when she had reached her triumphant conclusion, " I've 
 always been of the opinion that it's best to let women- 
 folks have their way about things in the house. It 
 pacifies 'em, and makes 'em willing to let the men man- 
 age things of more consequence. You know Solomon 
 says ' it is better to dwell in the wilderness than with a 
 contentious woman.' ' 
 
 "That's a fact, grandfather," said Stella, cordially; 
 " and there's no describing how contentious I should be 
 if you set about changing this old house." 
 
 They had almost reached it now. A minute more 
 carried them under the elms, straight to the door. It 
 was open, and under the latticed porch, covered with 
 honeysuckles on one side and bitter-sweet on the other, 
 stood Aunt Elsie waiting to receive them. She was 
 a delicate-looking woman, whose quality, as one read 
 it at first glance, was distinctly that of a lady. That 
 she was somewhat precise and old-fashioned came next, 
 in spite of the graceful French twist in her hair and 
 her pretty lavender dress. She kept her place under 
 the lattice, the color rising slightly in her thin cheeks 
 as the girls came up, and her manner of greeting them, 
 though affectionate, had none of the eager warmth of 
 the earlier meeting. 
 
 Aunt Elsie Saxon, beside her vivacious daughter, or
 
 88 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 her still more sprightly father-in-law, seemed a sin- 
 gularly colorless person, but her quiet unresponsive 
 manner covered a stronger individuality than appeared. 
 The war had made her a widow at the very beginning 
 of the struggle. In the bereavement of those first days 
 she had come with her children to the old home for the 
 help and comfort she sorely needed, but the time never 
 came when she could be spared to leave it. And now 
 lor many years she had been mistress of the house, 
 bearing with the somewhat erratic humors of Ruel 
 Saxon as a more impulsive woman could hardly have 
 done, and consoled, no doubt, for much that was trying 
 by the certain knowledge that in his heart he loved and 
 leaned upon her. 
 
 There was one other member of the family circle, 
 Tom, the sixteen-year-old boy, but he, it appeared, had 
 some pressing duty in the field. At least he did not 
 show himself till supper time, and then he slipped in 
 with the hired man, who, as well as himself, was duly 
 introduced to the cousins. He was a shy, awkward 
 fellow, with a freckled face, and a pair of shrewd ob- 
 servant eyes, in whose glance Kate thought she detected 
 a lurking disdain for the society of girls. She wanted 
 to begin making his acquaintance at once, by way of 
 punishment, of course, but his seat was too far from 
 hers at the table, and he was off like a flash when the 
 meal was over.
 
 AT THE OLD PLACE. 89 
 
 It seemed to both the girls that this was the longest 
 day they had ever known, but its hours did not outlast 
 the pleasure they brought. Esther could not rest till 
 she had rambled about the place to find the old familiar 
 things, and her delight, as she came upon one after 
 another, knew no bounds. There was the cherry tree, 
 almost strangled by the grape-vine which hung around 
 it in a thick green canopy, under which she had done 
 miniature housekeeping in those childish days, and a 
 fragment of old blue china, trodden in the ground, was 
 a find to bring a joy like that of relic-hunters in Assy- 
 rian mounds, when they come upon some mighty 
 treasure. 
 
 " It was a part of our best tea-set, Stella," she cried. 
 " Don't you remember how I broke one of grandmoth- 
 er's company plates by accident, and after mourning 
 over it a little in her gentle way, she gave us the pieces 
 to play with, so I shouldn't feel too badly ? " She 
 wiped the bit on her lace-edged handkerchief and held 
 it for a moment lovingly against her cheek. 
 
 There was the bunch of striped grass, growing still 
 at the corner of the garden, and she felt a childish im- 
 pulse to throw herself on the ground beside it, and hunt, 
 as she used to, for two of the long silky spears which 
 would exactly match. She had never quite done it in 
 the old days. Perhaps she could find them now. She
 
 9O WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 peered up into the tallest of the elms and shouted for 
 joy to find the nest of a fire hangbird swinging just as 
 it used to among the long, lithe branches. She made 
 her way straight to the tree where the pound sweetings 
 grew, and laughed to find that it bore them still, large 
 and golden as ever. 
 
 And here again a childish memory came back with a 
 rippling delight over the years that were past. " Do 
 you remember how I tore my dress one day, climbing 
 that tree to get apples ? " she appealed to Stella. " I 
 could never bring enough down in my pocket, and if I 
 took a basket up it was sure to spill and the chickens 
 to peck the apples before I got down. One day I gave 
 my dress a horrible tear going up. It scared me at first, 
 and then it dawned upon me, What a place for apples ! 
 It was a woollen dress and the skirt was lined. I used 
 that hole for a pocket, and filled the skirt full. It's a 
 wonder I wasn't dragged from the tree by the weight 
 of it. The gathers were dragged from the belt, I re- 
 member that perfectly, and how grandmother looked 
 when I went in to share the booty with her," she added, 
 laughing. 
 
 Oh, it was pleasant, this wandering over the old 
 place, the finding and remembering ! 
 
 It was really inside the house that things were most 
 changed ; but this, as Stella explained, was really a re-
 
 AT THE OLD PLACE. 9 I 
 
 turn to the way they rightly belonged. Much of the 
 furniture which Esther remembered as crowding the 
 dusky garret had come down, and some which her 
 grandmother had rejoiced in as new and handsome 
 had taken its place there. The haircloth sofa and 
 chairs over which she had slipped and slidden in her 
 youthful days had given place to an oak settle and 
 chairs which, in spite of their old-fashioned shape, were 
 roomy and comfortable. One, a delicious old sleepy 
 hollow, covered with the quaintest of chintz, stood in 
 the corner which had been the grandmother's, and the 
 little, round light-stand was beside it, with the leather- 
 covered Bible smooth as glass, and the candlestick and 
 snuffers, as if she still might sit there of an evening to 
 read. 
 
 " Grandfather himself prefers a lamp," Stella re- 
 marked, in passing ; " he says he's got past tallow 
 dips, but out of respect to grandmother's memory 
 I impressed that on him strongly he lets me keep 
 the stand just as she used it." 
 
 She certainly had a genius for restoring the old, and 
 doing it with an art which threw all its stiffness into 
 graceful lines. The fireplace in the sitting room, which 
 had been boarded up in Esther's day, with a sheet- 
 iron stove in front of it, was open now, and the old 
 brass andirons shone at the front. The old bricks
 
 Q2 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 had been cracked with age, but they had been replaced 
 by some blue Dutch tilings representing Bible scenes, 
 which gave the whole a charmingly quaint effect. 
 
 " It came high," Stella said to Esther, who hung 
 on every word of explanation, " and I didn't know 
 for a while as I should get what I wanted. There 
 was a Colonial tile that would have been perfect, but 
 grandfather wouldn't hear of it. Then all at once I 
 lighted on this in a shop in Boston, and I knew the 
 deed was done. Grandfather fell a victim to my ac- 
 count of the pictures, and I couldn't get them quick 
 enough to suit him. I consider that fireplace my 
 greatest triumph." 
 
 The house was really a succession of them. It was 
 only at the pictures on the walls that the girl's desire 
 to restore the old had stopped. " If there had only 
 been some fine old family portraits ! " she said mourn- 
 fully. " But there weren't. I suppose our ancestors 
 never had any money to spend for that sort of thing. 
 There was positively nothing but some wretched prints, 
 and one oil painting that grandmother saved her egg- 
 money for months to buy ; hideous thing, quite on 
 the order of those that are advertised nowadays, 
 ' Picture painted while you wait.' I had to banish 
 them all. There was no other way. But I found 
 some of grandmother's dear old samplers tucked away
 
 AT THE OLD tLACE. 93 
 
 in the drawers, and I pinned them up around to take 
 the edge off the other things." 
 
 " The other things " were some of them her own, 
 and they mingled on the walls with photographs of 
 foreign scenes, and here and there an etching with 
 a name pencilled in the corner, to which she called 
 attention as they passed, with the air of one confident 
 of impressing the beholder. 
 
 "Oh, I've picked up a few good things in the 
 course of my travels," she said, after one of Esther's 
 bursts of admiration. " I'll defy anybody to make a 
 better showing than I with the amount I've spent. 
 Mother thinks I've spent too much ; but it's my only 
 extravagance, positively my only one, and you have 
 to let yourself out in some direction. It's all that 
 makes saving worth while." 
 
 She seemed to have no vanity about her own work, 
 but there was one bit of it before which Esther paused 
 with a long delight, turning back from famous Ma- 
 donnas again and again to gaze at it. 
 
 It was a picture of a sweet old face, framed in a 
 grandmother's cap, very softly done in crayon, and 
 it hung above the little stand in the corner. Below 
 it, pinned carefully on the wall, was an old, old sam- 
 pler, and the faded letters at the top spelled, " Roxana 
 Fuller, aged eleven." It was a deft hand, though so
 
 94 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 young, that had wrought it. There was exquisite 
 needlework in the flowing border, and in the slender 
 maidens at the centre, clasping hands under a weep- 
 ing willow, above the lines : 
 
 "When ye fummers all are fled, 
 When ye wafting lamp is dead, 
 Where immortal fpirits reign, 
 There may we two meet again." 
 
 Why these two sweet creatures, evidently in the 
 bloom of life, should have been consoling themselves 
 with this pensive sentiment it was hard to see; but 
 a consolation it may have been to the poor little artist 
 who achieved them to think of Elysian fields where 
 teachers should cease from troubling and samplers 
 be no more. 
 
 It had grown dark in the house, too dark for any 
 more searching of its treasures, when the two girls 
 at last sat quietly down in the old south doorway. 
 " If grandmother were only here it would all be per- 
 fect," said Esther, with a long, soft sigh. " Somehow 
 it seems strange that she should be gone, and every- 
 thing else just as it used to be. I had no idea I 
 should miss her so." 
 
 " I always miss her when I sit in this doorway in 
 the evening," said Stella. " It was her favorite place. 
 She was so feeble in those last years that she seldom
 
 AT THE OLD PLACE. 95 
 
 got beyond the threshold, but she said there was always 
 some pleasant smell or sound coming in to find her. 
 You ought to have seen her here in the spring. The 
 door was always boarded up in the winter, with a 
 bank across the threshold to keep out the cold, and 
 she was so happy when it was opened. I used to 
 tell her when the frogs began to peep, and she would 
 listen and smile, and say it seemed to her their voices 
 were softer than they used to be. Dear heart, she was 
 so deaf in those days that I really suppose she only 
 heard them singing in her memory, but it was all the 
 same to her. 
 
 "Yes, it was all the same," she repeated musingly, 
 " and just as real, though grandfather used to argue 
 with her sometimes that a person who couldn't hear her 
 own name across the room couldn't hear frogs peeping 
 at a quarter of a mile. And she would admit it some- 
 times in a humble way, but she always forgot it, and 
 enjoyed the singing just the same the next evening." 
 
 " She wasn't a bit like grandfather, was she ? " asked 
 Esther. She wanted Stella to keep on talking about this 
 sweet old grandmother, whom she herself had known 
 only in a brief childish way. 
 
 " Oh, dear, no," said Stella; "there couldn't be two 
 people more unlike. She never talked of herself, 
 and she never quoted scripture unless it was one of
 
 96 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 the promises. Grandfather always lorded it over her 
 in a way, and she was so frail toward the last that 
 he did it more than ever. If the least thing ailed her 
 he thought she was going to die right off, and he 
 always felt it his duty to tell her that she was a very 
 sick woman, and that it would not be surprising if 
 she were drawing near her end." 
 
 She made a soft gurgling in her throat, then went on. 
 
 " But that never worried grandmother a bit. She 
 always said she was willing to go if 'twas the Lord's 
 will ; but, do you know, in her heart she really expected 
 to outlive him ! She told me so once confidentially, 
 and explained, in her perfectly sweet way, that she 
 knew how to manage him better than any one else, 
 and she was afraid it would be a little hard for us to 
 get along with him if she were gone. She said it 
 had been a subject of prayer with her for years, and 
 she had faith that her prayer would be answered." 
 
 She paused, and Esther said gravely : " But she did 
 die before him, after all. I wonder what she thought 
 about her prayer then." Stella shook her head. " I 
 don't know," she said ; " I imagine she didn't think 
 of it at all, but only that God wanted her. It would 
 have been just like her." 
 
 Esther did not speak for a minute. She was pon- 
 dering her grandmother's case, while the crickets in
 
 AT THE OLD PLACE. 97 
 
 the grass filled the stillness with their chirping, and 
 the long, clear call of a whippoorwill sounded from 
 the woods. Presently she asked, " Did she know 
 at the last that she was really going to die ? " 
 
 " I think she did," said Stella. " I've always felt 
 sure she did, though no one else feels just as I do 
 about it." 
 
 She clasped her hands about her knees, and a graver 
 note than usual crept into her musical voice, as she 
 went on. " There was something like a paralytic 
 stroke toward the end, and after that she never got 
 up, but lay in bed, not suffering any pain, but only 
 growing weaker every day. I was with her a great 
 deal, and there never was any one easier to take care 
 of. One morning I was watering the flowers in her 
 window and I saw a cluster of buds, that were almost 
 blown, on her tea rose. She was passionately fond of 
 flowers, and that rose was a special favorite, though 
 it blossomed so seldom that any one else would have 
 lost all patience with it. I knew how pleased she 
 would be, so I took it over to her bed. ' Grand- 
 mother,' I said, ' there are some buds on your tea 
 rose ; it'll be in bloom in a day or two.' If you could 
 have seen how her face lighted up ! ' Why, why,' 
 she said, ' my tea rose ! ' And then she put out her 
 hands all of a tremble, as if she couldn't believe
 
 98 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 it without touching. I guided her dear old fingers, 
 and she moved them over the bush as gently as if 
 it had been a baby's face. ' Oh,' she said, ' it has 
 blossomed so many times when something beautiful hap- 
 pened ! Somehow, it seemed to know. It blossomed 
 when Lucia was married, and the day your mother 
 came home to live with you children ; but I never 
 thought it would be so now. A day or two, did 
 you say ; only a day or two more ? ' And then she 
 closed her eyes with such a smile, and I heard her 
 saying softly to herself, 
 
 " ' There everlasting spring abides, 
 And never-withering flowers.' 
 
 " Her mind wandered a little all that day and the 
 next, and she never once spoke of leaving us, but she 
 slipped away at night as quietly as going to sleep, 
 and in the morning the rose was in bloom. I told 
 grandfather about it afterward, but he didn't attach 
 any significance to it at all. In fact, I think he felt 
 a little mortified, and he said if she had realized that 
 she was on the brink of eternity she wouldn't have 
 been thinking about a rose." 
 
 She was silent a minute, then added : " In one way 
 I don't know but grandmother's prayer was answered 
 after all, for grandfather seemed different after her
 
 AT THE OLD PLACE. 99 
 
 death. He has been more considerate of us all, and 
 we yes, I guess we've tried harder to be good to 
 him. We couldn't help it when we remembered how 
 patient she always was." 
 
 The chirping of the crickets seemed to grow fuller 
 and gladder in the summer stillness, and the notes of 
 the whippoorwill came with yet mellower call. It 
 was as if the influence of a sweet, unselfish, loving 
 spirit filled the place, and somehow it did not seem 
 to Esther Northmore at that moment a poor or pal- 
 try thing to have lived and died one of the common 
 throng.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. 
 
 IN the privacy of their room that night Kate con- 
 fided to Esther two resolutions. The first was 
 that she would not again, during her stay at her 
 grandfather's, needlessly expose her ignorance of any 
 point of Bible history : " For if we're going to get 
 mother into disgrace, and make him think she never 
 taught us anything about it, it'll be a pretty busi- 
 ness," she ended with feeling. 
 
 To this Esther gave cordial assent, but she was 
 not so sure of Kate's wisdom in the other matter; 
 for the girl, with her usual penetration, had guessed 
 that the Eastern relatives held a somewhat exalted 
 opinion of the superiority of New England to the 
 rest of the United States, and announced her intention 
 of correcting it to the best of her ability. Esther, whose 
 loyalty to her own section was not of a combative 
 sort, suggested mildly that people's opinions about 
 things didn't alter them, and that the grandfather, 
 at his advanced age, should at least be left to the
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. IOI 
 
 enjoyment of any prejudices he might have in favor 
 of his native section. 
 
 But the allusion to his age should have been 
 omitted. Kate shook her head at this, and declared 
 that he of all others was the one not to be spared. 
 Was it not his pride and boast that time had not 
 robbed him of either mental or physical vigor? No, 
 no ; she should not hold herself debarred from sup- 
 plying him with new ideas on any subject. It was 
 only when he stood on Bible ground that she should 
 let him alone. 
 
 It was evident the next morning that on this 
 ground he did not intend to let her alone, for at 
 family prayers he read the pathetic story of David's 
 flight from his unworthy son, and his eyes sought hers 
 for a moment with pointed meaning as he paused on 
 the name of the loyal friend whose swift generosity 
 remembered the fugitives, " hungry and weary and 
 thirsty in the wilderness," and who of good right met 
 them again with rejoicing in their hour of victory. 
 
 The quaint old story held the girl's absorbed at- 
 tention to the end. She wished it were longer, and 
 told her grandfather so after breakfast, adding that 
 the way he read the Old Testament made it more 
 interesting than common. 
 
 He received the compliment with complacence.
 
 IO2 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 "Well," he said, "I guess I do read it better than 
 some folks. I guess I'm a little like those men in 
 the days of Ezra the scribe, who stood up before 
 the people, and ' read in the law of God distinctly, 
 and gave the sense, and caused them to understand.' " 
 
 Kate privately wondered how many more people 
 in the Bible her grandfather resembled, but she re- 
 frained from suggesting the query, lest he should 
 claim her attention at once for the whole list. 
 
 It was while they sat at table that morning that 
 he said, looking at her with the sudden lighting of 
 face which marks a mental discovery : " It's your 
 great-aunt Katharine that you put me in mind of. I 
 knew there was somebody. It ain't your looks so 
 much ; but a way you have." 
 
 " Oh, grandfather, how can you ? " cried Stella. 
 " Kate, you won't thank him much for that when 
 you know Aunt Katharine." 
 
 " She's the one I was named for, I suppose," said 
 Kate. " I've heard mother tell about her. Well, if 
 she's disagreeable, there won't be any love lost be- 
 tween us on account of the name. I never did like 
 it particularly." 
 
 " Disagreeable ! " cried Stella, " why, she's the 
 queerest, most cross-grained, cantankerous 
 
 " Stella ! Stella ! " said her mother, severely. " Why
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. 1 03 
 
 will you prejudice your cousins against your poor 
 Aunt Katharine ? " 
 
 " My poor Aunt Katharine will do it herself quick 
 enough," said Stella. " Oh, yes," she added with a 
 little shrug, as she saw her mother's lips parting 
 again, "my mother's going to tell you that Aunt 
 Katharine has had a great deal in her life to try 
 her, and that she is really a remarkably bright and 
 capable woman. It's perfectly true; and several other 
 things are true besides." 
 
 "The trouble with my sister Katharine," said Ruel 
 Saxon, setting down his cup of tea, which he had 
 been drinking so hot that every swallow was accom- 
 panied by an upward jerk of the head and a facial 
 contortion, "the trouble with Katharine Saxon don't 
 lay in her nat'ral faculties. It lays in a stiff-necked 
 and perverse disposition. When she gets a notion 
 into her head she won't change it for anybody, and 
 she's wiser in her own conceit than ' seven men that 
 can render a reason.' " 
 
 " Grandfather himself frequently personates the 
 whole seven," observed Stella, with a nod at her 
 cousins. She smiled, as if the memory of some past 
 scenes amused her, then said soberly : " The fact of it 
 is, Aunt Katharine is a regular crank. There's noth- 
 ing in this world that goes right according to her
 
 IO4 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 notion of it, but she's particularly down on the ways 
 of the men. She ivonld have a little patience with 
 women for she thinks their faults are mostly due 
 to their being so down-trodden if they only wouldn't 
 marry. I've heard her say so! She never married 
 herself, you know, and she has an awfully poor opin- 
 ion of the whole institution." 
 
 Ruel Saxon looked as if he had a word to offer 
 at this point in regard to his sister's matrimonial 
 opinions, but Aunt Elsie was before him. " Now, 
 don't you think," she said, looking gravely at Stella, 
 and incidentally including him in the passing glance, 
 " that we'd better let the girls form their own im- 
 pressions of Aunt Katharine ? They may like her a 
 great deal better than you do, Stella." 
 
 " I'm sure I'm willing," said the girl, with another 
 shrug, and her grandfather, after wrestling with a 
 little more extremely hot tea, seemed to be willing 
 too ; but he suggested that the girls should make an 
 early call on their Aunt Katharine. It would give 
 them a chance of forming the desired impressions, 
 and besides she would expect it. 
 
 The girls accepted the suggestion promptly. In- 
 deed Kate, whose interest in her namesake had been 
 considerably whetted by what had been said of her, 
 proposed that they should go that very morning; but
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. IO5 
 
 to this Aunt Elsie's judgment was again opposed. 
 It seemed that Aunt Katharine had a special dislike 
 to being interrupted in her morning duties by callers, 
 and was disposed to think slightingly of people who 
 hadn't "work enough to keep them at home in the 
 fore part of the day." In the case of her nieces, who 
 must certainly be excused for being at leisure, she 
 might waive the last objection, but it was best to be 
 on the safe side. 
 
 It was settled that the girls, accompanied by their 
 grandfather, should go that afternoon, and if the 
 call had been upon some distinguished person they 
 could not have taken more pains with their toilets. 
 Esther debated between three gowns, and finally 
 settled on a soft gray, with plain white cuffs and 
 collar, while Kate put on a pretty lawn and the dash- 
 ing Roman sash which had been Aunt Milly's parting 
 gift. 
 
 It was less than a half hour's walk across the 
 fields to Aunt Katharine's house, but the grandfather 
 had decided to go by the road in state, and had 
 Dobbin and the two-seated carriage at the door in 
 good time. He had taken a little more pains than 
 usual with his own appearance, and his daughter-in- 
 law added the last touches with careful hand. 
 
 She was not much inclined to the giving of gratui-
 
 IO6 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 tous advice; but, in the absence of the young people 
 from the room, she did say, persuasively, as she ad- 
 justed the old gentleman's cravat : "If I were you, 
 father, I'd try not to get into one of those discussions 
 to-day with Aunt Katharine. We want the girls to 
 have as pleasant an opinion of her as possible, and 
 you know she always appears at a disadvantage 
 when she's arguing with you." 
 
 Sly Aunt Elsie ! There were moments when the 
 wisdom of the serpent was as nothing to hers. Ruel 
 Saxon twisted his neck for a moment impatiently in 
 his cravat, then replied meekly : " Well, I s'pose it 
 does kind of put her out to have me always get the 
 better of her. Katharine has her good p'ints as well 
 as anybody, and I'd be glad to have Lucia's children 
 see 'em. If she don't rile me up too much I'll 
 yes, I'll try to bear with her this afternoon. Solomon 
 says there's a time for everything : a time to keep 
 silence and a time to speak; and mebbe it's a time 
 to keep silence to-day." 
 
 In this accommodating frame of mind he started off 
 with his granddaughters. Stella had declined an in- 
 vitation to accompany them possibly at her mother's 
 suggestion though the fact that the way lay along 
 one of her favorite drives, the old county road, had 
 been something of an inducement to go.
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. IO/ 
 
 It was one of those dear old roads, familiar in 
 every part of New England, through which the main 
 business of the region, now diverted to other high- 
 ways, once took its daily course, but which, as its 
 importance dwindled, had gained in every roadside 
 charm. The woods, sweet with all summer odors, 
 had crept close to its edge ; daisies and ferns en- 
 croached on its borders, and its wavy line made 
 gracious curve for the rock which had rolled from 
 the hill above and lay beside it still, a moss-covered 
 perch for children and squirrels. Here, the birds, 
 not startled too often in their secret haunts, tilted 
 on sprays of the feathery sumach, finishing their songs 
 with confident clearness as the traveller drew near, 
 and the swift brown lizards darted across the way 
 before the very wheels of his carriage. 
 
 Miss Katharine Saxon's farm was one of those 
 which still had contact with the world through this 
 deserted highway, but its comparative isolation had 
 not affected its well-kept appearance. The house was 
 white, with green blinds at the front and sides, but 
 presented a red end to the fields behind, after the 
 fashion of many in that section. The dooryard, a 
 small rectangle, was shut off from the surrounding 
 pastures by a high picket fence, though there were 
 no shrubs, or even a flower-bed, inside the enclosure.
 
 IO8 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 The owner was not visible at any of the windows as 
 her guests walked up the gravel path, which was too 
 narrow to admit of their advancing in any but single 
 file, but the brass knocker had scarcely fallen before 
 she opened the door in person. 
 
 Even Esther had no remembrance of having seen 
 her before, but there could be no doubt of her iden- 
 tity. In feature she was singularly like her brother, 
 but her small thin figure was not trim and straight 
 like his. She was so painfully bent as plainly to 
 need the aid of the stout oak stick on which she 
 leaned, and her hair, in striking contrast with his, 
 was snowy white. She greeted her nieces with as 
 little effusion as their Aunt Elsie, but her quick 
 bright eyes betrayed a much keener interest as they 
 darted sharply from one to the other. 
 
 "Well, Ruel, I s'pose you're feeling just as smart 
 as ever to-day, and just as able to bless the Lord 
 that you ain't as the rest of us are. Thank you, 
 my rheumatism ain't a mite better 'n 'twas the last 
 time you was here, and my sight and hearing are 
 mebbe a little grain worse." 
 
 She delivered herself of this with surprising rapid- 
 ity as she walked before them into the parlor, look- 
 ing back with short quick glances at her brother. 
 He responded by a rather discomfited grunt. Evi-
 
 "SHE OPENED THE DOOR IN PERSON."
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. 1 09 
 
 dently she had the start of him. The parlor was 
 of the primmest New England type, and so dark that 
 for some moments the girls, sitting uncomfortably on 
 straight-backed chairs whose hard stuffed seats seemed 
 never before to have been pressed by a human figure, 
 could scarcely make out what manner of place they 
 had entered. It dawned on them by degrees, and if 
 anything had been needed to enhance the charm of the 
 parlor at the old homestead, the necessary contrast 
 would certainly have been furnished here. 
 
 There was nothing to suggest that any of the 
 ordinary occupations of human life had ever been 
 carried on in this room. The pictures which Stella 
 had banished would seem to have been dragged 
 from their hiding-places and hung on these walls, 
 and beside them there was nothing of mural orna- 
 ment except three silver coffin plates framed in oak 
 on a ground of black. The Northmore girls, gazing 
 in wonder at these shining tablets, could scarcely 
 believe that they were really what they seemed, but 
 Stella, to whom they appealed on their return, 
 promptly disabused them of the doubt. Most cer- 
 tainly these sombre ornaments had their original 
 place on the funeral casket. It was not uncommon, 
 she said, to find such relics displayed in old-fashioned 
 houses in this region.
 
 IIO WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 "There were some in our house once," she added, 
 " but I persuaded grandfather to let me lay them 
 away in the best bureau drawers. He objected at 
 first, but after I put up my Madonnas and cathe- 
 drals he succumbed. I believe he considered the 
 place unfit to display the names of those who had 
 died in the faith." 
 
 But this was afterward. At present Esther was 
 occupied with the strenuous effort to read the names 
 thus honored of Aunt Katharine, and Kate was 
 bending all her energies to discover the points in 
 which she herself resembled that lady. The latter 
 turned upon them now with one of her sharp 
 glances. 
 
 " So you're Lucia's girls," she said with delibera- 
 tion. "Well, you ain't as good looking as she was, 
 neither of you. But handsome is that handsome 
 does ; and if you behave yourselves, you'll do." 
 
 The girls were somewhat taken aback by this, but 
 Kate rallied in a moment. "You can't hurt our 
 feelings by telling us we aren't as good looking as 
 mother was," she said gayly, " for we know she was 
 a regular beauty. Father's told us that over and 
 over." 
 
 " I'll warrant he thought so," chuckled her grand- 
 father, "and he wasn't the only one, neither. Why
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. Ill 
 
 all the likeliest young fellows in town came courting 
 your mother. She didn't have to take up with a 
 Western man because she couldn't get anybody 
 nearer home." 
 
 " Perhaps it was because she had a chance to com- 
 pare the Western man with those around here that 
 she did take up with him," said Kate, quickly. 
 
 It was a fair retort ; but the old gentleman's fore- 
 head puckered for a moment as if he were not quite 
 prepared for it. Before he could say anything in 
 reply his sister had changed the subject, by asking, 
 in her abrupt way, with her eyes fixed on her younger 
 niece, " What do you think of this country ? " 
 
 It is the stereotyped question from the old resident 
 to the newcomer in all parts of the world. Perhaps, 
 convenient as it is in bridging over the awkwardness 
 of first acquaintance, it would be oftener omitted if 
 society remembered that dictum of Dr. Johnson's, 
 that no one has a right to put you in such a posi- 
 tion that you must either hurt him by telling the 
 truth, or hurt yourself by not telling it. Kate North- 
 more had never faced the alternative under very cru- 
 cial conditions, but whatever twinge there might be 
 she preferred on general principles to resign to the 
 other party, and she did so promptly now. 
 
 "Well, I can't say I'm very much struck with the
 
 112 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 looks of it," she said frankly. " It's different from 
 ours, you know ; and these little bits of fields are so 
 funny, all checkered off with stone walls. I haven't 
 got used to them yet." 
 
 Miss Saxon looked at her niece without speaking, 
 but the grandfather bristled at this. " Hm ! " he 
 grunted, " You Western folks seem to think nothing's 
 of any account unless it's big. 'Taint the size of 
 things, but what you do with 'em, that counts." 
 
 "Well, it's a wonder to me what you can do with 
 some of this land of yours, it's so rough and poor," 
 said Kate, lightly. " I don't see how the farmers 
 manage to make a living, scratching round among 
 the rocks." Then, with a good-natured laugh, she 
 added : " Oh, we don't despise the littles, out our 
 way, as much as you think ; but when it comes to 
 wheat and corn, and things of that sort, we do like 
 to see a lot of it growing all together. It looks as 
 if there was enough to go round, you know, and 
 makes people feel sort of free and easy." 
 
 Perhaps, in his heart, Ruel Saxon doubted whether 
 it was good for people to feel free and easy in this 
 transient mortal state, but he had no chance just 
 then to discuss the moral advantages of large labor 
 and small returns, for Esther exclaimed, with a 
 glance at her sister which was half reproachful :
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. 113 
 
 " But there are so many other things in a country 
 besides the crops ! For my part, I think New Eng- 
 land is perfectly beautiful. I believe I'm in love with 
 it all." 
 
 Miss Katharine Saxon turned her head and looked 
 at the girl attentively. The mother must have been 
 very pretty indeed if she had ever looked prettier 
 than Esther did at that moment. A delicate pink 
 had risen in her cheeks, and her brown eyes seemed 
 unusually soft and lustrous in the warmth with 
 which she had spoken. She had made a lucky sug- 
 gestion, and her grandfather took his cue instantly. 
 
 "We never pretended that our strong p'int was 
 raising wheat V corn here in New England," he said 
 loftily. " The old Bay State can do better than that. 
 She can raise men ; men who fear God and honor 
 their country, and can guide her in the hour of 
 need with the spirit of wisdom and sound under- 
 standing." 
 
 "We've got some of that sort, too," said Kate, 
 cutting in at the first pause. "The only difference 
 is you started on your list a little ahead of us." 
 
 But the remark was lost on her grandfather. He 
 
 was on solid ground now, and he felt his eloquence 
 
 rising. " You talk about our land being poor. Well, 
 
 mebbe 'tis ; mebbe we do have to scratch round 
 
 i
 
 114 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBFRRIES. 
 
 among the rocks to make a living, but we've scratched 
 lively enough to do it, and support our schools and 
 churches, and start yours into the bargain. We've 
 scratched deep enough to find the money to send lots of 
 our boys to college there's been a good many of 'em 
 right from this district. There was Abner Sickles that 
 went to Harvard from the back side of Rocky Hill, 
 where they used to say the stones were so thick you 
 had to sharpen the sheep's nose to get 'em down to the 
 grass between ; there was Baxter Slocum thirteen 
 children his father had there were the Dunham 
 boys, three out of six in one family." 
 
 For the last minute Miss Katharine Saxon had 
 been moving uneasily in her chair. Her square 
 chin, which had been resting on her clasped hands 
 at the top of her cane, had come up, and her eyes 
 were fixed sharply on her brother. 
 
 "While you're about it, Ruel," she said, inter- 
 rupting him in the dryest of tones, " you might just 
 mention some o' the girls that have been sent to 
 college from these old farms." 
 
 Ruel Saxon, reined up thus suddenly in the onward 
 charge of his eloquence, opened and closed his lips for a 
 moment with a rather helpless expression. She waited 
 for him to speak, her thin hands gripping the cane, 
 and the corners of her mouth twitching ominously.
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. I 15 
 
 "Well, of course, Katharine," he said testily, "there 
 hain't been as many girls. For that matter there 
 warn't the female colleges to send 'em to fifty years 
 ago ; but you know yourself there hain't been the 
 means to send 'em both, the boys and the girls, and 
 if it couldn't be but one 
 
 He paused to moisten his lips, and she took up the 
 word with an accent of intense bitterness. " If there 
 couldn't be but one, it must be the boy, of course, 
 always the boy. Oh, I know ! Yes, and I know how 
 the girls 'n' their mothers have slaved to send 'em. It 
 ain't the men that have learned how to get more out 
 of the farms ; it's the women that have learned how to 
 get along with less in the house. There was Abner 
 Sickles ! Yes, there was ; and there was his sister 
 Abigail, too. I went to school with 'em both. She 
 was enough sight smarter 'n he was ; always could see 
 into things quicker, 'n' handle 'em better, but they took 
 a notion to send him to college, wanted to make a 
 minister of him, and she stopped going to school 
 when she was fourteen, and did the housework for 
 the family, her mother was always sickly, and 
 then sat up nights, sewing straw and binding shoes 
 to earn money for Abner." She paused, with a note 
 in her voice which suggested a clutch at the throat, 
 then added: "She died when she was twenty. Went
 
 Il6 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 crazy the last part of the time, and thought she'd 
 committed the unpardonable sin. It's my opinion 
 somebody had committed it ; but 'twarn't her." 
 
 It was the old gentleman who was moving uneasily 
 now. " It was too bad about Abigail," he said, with 
 a shake of the head. " I remember her case, and 'twas 
 one of the strangest we ever had in the church. I 
 went out to see her once, with two of the other dea- 
 cons, and we set out the doctrine of the unpardonable 
 sin clear and strong, and showed her that if she really 
 had committed it she wouldn't be feeling so bad about 
 it she'd have her conscience seared as with a hot 
 iron ; but she couldn't seem to lay hold of any com- 
 fort. However, it was plain that her mind wasn't 
 right, and I don't believe the Lord held her respon- 
 sible for her lack of faith." 
 
 The old woman gave an impatient snort. " If he 
 didn't hold somebody responsible, you needn't talk 
 to me about justice," she said fiercely. " I don't know 
 how you and the other deacons figured it out, Ruel, 
 but if it ain't the unpardonable sin for folks to act 
 like fools, when the Lord has given 'em eyes to see 
 with, and sense enough to put two and two together, 
 I don't know what 'tis. I tell you the whole trouble 
 grew out of that notion that a boy must be sent away 
 to school just because he was a boy, and a girl must
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. 
 
 be kept at home just because she was a girl. If the 
 Almighty ever meant to have things go that way why 
 didn't He give the men the biggest brains, and put 
 the strongest backs V arms on the women ? Heaven 
 knows they've needed 'em." 
 
 A good memory was undoubtedly one of Ruel 
 Saxon's strong points, but all recollection of the gentle 
 warning his daughter-in-law had given him was put 
 utterly to flight by this speech of his sister's. He 
 stiffened himself in his chair, and his nostrils dilated 
 (to use a pet figure of his own) " like a war-horse 
 smelling the battle from afar." 
 
 " Katharine," he said, " you darken counsel by words 
 without knowledge. I don't pretend, and nobody ever 
 pretended, that Abigail Sickles or' to have worked 
 herself to death to keep Abner in college. Her folks 
 or' to have seen it in time, and stopped her. But you 
 take too much upon yourself when you want to change 
 things round from the way the Lord made 'em. It's 
 the men that have got to be at the head of things in 
 church and state ; it's the men that have got to go 
 out into the world and earn the living for the women 
 and children ; and it's because they've needed the edu- 
 cation more, and had more call to use it, that the boys 
 have been sent to college instid of the girls. There's 
 reason in all things."
 
 Il8 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 She broke in upon him with a short, scornful laugh. 
 " There's a terrible good reason sometimes, Ruel, why 
 the women have to earn the living for themselves, 'n' 
 the children too; and that's to keep themselves from 
 starving. Who earned the living for Nancy's chil- 
 dren when she brought 'em all home to the old house 
 forty years ago ? Well, I guess she 'n' I earned most 
 of it." 
 
 She lifted her shoulders with an effort, and added : 
 " Shouldn't be quite so near doubled together now if it 
 hadn't been for bending over that spinning-wheel day 
 in 'n' day out, working to get food 'n' clothes for those 
 children, the six of 'em that John Proctor ran away 'n' 
 left. You talk about men going out in the world to 
 earn the living. It would be a good thing for the 
 women to go into the world too, sometimes. Mebbe 
 they wouldn't be quite so helpless then when they're 
 left to shift for themselves." 
 
 The old man winced. "You had an awful hard time, 
 Katharine, you 'n' Nancy. John Proctor didn't do his 
 duty by his family," he said ; and then he faced her 
 with a fresh impatience. " But that ain't the way the 
 men gener'ly do, is it? To hear you talk a body'd 
 think the women had just naturally got to plan for that 
 sort of thing. You want 'em to go out into the world, 
 like the men, and make a business of it. I'd like to
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. IIQ 
 
 know who'd take care of the home 'n' the children if 
 they did. Home is the place for women. The Apostle 
 Paul " 
 
 There was a distinct flash of anger now in the small, 
 bright eyes of Miss Katharine Saxon. " Don't tell me 
 what Paul said," she exclaimed. "I tell you that notion 
 o' his, that there was nothing a woman had a right to 
 do but marry, 'n' have children, 'n' tend the house, is at 
 the bottom of half the foolishness there is in the world 
 to-day. Women have just as good a right to pick 'n' 
 choose what they shall do as the men have. And some 
 of 'em had a good deal better do something else than 
 marry the men that want 'em. I tell you Paul didn't 
 know it all. 'Cording to his own account he had to be 
 struck by lightning before he could see some things, 
 and if another streak had come his way mebbe he'd 
 caught sight of a few more that were worth looking at." 
 
 Ruel Saxon gazed at his sister for a minute speech- 
 less. Then he said solemnly, "Katharine, there is such 
 a thing as blasphemy, and I'd be a little careful if I 
 was you how I talked about the Lord's dealings with 
 his saints." 
 
 He glanced at his granddaughters as he said it, as if 
 to suggest that their morals, if not his own, might be 
 impaired by such language. 
 
 " Laws, Ruel," she said briskly, " I'd somehow got
 
 I2O WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 it into my head that that thing happened to him on the 
 way to Damascus, and I didn't know as you or anybody 
 else called Saul of Tarsus a saint." 
 
 She had him at a moment's disadvantage, and the 
 thin, high, mocking laugh with which she ended put 
 the finishing touch to his irritation. 
 
 " As the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is the 
 laughter of a fool," he said, with slow emphasis. 
 
 It should be observed in passing that Deacon Saxon's 
 use of the name which he had just bestowed by implica- 
 tion on his sister was, like the text itself, Solomonic. 
 The person lacking, not in knowledge, but in moral 
 sense, was the one whom the wise man called a fool, 
 and there were moments when Katharine Saxon ap- 
 peared to her brother to be so wanting in this respect 
 as to come fairly under the title. It was not the first 
 time that his frankness had led him to bestow it on her. 
 
 " Hey ? " she said, leaning forward suddenly, with 
 her hand curled about her ear. 
 
 That she had not caught the words was by no means 
 certain. It suited her humor sometimes to offset his 
 boastfulness as to his good hearing with a certain pa- 
 rade of her own slight deafness, and the occasions for 
 making him repeat himself were often cunningly chosen. 
 For once he did not do it. Perhaps, a second time, he 
 remembered the presence of his granddaughters.
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. 121 
 
 As for the girls themselves, they caught their breath, 
 in the silence that followed, with something like a gasp. 
 It is safe to say that they had never been present 
 before at such an interview between relatives. Kate 
 would not have minded a renewal of hostilities, but 
 Esther, with better grace, seized the chance to effect 
 a truce by turning the conversation into a more 
 peaceful channel. 
 
 "Aunt Katharine," she said eagerly, "you spoke of 
 the spinning you used to do. Have you the old wheel 
 now ? I've heard mother tell what a wonderful spinner 
 you were, and I should so like to see the very wheel 
 you used." 
 
 The old woman took her hand from her ear and 
 turned toward the girl. " No," she said, " I hain't got 
 the old wheel now ; one of Nancy's girls wanted it, and 
 I let her carry it off. 'Twasn't any account ; pretty 
 near as much wore out as I was when it stopped 
 running." 
 
 Evidently she felt that her passage-at-arms with her 
 brother was ended. The sharpness of her expression 
 relaxed, and she rose from her place with her ordinary 
 manner. " I can show you a piece of linen your 
 mother wove, if you want to see it. She'd have made 
 a good spinner herself if she'd stuck to it, but I s'pose 
 she forgot all about it long ago. Well, there's plenty
 
 122 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 other ways for women to use their time nowadays, 
 and I'm glad of it." 
 
 The rest of the call ran smoothly. Miss Saxon could 
 be even gracious when she was so disposed, and she 
 treated her guests to a bottle of raspberry vinegar, 
 which, in spite of the fact that she had brewed it herself, 
 was not in the least too sharp, with fruit cake which 
 time had brought to the most perfect mellowness. Her 
 nieces would have left her house imagining that the 
 " queerness," of which she had given such ample proof, 
 was confined to the one subject which she had dis- 
 cussed with her brother, had it not been for a little 
 episode at the very end of the call, and for this, as it 
 happened, the old gentleman was again responsible. 
 
 " How are you getting along with your garden, 
 Katharine ? " he asked. " I was thinking mebbe I or' to 
 send Tom down here to do a little weeding for you." 
 
 A peculiar smile gleamed suddenly in the eyes of his 
 sister. "Thank ye, Ruel, I've got all the help I need 
 jest now," she said. "Come out'n' take a look at my 
 garden." 
 
 She led the way to the rear of the house, and 
 stepped before them into the trim little garden. It 
 was of the old-fashioned sort, with vegetables growing 
 in thrifty rows, and bunches of such flowers as phlox, 
 sweet william, and bachelor's buttons standing at the
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. 123 
 
 corners of the walks. It would have seemed a model 
 of conventional primness, but for a curious figure 
 seated on a three-legged stool, puffing tobacco smoke 
 from a long Dutch pipe in among the branches of a 
 rose-bush. 
 
 He might have been upwards of sixty ; a dapper 
 little man with a shining face, and a round head 
 covered as to its top by an embroidered cap adorned 
 with a crimson tassel. His waistcoat was of gay old- 
 fashioned silk, across which was strung a huge gold 
 chain, and a flaming topaz pin adorned the front of his 
 calico shirt. At sight of the company issuing from the 
 house he started from his seat and trotted up the walk 
 to meet them, his hand extended and his face expres- 
 sive of the most beaming cordiality. 
 
 Ruel Saxon, who was following his sister with a 
 meekness of deportment which had sat uneasily upon 
 him ever since the close of their discussion, started as 
 his eye fell on this person, and threw up his head with 
 a movement of surprise and irritation. " Good day, 
 Solomon," he said stiffly, as they came together, Miss 
 Saxon having stepped aside to give free course for the 
 meeting. 
 
 " Why, how d'y' do, Deacon, how d'y' do ? " exclaimed 
 the other, seizing the old gentleman's hand, which, to 
 tell the truth, had not been offered him, and shaking
 
 124 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 it furiously. " It's been a terrible long time since 
 you and I met. I I was thinkin' the other day 
 I or' to come round and see how you was gittin' 
 along." 
 
 The deacon did not look overjoyed at the mention 
 of the intended honor. " How long has Solomon 
 been here ? " he asked rather curtly, turning to his 
 sister. 
 
 " Two weeks to-morrow," she replied, with equal 
 curtness. Then, turning to the little man, and from 
 him to the girls, she said with marked politeness, " Mr. 
 Ridgeway, these are my nieces, Lucia Saxon's children. 
 I guess you remember her." 
 
 The little man pulled the cap from his head, reveal- 
 ing a crown as bald as a baby's, and bowed himself up 
 and down with the fervor of an Oriental. " Lucia 
 Saxon ? What, her that married the doctor and went 
 out West ? Why, sartin, sartin. She was one of the 
 nicest gals I ever see, and the prettiest spoken. I I 
 guess your mother must 'av' told you about me," he 
 added eagerly. " I took her home from spellin' school 
 once. She had spelled down everybody but me ; but I 
 was older 'n she was, you know, a good deal older." 
 The delight of the remembrance seemed to overcome 
 him, and he hopped first on one foot, then on the other, 
 like an excited child.
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. 125 
 
 Ruel Saxon's face worked curiously while this per- 
 formance lasted. " I don't see but what your garden 
 truck is getting on all right," he said in the dryest of 
 tones, " and I guess the girls 'n' I'd better be going." 
 
 He turned, making his way past the others, regard- 
 less of the fact that his footprints were left in the 
 onion-bed which bordered the walk, and headed the 
 line again toward the house. 
 
 " I shall write to mother that we have seen you," 
 said Esther, smiling back at the little man, who still 
 stood bowing with his cap in his hands, and Kate 
 gave him a friendly nod, though her mouth was 
 twitching with amusement. 
 
 Aunt Katharine said good-by to them at the front 
 door. " If you ever feel like seeing the old woman 
 again, come down," she said to the girls. " 'Tain't 
 so very far across the fields, and you can follow the 
 cow-path." Then, without waiting to see them go, 
 she closed the door. 
 
 " Grandfather," Kate burst out when they were 
 fairly off, "who in the world is that man, and how 
 does he come to be at Aunt Katharine's ? " 
 
 "That man," he repeated, deepening his tone with 
 an accent of disgust, " is a poor half-witted cretur 
 that belongs at the poorhouse. He stays there most 
 of the time, but now 'n' then he gets a restless spell
 
 126 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 and they let him out. Then he always comes round 
 to your Aunt Katharine's, and she takes him in." 
 
 " Well, he's the queerest acting man I ever came 
 across," said Kate, "and how he was dressed out, 
 with his fine flowered vest and his jewellery ! " 
 
 " ' Jewellery ! ' ' grunted her grandfather. " He 
 didn't have on any compared with what he has some- 
 times. Why, when he really dresses up, that cretur 
 covers himself all over with it." 
 
 The girls looked so astonished that he apparently 
 felt it incumbent on him to attempt some explana- 
 tion of the man. "The fact is," he said, "Solomon 
 Ridgeway is as crazy as a loon on one p'int. He 
 thinks he's rich, though for aught I know he's got 
 as much sense about other things as he ever had. 
 He thinks he's terrible rich, and that the best way 
 to keep his property, as he calls it, is in gold and 
 jewels. He's got a trunkful of it wo'thless stuff, 
 of course that he carries with him everywhere. I 
 s'pose it's stowed away somewhere at your Aunt 
 Katharine's now." 
 
 Kate really seemed past speaking for a moment, and 
 Esther exclaimed in a tone of utter bewilderment, 
 " Well, I should have thought Aunt Katharine was the 
 last person in the world who would want such a man 
 at her house. What makes her do it ? "
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. 
 
 " The Lord only knows," said the old gentleman 
 solemnly. And then he -jerked the reins and urged 
 Dobbin on his way in a tone of uncommon asperity. 
 
 The fact was, the question had a special irritation for 
 him. That his sister, who flouted wise men and 
 scorned the opinions of those having authority, should 
 bear with the vagaries of a being like Solomon Ridgeway 
 was a thing that passed his understanding. With the 
 man himself he might have had some patience, though 
 his form of mania was peculiarly exasperating to his 
 own hard common sense, and somehow he could not help 
 resenting it that " Solomon," of all names, should have 
 lighted on so foolish a creature ; but that, such as he 
 was, he should be the object of Katharine Saxon's 
 pointed and continuous favor was trying beyond 
 measure to her brother. He lapsed into a silence 
 quite unusual with him, and the girls did not disturb it 
 again on the way home. 
 
 They were longing to talk the visit over with 
 Stella, but she was away when they reached the house, 
 and Aunt Elsie asked no questions beyond an inquiry 
 for Aunt Katharine's health. It was at supper that 
 the subject found its way into the family talk, and then 
 Stella, who had just come in, opened it. 
 
 " Well, I hope you enjoyed your call on Aunt 
 Katharine," she said, smiling at her cousins.
 
 128 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 "Of course we did," said Kate, promptly. "You 
 didn't begin to tell us how interesting she is." 
 
 "Oh, but you should have been there on a day 
 when she and grandfather discussed things," said 
 Stella. "That's the time when she really shows her 
 quality." She sent a demure glance at the old gentle- 
 man as she spoke. How she had become possessed of 
 his intention to refrain from controversy is not certain, 
 but somehow she had it. 
 
 He glanced with obvious embarrassment at his grand- 
 daughters. Then he set down his cup of tea, and 
 faced his daughter-in-law. " Elsie," he said, in a tone 
 whose humility was really touching, " I meant to stand 
 by what I said to you. I certainly did ; but I couldn't 
 do it." He cleared his throat and his tone grew firmer. 
 " I couldn't do it, and I don't know as I shall be held 
 responsible for it, either. The Bible says, ' As much as 
 lieth in you, live peaceably with all men,' and I 
 s'pose that means women too, but it don't lie in 
 me, and it never will, to keep my mouth shut while 
 folks are advancing such notions as Katharine did 
 this afternoon. I did contend with her ; I certainly 
 did." 
 
 The Northmore girls could not keep straight faces, 
 and Stella broke into a delighted giggle. " I'm sure 
 'twas your duty, grandpa, and I'm glad you did it,"
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. I2Q 
 
 she said. " What was it this time ; woman's rights, or 
 the folly of getting married, or what? " 
 
 She glanced at her cousins as she asked the question, 
 and Esther spoke first. " It was education partly, and 
 the question whether women ought not to be as free as 
 men to choose what they shall do. I must say that for 
 my part I thought Aunt Katharine made some real 
 good points, though of course she needn't have been 
 quite so bitter." 
 
 " It was my speaking about Abner Sickles that 
 stirred her up to begin with," said the old gentleman, 
 still addressing himself in half-apologetic tone to Aunt 
 Elsie. " That put her in mind of his sister Abigail, 
 and how she worked herself to death helping him 
 through college." 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder if helping Abner was the great- 
 est comfort the poor girl had," observed Aunt Elsie. 
 
 The unemphatic way in which she sometimes made 
 important suggestions was one of Aunt Elsie's peculiar- 
 ities. No one spoke for a minute, and she turned the 
 conversation away from Aunt Katharine by suddenly 
 asking a question on a wholly different subject.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AUNT KATHARINE CONTINUED. 
 
 AFTER supper that evening, as Ruel Saxon sat 
 in his room in the twilight, Esther came softly 
 in and sat down beside him. 
 
 " Grandfather," she said, " what made Aunt Katha- 
 rine so bitter against the men ? " 
 
 She had been turning the question wonderingly in 
 her thoughts ever since the interview of the after- 
 noon. There was something in the lonely old woman, 
 crabbed of manner and sharp of tongue as she was, 
 which had appealed to her strongly. That she was 
 a unique personality, unlike any one she had seen 
 before, was no doubt a part of it, for Esther loved 
 the striking and picturesque ; but there was more 
 than this. She, too, had felt some touch of revolt 
 against the limitations with which custom had hedged 
 the ordinary life of woman, and Aunt Katharine's 
 fierce, uncaring challenge of it all had not been 
 wholly unpleasing to her. 
 
 " What made Katharine so bitter against the men ? " 
 
 130
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. 131 
 
 repeated her grandfather. He had started at the 
 question, as one does sometimes when called upon 
 suddenly to account for a familiar fact which everyday 
 acquaintance has robbed of all its wonder. " Well, 
 that's a long story, and I don't s'pose anybody but 
 Katharine herself could tell the whole of it ; but there 
 were some things all of us knew, and she did have 
 her grievances there's no doubt but what she had 
 her grievances." 
 
 He jerked off his spectacles, through which he had 
 been trying to read a chapter of Proverbs, settled 
 himself in his chair, dropped his chin in his hand, 
 and began : 
 
 " It started just about the time that Nancy came 
 home with her children ; Nancy was our sister, you 
 know. There were three of us : Nancy and Katha- 
 rine and me. Katharine was the youngest, and she 
 was going to be married that spring to Levi Dodge. 
 He was a likely young fellow, as everybody thought, 
 and they'd been keeping company for upward of 
 a year. But when Nancy came home it changed 
 everything. There were those six children to be 
 done for, and Nancy herself all wore out with work 
 'n' worry, and your grandmother for I was married 
 then, you know had her hands more 'n full with 
 the housework and her own children, and it looked
 
 132 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 to Katharine as if she'd or' to put off getting married 
 a while and help things along here at home." 
 
 "We didn't ask her to, and we didn't so much as 
 know she was thinking of it, till she'd got her mind 
 all made up ; but I tell you we were awful glad, and 
 I never shall forget how Nancy and your grand- 
 mother cried and hugged her, when she told 'em what 
 she was going to do, right here in this room where 
 you V I be to-night." 
 
 He paused, and it seemed to Esther as if the 
 shadows in the dusky room took momentary shape 
 of those three women, young, loving, and in trouble 
 together, who had met there so long ago. Perhaps 
 the old man felt their presence too, for there was a 
 peculiar softness in his voice as he went on : 
 
 "We wouldn't 'a' let her do it, if we'd known 
 how things were coming out, but you see we thought 
 Nancy 'd be in a home of her own again inside a 
 year, and then the way'd be open for Katharine 'n' 
 Levi, and of course we thought he'd be reasonable 
 about it. But bless your heart, when she came to 
 talk it over with him he wouldn't give in an inch. 
 He said she'd giv' her promise to him, and she 
 couldn't go back on it ; he had more claim on her 
 than John Proctor's family had. Well, of course, I 
 don't know what passed between 'em, Katharine
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. 133 
 
 never talked it over much, but she was always high 
 strung, and I guess she gave it to him pretty straight 
 that if he couldn't wait for her a little while under 
 such circumstances he needn't count on having her 
 at all. Anyhow, the upshot of it was he went away 
 mad, and we were dreadful sorry, but we thought 
 he'd get over it in a day or two. He didn't, though. 
 In less 'n a week he was courting Sally Fry, and they 
 two were married on the very day that was set for 
 Katharine's wedding." 
 
 " How perfectly abominable ! " burst out Esther. 
 " I don't wonder she despises the men if that's the 
 way she was treated." 
 
 " She needn't despise 'em all, need she ? " said her 
 grandfather, sharply. "There have been men that 
 could wait as long as any woman. There was Jacob, 
 for instance. He waited seven years for Rachel, 
 working for a hard man all the time, and the Bible 
 says they seemed like only a few days to him for the 
 love he bore her. And then he worked for her 
 seven years more." 
 
 Esther was silent. There was no answer to this 
 case of Jacob, dear old Jacob, a prince indeed, with 
 all his meanness, since he could love like that ! 
 
 " Do you suppose Aunt Katharine really cared for 
 that man?" she asked after a moment.
 
 134 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 " I guess most likely she did," said her grand- 
 father, nodding his head slowly. " She wasn't the 
 kind to say she'd marry a man unless she loved him. 
 But she never made a sound after he left her. She 
 held her head higher than ever, and the way she 
 worked! You'd have thought she had the strength 
 of ten women in her." 
 
 He drew his hand reflectively across his chin for 
 a moment, then added : " But somehow I never 
 thought 'twas that affair with Levi that soured your 
 Aunt Katharine as much as it was the way John 
 Proctor acted. It was strange about Proctor. You 
 see, in those days they could put a man in prison for 
 debt, and he had got in debt not so very deep, only 
 a matter of three or four hundred dollars ; but the 
 man he owed it to was threatening to have the law 
 of him if he didn't pay, and there warn't any way 
 John could turn to get that money. There was noth- 
 ing he could do but get out of the country, and I'm 
 free to confess now that I helped him go. 
 
 " You see, we thought if he could once get into 
 Canada, and work at his trade he was a first-rate 
 carpenter he could pay off that money in a little 
 while, and I agreed to do what I could for his family 
 while he was gone. We went over everything to- 
 gether, and he talked as fair as a man could, and
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. 135 
 
 then I drove with him one day 'n' night, and the 
 relatives up New Hampshire way gave him a lift 
 when he got there, and between us all he was over 
 the border before folks round here knew he was 
 gone. I thought then that I was doing my duty, for 
 it was an unjust law, and they did away with it 
 pretty soon after that ; but looking back now, and see- 
 ing how things turned out, I sometimes wish I'd let 
 John Proctor stay here, and take what came of it." 
 
 " Why, didn't he pay that money, after all ? " asked 
 Esther, as her grandfather paused. 
 
 "Pay it!" he repeated. "Not a cent of it; and 
 what's more we never saw hide or hair of him in 
 this country again. For a while he wrote to his 
 wife, and now 'n' then sent her some money, but it 
 got longer between times, and by'm by the letters 
 stopped for good, though we heard of him now 'n' 
 then, and knew he was alive and earning a good 
 living. I never could figure it out why he acted that 
 way, for Nancy was a good wife, and up to the 
 time he went away John seemed to think as much of 
 his family as other men. There was such a thing in 
 Bible times as folks being possessed with the devil," 
 he added solemnly, " and I have my suspicions that 
 that was what ailed John Proctor." 
 
 He paused when he had made this not wholly un-
 
 136 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 kind suggestion, then went on : " It was terrible 
 hard for all of us, but somehow it seemed as if it 
 worked on Katharine more 'n anybody else. She 
 hated the very name of John Proctor, but she took 
 up the cudgels for his wife 'n' children, and I always 
 thought 'twas slaving for them, and seeing all they 
 went through with, that set her so against the men. 
 Mebbe she might have got over it some, when the 
 children grew older, and times eased up a little, but 
 then came that trouble to Ruth, the oldest of Nancy's 
 girls, and the one Katharine thought the most of. 
 
 " We thought Ruth had made a good match, though 
 the man was consider'ble older 'n she was, her 
 mother hurried it on a little herself, for of course 
 she was anxious to get the girls into homes of their 
 own, but he never was good to her after they were 
 married. He broke her down with hard work, and 
 holding her in, and the poor little thing only lived a 
 year or two. After that if anybody said marriage to 
 Katharine it was like tinder in dry leaves. She took to 
 studying about woman's rights and all that, till she got 
 to be as well, as you saw her this afternoon." 
 
 " Poor Aunt Katharine ! " said Esther, softly. That 
 she had suffered wrong might surely bespeak in a 
 generous mind some excuse for her bitterness, but 
 that, after all, it was not her own wrongs, but those of
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON 137 
 
 others which had burned that bitterness into her soul, 
 made it seem even noble to the girl who had heard 
 her story. 
 
 "Yes, it was too bad. I've always been sorry for 
 Katharine," said the old gentleman, and then he added, 
 with an asperity he could not quite repress: "but 
 the trouble is she got into the way of looking all 
 the time at the worst side of things, and by'm by it 
 'peared to her as if that side reached all the way 
 round. She talks about folks having sense enough 
 to put two 'n' two together, but I notice she always 
 picks out the partic'ler two she wants when she 
 adds things up." 
 
 A light step crossed the threshold at that moment, 
 and Stella Saxon's graceful figure appeared behind 
 her grandfather's chair. " Haven't you had enough 
 of Aunt Katharine for one day, Esther ? " she 
 demanded. " Leave grandfather to think up some 
 new arguments for the next time he goes to see 
 her, and come with me. I want you to see what 
 a picture it is from the back of our old barn when 
 the shadows creep over the hills." 
 
 She lighted the lamp that stood by the open 
 Bible, then slipped her arm through her cousin's 
 and drew her away. " Thank you for telling me 
 all this," said Esther, lingering a moment by her
 
 138 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 grandfather's chair. " I love to hear stories of what 
 happened here so long ago." 
 
 " There are plenty of 'em, and they'll keep," he 
 replied, smiling; and then he returned to the Proverbs 
 again with unabated enjoyment. 
 
 " Do you know," said Esther, as the two walked 
 away, " I believe I should really love Aunt Katha- 
 rine if I knew her." 
 
 Stella gave one of her shrugs. " There's no account- 
 ing for tastes," she said. Then, as she glanced in at 
 the barn door, which they were passing at that moment, 
 she added with a laugh : " I declare, if Kate hasn't 
 managed to make her way with my brother Tom ! 
 They're hobnobbing together like two old cronies." 
 
 The truth was Kate Northmore had made up her 
 mind to get acquainted with her cousin. Whether 
 it was the barn or the boy that had brought her 
 out this evening is not certain. She had a liking 
 for a good quality of each. This particular barn 
 was of a larger sort than she was used to, and the 
 boy she half suspected that he was smaller. There 
 was something wrong about a boy who would go 
 whistling off across the fields when his chores were 
 done without saying " boo " to a girl who was looking 
 after and longing to go with him. However, he 
 might be only timid.
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. 139 
 
 She had no thought of winning a place in his 
 regard by the thing she did when she stepped into 
 the barn to-night, but by chance she had done it. 
 She had seen Dobbin standing in his stall with 
 his harness on, as he had been put there an hour 
 before. There was a rush of work now, for the 
 cows were in the barn, and Tom and the hired man 
 were seated at the milking. She had taken in the 
 situation ; then, with a word to Dobbin and a good- 
 natured slap on his flank, stepped in beside him 
 and removed his unnecessary burden. 
 
 It was a foolish thing to do, for she had on her 
 pretty lawn, sash and all, but the fact that she had 
 not minded her clothes, together with the surprising 
 fact that she could do the deed at all, had impressed 
 Tom deeply. 
 
 "Well," he said, "you're the first girl I ever saw 
 who could do that." 
 
 "That!" repeated Kate, "why, I've helped about 
 horses ever since I was big enough to reach up. 
 Father's a doctor, you know, and the horses have to be 
 got out in a hurry sometimes. I can harness and un- 
 harness about as quick as any man he ever had on the 
 place. I'm strong in my arms." She made a quick, 
 free movement of her arms, from which the sleeves fell 
 back, showing the firm round muscles, then added
 
 I4O WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 lightly : " I like everything about horses, specially driv- 
 ing. Dobbin's too fat to be any good. What makes 
 you feed him so much? " 
 
 "You'd better ask grandfather that question," said 
 Tom. " He never comes into the barn without piling 
 his manger full of hay. He thinks the rest of us 
 abuse him." 
 
 They exchanged a good-natured laugh. Then Kate 
 said : " I should think you would want more than one 
 horse on this place. I don't see how you can stand it 
 to work behind oxen; they're so slow." 
 
 Tom's countenance grew a trifle rigid. "We like 
 them well enough," he said stiffly. 
 
 "Oh, but you wouldn't," protested Kate, "if you'd 
 ever worked with horses. Out our way they do all the 
 work with them, and you'll hardly see a farmer driving 
 into town with a one-horse team." 
 
 Tom would have scorned to appear at all impressed. 
 " I shouldn't care for such a lot of horses," he said. " I 
 like cows. There's more profit in them." 
 
 " Well, when it comes to cows you can make a bigger 
 showing than we can," said Kate, "but that's because 
 you raise milk and we raise crops." And then she 
 added in a tone of candor, " I reckon that makes the 
 difference in the way the work is done. You don't 
 have big fields to plough and reap, and you can afford
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. 14! 
 
 to spend time crawling round behind oxen when we 
 can't" 
 
 Tom did not offer any reply to this interesting 
 theory. " What makes you say ' reckon ' so much ? " 
 he asked abruptly. 
 
 Kate's eyes widened. " It's as good as ' guess,' isn't 
 it?" she retorted. "I'd as lief reckon as guess any 
 time." 
 
 Tom poured his pail of milk into the big strainer and 
 turned to go. " I've got another cow to milk before 
 I'm through," he said. 
 
 "I can milk, too," said Kate, "though I don't care 
 much about it. Aunt Milly taught me." And then she 
 added, with a glance down the line of stalls : " But if I 
 were going to do it I shouldn't want the cows cooped 
 up this way. I should want them out in the barn lot." 
 
 "What, loose in the yard?" repeated Tom. He 
 positively had to stop now. " And have them walking 
 round all the time you're trying to milk them ? Well, 
 I should think that would be a pretty business ! " 
 
 " Our cow doesn't walk round when we're milking 
 her," said Kate. "Why, a cow naturally wants to be 
 milked when the time comes, and it's a great deal 
 pleasanter being outdoors. We don't care so very much 
 about the milking-stool, either," she added, laughing. 
 " I could do it on a pinch without any."
 
 142 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 "What, squat on your feet, and the cow not even 
 tied up ! " ejaculated Tom. The accomplishments of 
 his cousin Kate were certainly out of the ordinary. He 
 looked at her with a growing curiosity, then added 
 loftily : " In this part of the country women don't 
 milk. We don't think it's their business." 
 
 "Well, I'm glad you don't," said Kate; "but 'tisn't 
 such a queer thing for women to do as you seem to 
 think. In most countries women generally do it." 
 
 "I never heard of a woman milking before," said 
 Tom, doggedly. 
 
 Kate's eyes grew big again. "Why, in stories they 
 always do it," she cried. 
 
 Tom looked impervious to any memory of the sort, 
 and she added, with insistence: " You must have heard 
 of the woman who counted her chickens before they 
 were hatched. She had a pail of milk on her head at 
 the very time, you know ; and in the ' House that Jack 
 Built ' it was the ' maiden all forlorn who milked the cow 
 with the crumpled horn.' The man hadn't a thing to 
 do with it except bothering her." 
 
 Certainly Tom could not deny acquaintance with 
 those classics. " I never took much stock in Mother 
 Goose," he said, starting on with his pail again. 
 
 " But you've heard of them," Kate cried triumph- 
 antly. He did not look back this time, but he was
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. 143 
 
 evidently meditating. As for Kate, she felt that the 
 acquaintance had begun in an auspicious manner, and 
 perched on the side of the cutting machine to wait for 
 his return. 
 
 They were together preparing some cut-feed for 
 Dobbin's evening meal when the girls looked in at 
 the door, and the talk was evidently flowing with the 
 greatest ease. 
 
 "This is just like a cutting machine we used to have 
 at home, and I have special reason to remember it," 
 Kate was saying as she turned the wheel, " for I nearly 
 lost the end of my thumb in it when I was a little tot. 
 Father was at home, as good luck would have it, and 
 he fixed it up so quick that no great harm came of it." 
 She held up a pink thumb for Tom's inspection, and 
 added, " You wouldn't know it now by anything except 
 the nail being a little thicker than common at one cor- 
 ner, and that's really been an advantage to me, for I 
 can open a jack-knife without asking a boy to do it for 
 me." 
 
 Tom gave a grunt of approval. " And sharpen the 
 pencil too?" he asked. Then, suddenly: "Are there 
 many boys out your way ? There are more girls 
 here." 
 
 "Oh, there are lots of boys," said Kate, and then she 
 added : " but the nicest one of all has gone to college,
 
 144 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 and we don't see much of him nowadays. Are you 
 going to college ? " 
 
 He stirred the cut-feed for a minute without speak- 
 ing, then shook his head. " Stella wants me to go," he 
 said, "and grandfather used to talk about it, too, but 
 he's sort of given it up lately. I guess he thinks I'm 
 not scholar enough ; and I'm not," he added frankly. 
 " I don't take to studying. I'd rather work- with things 
 that are outside of my own head." 
 
 Kate dropped the handle of the cutting machine. 
 "Tom," she exclaimed, in a tone of heartfelt sympathy, 
 " that's just the way I feel, too. I never did like school 
 as Esther and Mort and some of the others do. I 
 don't want to be a stupid, of course you have to know 
 things or you're no account ; but for my part, I'd never 
 get them out of books if I could get them any other 
 way. I like people and affairs better." 
 
 There is nothing like downright honesty to prepare 
 the way for friendship. They had made a frank dis- 
 closure of feeling on an important subject, and Kate 
 and Tom were comrades from that moment ; comrades, 
 in spite of the fact that certain other points of view 
 were by no means held in common, and that each con- 
 tended strenuously for his own. They talked for ? 
 long time of cousinly affairs. With his mother's quiet 
 way of looking at things, Tom had a considerable spice
 
 AUNT KATHARINE SAXON. 145 
 
 of his grandfather's shrewdness, and Kate found his 
 opinions on various matters interesting. 
 
 " Aunt Katharine must be a strange woman," she 
 said, when they had touched on a variety of other sub- 
 jects. " Do they always fight, she and grandfather, as 
 they did to-day ? " 
 
 " Always," said Tom, promptly. " It's nip and tuck 
 every time they come together. You'd think sometimes 
 they fairly hated each other. But if one of them gets 
 sick you ought to see how the other frets. Grandfather 
 gets into a regular stew sometimes over her living off 
 there by herself ; but it's a good thing she does. We 
 couldn't stand it if she lived here." 
 
 " What supports her ? " asked Kate, with her quick 
 instinct for practical details. 
 
 " Supports her ? " repeated Tom ; " why, Aunt Kath- 
 arine's rich. Didn't you know that? She had some 
 property left to her years ago, it was city land, I 
 believe, and it rose in value so it made a fortune. I 
 heard grandfather say once that she must have as 
 much as forty thousand dollars of her own." The sum 
 seemed unlimited wealth to the country boy. " Nobody 
 knows what she'll do with it," he added ; " she'll want 
 to fix it so the men can't get it. She says she'd leave 
 it to one of her female relatives if she could find one 
 who'd promise never to marry." 
 
 L
 
 146 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 " She'd better propose that to Stella," said Kate ; 
 " she's so fond of her art." 
 
 Tom whistled. "She isn't so fond of it but she'd 
 leave it quick enough if the right one asked her," he 
 said astutely. 
 
 And then they rose and walked together toward 
 the house. Aunt Elsie, in the kitchen door, was call- 
 ing, with an anxious note in her voice : " Girls, girls, 
 why don't you come in ? You're staying out in the 
 dew too long."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 HUCKLEBERRYING. 
 
 IT seemed as if a summer of ordinary time was com- 
 pressed into that first fortnight at the old home- 
 stead. Esther wondered sometimes whether the 
 surrounding hills, over whose tops the morning broke 
 earlier, and in whose soft green hollows the twilights 
 seemed to linger longer than any she had known 
 before, had not something to do with the lifting of the 
 days into the lengthened space of life and happiness. 
 The charm of the New England landscape, its restful 
 yet enticing beauty, its reserves, its revelations, had 
 captured her fancy and her heart completely. Her 
 letters were full of the new delight. Mrs. Northmore 
 smiled as she read them, and felt that in Esther she 
 was living over again the joys of her own girlhood. 
 As for Kate, she was feeling the new environment 
 as keenly as her sister, but there was a difference in 
 the letters. They were not rhapsodical, and they were 
 sprinkled with questions, such, for instance, as, " Dorit
 
 148 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 we speak as correctly in the West as they do in New 
 England ? " " Isn't it absurd to drop the r clear out 
 of words, and do we over-do it ? " 
 
 Between herself and Tom Saxon there was continual 
 sharpshooting as to the relative merits of their re- 
 spective sections, but it did not diminish in the least 
 their relish for each other's company. She rode with 
 him in the mornings to the milk factory, and occa- 
 sionally took down the load of cans in his stead. She 
 went with him for the cows, and was regularly de- 
 pended on as the person to take the luncheon to the 
 hayfield in the middle of the forenoon. Sometimes 
 she stopped and ate a doughnut with the workmen 
 under the trees, but she had not yet developed a fond- 
 ness for the peculiar beverage compounded of water, 
 molasses, and vinegar, vaguely called "drink," which 
 seemed the approved liquid in this region for quench- 
 ing the thirst of haymakers. 
 
 Indeed, the daily round furnished to each of the girls 
 so much of enjoyment that they could easily have 
 spared the more formal pleasures, but Aunt Elsie had 
 definite ideas as to the courtesies due between fami- 
 lies, and Stella's prestige in the community gained 
 ready attention for her cousins. There were calls in 
 plenty to be received and returned, and for picnics 
 and teas there were early invitations.
 
 HUCKLEBERRYING. 149 
 
 Esterly was counted one of the most social of New 
 England towns, and its summer population included 
 city boarders who had a mind for pleasure. They fell 
 in with whatever was planned for them, Kate and 
 Esther, with ready enjoyment, yet for them both the 
 distinctive engagements of the old home and the old 
 farm remained easily the best. One of them, sug- 
 gested by Aunt Elsie one day at table, brought a thrill 
 of peculiar pleasure. 
 
 " I do wish," she said, with a glance at the young 
 people which included them all, "that we could get 
 some huckleberries. They say they're ripe on Gray's 
 Hill, and I do need something to make pies of." 
 
 Stella gave a little sigh. It was the first invita- 
 tion of the season to an occupation which she detested ; 
 but Esther exclaimed : " Go huckleberrying ! Oh, I 
 should like that so much ! I've heard mother talk 
 about huckleberrying, and I want to see what it's 
 like." 
 
 "So do I," said Kate, eagerly. "Why can't we 
 go this afternoon?" 
 
 Stella gave another sigh, this time a deeper one. 
 " Oh, what accommodating creatures you are ! " she 
 said. " I ought to want to go with you, of course, 
 but to tell the honest truth I don't hanker for it, 
 and I'm positively opposed to climbing Gray's Hill
 
 150 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 unless we know for certain that those berries are 
 ripe." 
 
 " I saw some there yesterday, over on the south 
 side," said Tom. 
 
 "Then maybe you'd better go too," said his mother, 
 persuasively. " You could show the girls right where 
 they are." 
 
 Tom may have regretted that he had aired his 
 knowledge, but there was no escape for him now, 
 especially as his grandfather added briskly, "Yes, 
 Tom, you can go as well as not, for we shan't 
 get in the hay that's down this afternoon, it's so 
 cloudy." 
 
 And so it happened that an hour later the four, 
 well supplied with tin pails, were off in search of 
 huckleberries. Across the fields odorous of new- 
 mown hay, by the foot-bridge over the meadow brook, 
 across the old county road and over the low stone 
 wall, they made their pleasant pilgrimage. Tom and 
 Kate were ahead, she keeping steady pace with his 
 easy swing, lowlander though she was, and not to 
 the manner born of such climbing as this. Once, in 
 a dimple of the hill, she made a dash forward, and, 
 swinging her pail above her head, shouted : " I've 
 found the first ! Here they are ! " 
 
 But Tom, who was up with her in a moment, gave
 
 HUCKLEBERRYING. 15 1 
 
 a whoop of disdain as he scanned the low cluster of 
 bushes. " Those ! why, those are blueberries. Don't 
 you know the difference ? " 
 
 Kate confessed with some humility that she did 
 not, but the humility vanished when he added loftily : 
 " And just as like as not you never will. There 
 were some Westerners boarding over at Lester's one 
 summer, and those folks couldn't tell one from t'other 
 clear up to the end of the season." 
 
 "Well," said Kate, with a toss of her head, "maybe 
 we can't tell huckleberries from blueberries, but we 
 can always tell hickory nuts from walnuts, which is 
 more than you folks here can do, and there's a sight 
 more difference between them than there is between 
 these little things." 
 
 She broke a blueberry bush, and looked at it with 
 an attention which promised that she, at least, would 
 know the species when she met it again, then started 
 on with the remark, "Well, whichever of them I get, 
 I mean to fill my bucket with something before I 
 leave this hill." 
 
 "There you go again," grumbled Tom, who had 
 been rather set back by the taunt about the nuts. 
 " You always call a pail a bucket." 
 
 "Well, it is a bucket," cried Kate, beating a tattoo 
 on the bottom of hers with spirit. " You couldn't
 
 152 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 prove that I was wrong when you went to the dic- 
 tionary about it, and anyway it isn't half as funny to 
 call a pail a bucket as to call a frying-pan a ' spider ' 
 and a stool a ' cricket.' ' 
 
 " I suppose you children are quarrelling about some- 
 thing as usual," observed Stella, who with Esther 
 had just caught up with the advance guard. " I 
 wonder how you can keep it up so steadily. I should 
 think you'd sometimes get tired." 
 
 " I'll tell you one thing, sis," said Tom, with 
 brotherly responsiveness, "you'll have to keep at 
 the picking a little steadier than you generally do, 
 or it won't make anybody tired to carry home the 
 berries you'll get. This is the way she does," he 
 added, turning to his cousins ; " she goes fidgeting 
 round, looking for the place where they're thickest, 
 and when she finds it she settles down and draws 
 a picture of a tree, or a rock, or something. I'll bet 
 she's got her drawing things with her now." 
 
 Stella did not deny the charge. " What irrelevant 
 remarks you do contrive to make, Tom ! " she said. 
 " Come, go ahead, if you mean to show us where 
 those berries are." 
 
 They found them, and were all busily picking in a 
 few minutes more. However Stella's interest in huckle- 
 berries might flag later on there was no criticism to
 
 HUCKLEBERRYING. 153 
 
 be made on her attention at first, and her fingers flew 
 over the bushes at a rate which augured well for the' 
 filling of her pail. As for the North more girls, they 
 were in ecstasies. Kate settled down to the business at 
 once, though for a while she ate most of the berries she 
 picked, while Esther paused between the handfuls to 
 take long whiffs of the sweet fern which grew every- 
 where among the bushes, and to fill her eyes with the 
 landscape which looked fairer than ever from the side 
 of this green old hill. 
 
 Everything was interesting the sights, the smells, 
 the blossoms which were all around them ; even the 
 sprig of lobelia which Tom presented for his cousins' 
 tasting, having first cunningly prepared the way with 
 spearmint and pennyroyal how Kate wished she 
 could return the favor with a green persimmon ! and 
 the slender yellow worm, industriously measuring the 
 bushes, had its own claim to attention. Its name and 
 manner of travel reminded Kate of one of Aunt Milly's 
 songs with an admonishing refrain of, " Keep an inch- 
 ing along, Keep an inching along," and she trolled it 
 out with a rollicking plantation accent that charmed her 
 audience. 
 
 Perhaps it was the singing which drew a traveller 
 who was climbing up the hill in their direction. In a 
 pause of the verses Tom suddenly exclaimed : " Upon
 
 154 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 my word, there's Solomon Ridgeway. He's got his 
 pack on his back, too. Let's have some fun." 
 
 It was indeed the queer protege of Aunt Katharine 
 who appeared at that moment, bowing and smiling as 
 he emerged from behind a rock. Evidently Tom did 
 not share his grandfather's extreme dislike for the 
 man's society, for he advanced to meet him in the most 
 friendly manner. 
 
 "Well, Solomon," he exclaimed, "so you thought 
 you'd come huckleberrying, too ! Do you expect to fill 
 that box of yours this afternoon ? " 
 
 The face of the little old man, which was fairly 
 twinkling with pleasure, expressed an eager dissent. 
 "Oh, no, I I didn't come huckleberryin'," he said, 
 " and I couldn't think of puttin' 'em in this box. Why 
 this box " he lowered his voice with a delighted 
 chuckle " has got some of my jewels in it. You see, 
 I'm goin' over to see little Mary Berger. They say 
 she's got the mumps, and I kind o' thought 'twould 
 brighten her up to see 'em. It don't hurt the children 
 bless their hearts to see fine things; it does 'em 
 good. And I always tell "em," he added earnestly, 
 " that there air things better 'n pearls and rubies. 
 'Tain't everybody that the Lord gives riches to, and if 
 they're good they'll be happy without 'em." 
 
 "Why, that's quite a moral, Solomon," said Tom.
 
 HUCKLEBERRYING. 155 
 
 "You ought to have been a preacher." He sent a 
 roguish glance at the girls, then, throwing an accent of 
 solicitude into his voice, added : " But aren't you afraid 
 you might get robbed going through those woods ? 
 There's quite a strip of them before you get to 
 Berger's." 
 
 The owner of the jewels sent an apprehensive glance 
 into the woods which skirted the brow of the hill and 
 answered bravely : " Yes, I be, Thomas. I be a little 
 afeared of it. I I won't go so far as to say I ain't. 
 But I don't b'lieve a body or' to stan' back on that 
 account when there's somethin' they feel as if they or' 
 to be doin', and I've always been took care of before 
 I've always been took care of." 
 
 The manliness of this ought to have shamed Tom 
 out of his waggishness, but he was not done with it 
 yet. " Solomon," he said, with the utmost gravity, 
 "I should think you'd want to get your property 
 into something besides jewellery. Then you wouldn't 
 run such risks. Besides, if you had it in the bank, 
 you know, it would be growing bigger all the time." 
 
 The little man's face wore a look of distress, and he 
 put his hand on his box protectingly. " They tell me 
 that sometimes," he said in a plaintive tone, " but I 
 I couldn't think of it. It wouldn't be half as much 
 comfort to me as 'tis this way. Besides, I'm rich
 
 1 56 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 enough now, and when a body's got enough, it's 
 enough, ain't it ? And why can't you settle down and 
 take the good of it ? " 
 
 " I think you're quite right, Mr. Ridgeway," said 
 Stella. " It's perfectly vulgar for people to go strain- 
 ing and scrambling after more money when they have 
 as much as they can enjoy already. The world would 
 be a good deal pleasanter place than it is if more peo- 
 ple felt as you do about that." 
 
 She punctuated this with reproving glances at Tom, 
 to which, however, he paid not the smallest attention. 
 
 " But you know, Solomon," he said artfully, " if 
 you only had your money where you could draw 
 on it, you wouldn't have to work as you do now. 
 They keep you trotting pretty lively at the farm, 
 don't they ? And I'll warrant Aunt Katharine finds 
 you chores enough when you're at her house." 
 
 The little man's face was clear again. Here, at 
 least, was a point on which he had no misgiving. 
 " Law, Thomas," he said, "I I like to keep busy. 
 Why, there ain't a bit o' sense in a body bein' all 
 puffed up and thinkin' he's too good to work like 
 other folks jest 'cause he's rich. 'Tain't your own 
 doings, being rich, leastways not all of it. It's 
 partly the way things happen, and then it's the 
 disposition you've got. That's the way I look at it.
 
 HUCKLEBERRYING. I 5 / 
 
 And it always 'peared to me," he added, with the 
 most touching simplicity, "that, when a body's rich 
 as I be, he or' to do a leetle more 'n common folks to 
 sort o' try 'n' pay up for it." 
 
 "Mr. Ridgeway," exclaimed Stella it was im- 
 possible after this to let that graceless brother say 
 another word " would you mind showing us some 
 of your pretty things right now ? My cousins never 
 saw them, and I'm sure they'd enjoy it ever so much." 
 
 The countenance of Solomon Ridgeway was aflame 
 with pleasure. He lowered his box from his shoulders 
 and unstrapped it with a childish eagerness. "Why, 
 I I'd be proud to, Miss Stella," he said, with a 
 hurrying rapture. Then, looking about for a suitable 
 place of exhibition, he added, " Jest come under that 
 big chestnut tree over there, and I'll spread 'em all 
 out so you can see "em." 
 
 It was not huckleberrying, but something much 
 more unique, which engaged them for the next half 
 hour. The collection which Solomon Ridgeway drew 
 from his box and spread before their dazzled eyes 
 was a marvel of tinsel and glitter. There were 
 brooches and rings and chains enough to have made 
 the fortune of half a dozen pedlers ; trumpery stuff, 
 most of it, but what of that ? 
 
 The owner was not one to let a carping world
 
 158 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 settle for him the value of his treasure. There was 
 paste that gleamed like diamonds in settings burnished 
 like the finest gold, and there were the colors of topaz 
 and emerald and sapphire and ruby. Who cared 
 whether they flashed in bits of glass or in stones 
 drawn from the mines ? They were things of beauty 
 for a' that, and they filled their owner's soul with 
 joy. He had gathered them slowly through the 
 savings of earlier years, and the gifts of friends ; he 
 loved them every one, and believed them to be of 
 fabulous value. 
 
 " They ain't all I've got, you know. There's a lot 
 more," he said repeatedly ; and then he rubbed his 
 hands together and smiled upon his audience with 
 the air of a Croesus demanding, " Do you know any 
 one richer than I ? " 
 
 It was impossible not to wish to give him pleasure, 
 and more than once the girls exclaimed over the 
 beauty of some trinket. Esther was especially warm 
 in her admiration, and there was no insincerity in her 
 words when she said : " I think you have some per- 
 fectly lovely things, Mr. Ridgeway. I don't wonder 
 you prize them, and I'm sure that little girl who is 
 sick will thank you all her life for letting her see 
 them." 
 
 He had almost forgotten his friend on the other
 
 HUCKLEBERRYING. 1 59 
 
 side of the hill. He gathered up his treasures now 
 with a sudden remembrance, lifted his box to his 
 shoulders again and was off, turning back again and 
 again to make his little bow, half of pomposity and 
 half of humility, as he hurried away. 
 
 "Is he crazy, or isn't he?" exclaimed Kate, when 
 he was fairly out of hearing. 
 
 "He's queer. That's all you can say," said Stella; 
 "but for my part, I don't mind him. People are so 
 much of a pattern here in America that I think it's 
 rather nice to have one of a different sort mixed in 
 now and then." 
 
 " I don't see how he can keep up his notion of 
 being rich and live in a poorhouse," said Kate. 
 
 " Don Quixote thought all the inns were castles," 
 said Stella. " I don't know why a person with an 
 imagination like his shouldn't take a poorhouse for a 
 first-class hotel." 
 
 Her interest in huckleberrying was gone now, and 
 the mood Tom had foretold was upon her. Esther 
 divined it as she saw her looking at the chestnut 
 tree, with her head tipped to one side. 
 
 " Oh, do sketch it, dear," she whispered. " Did 
 you really bring drawing materials with you?" 
 
 Stella laughed, and drew a pencil and small pad 
 from the bag that hung at her belt.
 
 I6O WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 " Fill my pail for me, and you shall have it for a 
 souvenir," she said. 
 
 The sketch was a pretty thing, and the pails, though 
 not all full, contained a goodly quantity of berries, 
 when they descended the hill in the late afternoon. 
 As they reached the bottom a sudden thought came 
 to Esther. " Do you suppose your mother would 
 care if I should take my berries round to Aunt Kath- 
 arine ? " she asked. 
 
 " My mother would be ready to give you a special 
 reward for thinking of it," said Stella. " But do you 
 really feel like going round by Aunt Katharine's ? 
 It's ever so far out of our way ! " 
 
 " Oh, I don't care for that," said Esther, and she 
 added quickly : " but please don't feel that you must 
 go too. I know the way." 
 
 Perhaps she was not really anxious that Stella 
 should accompany her, nor sorry that Kate was 
 already far ahead with Tom, when she turned down 
 the old road a few minutes later with her face toward 
 Aunt Katharine's. " I shall only stay a little while," 
 she called back. " You won't be home very long 
 before me." 
 
 But she was wrong as to this. Supper was over 
 and the sunset fading when she appeared at her 
 grandfather's.
 
 HUCKLEBERRYING. l6l 
 
 " She insisted on my staying, though I had no 
 thought of her asking me," she explained to Aunt 
 Elsie. "She was delighted with the huckleberries." 
 
 Sitting in the south doorway afterward with Stella, 
 she said very earnestly : " You never saw anybody 
 pleasanter than Aunt Katharine was all the time 
 I was there. I'm sure she's a great deal kinder 
 than you think she is. Do you know we got talking 
 of Solomon Ridgeway, and she told me some real 
 interesting things about him. She says he was mar- 
 ried when he was young, but his wife only lived a 
 few months. Evidently Aunt Katharine didn't think 
 much of her, for she said she was a silly little thing, 
 who cared more about finery than anything else. But 
 he was all bound up in her, and when she died it 
 almost killed him. He had a terrible sickness, and 
 when he got over it his mind had this queer kink in 
 it, and never came right afterward." She paused 
 a moment, then added, "Somehow I couldn't help 
 thinking that there might be a clew in that story to 
 the reason why she is so good to him." 
 
 " She's just as queer in her way as he is in his. I 
 guess it's an affinity of queerness," said Stella, care- 
 lessly. And then she called her cousin's attention 
 to the color of the clouds, which were fading in airy 
 fringes over Gray's Hill.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A PAIR OF CALLS. 
 
 AMONG the honors which came to Ruel Saxon 
 with advancing years there was probably none 
 which he valued more than his position, well recog- 
 nized in the community, as keeper of the best fund 
 of stories of the olden time, and referee-in-chief on 
 all debated points of local history. There were plenty 
 of old people in Esterly, some even who had reached 
 the patriarchal age in which he himself so gloried, 
 but there was no other with a memory like his, 
 none with so unique a gift for setting out the past 
 event in warmth and color. The gift was his own, 
 but the memory was in part at least that of some 
 who had gone before. 
 
 It had been the old man's fortune in his youth to 
 be the constant companion of a grandfather who, 
 like himself, was a local authority; a deaf man, who 
 relied much on the boy's clear voice and quick at- 
 tention for intercourse with his fellows. Perhaps the 
 service had been irksome sometimes to the boy, but 
 
 162
 
 A PAIR OF CALLS. 163 
 
 it had its reward for him now; for his grandfather's 
 experiences and his own blended in his thought as 
 one continuous whole, and covered a space of time 
 no other memory in the town could match. 
 
 The time was not yet when every rural village of 
 New England had its historical society, but the re- 
 covery of the past was becoming a fad in the cities, 
 and families who valued themselves on their standing 
 were waking up to the importance of making sure 
 of their ancestors. A letter from some gatherer of 
 ancient facts, making requisition on Ruel Saxon's 
 knowledge, was not uncommon now, and more than 
 once a caller had stopped at the farmhouse hoping 
 to gain help from him in tracing some obscure 
 branch of a family tree. 
 
 The person bent on such an errand was so com- 
 monly of serious and elderly aspect that the ex- 
 tremely stylish young man who rode into the yard 
 one afternoon was not suspected by the girls, who 
 saw him from the parlor, of belonging to this class. 
 Kate, who was nearest the window, was quite ex- 
 cited by the appearance of a gentleman on horse- 
 back. She had not seen one before since she left 
 home, and the horse itself was as interesting as the 
 rider. 
 
 " I'll wager anything that's a blooded Kentucky,"
 
 164 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 she said, craning her neck for a fuller view. " My, 
 but isn't she a beauty? I'll have a good look at 
 her if his highness gets down. Wouldn't I like to 
 call out, 'Light, and come in, stranger!'" she added 
 under her breath. " Stella, who is he ? He must be 
 some admirer of yours." 
 
 " Never saw him before," said Stella, who was 
 eying him with as much curiosity as Kate. " I'll 
 tell you what, he must be a connoisseur in art and 
 has heard of my Breton Peasant. Ha ! With that 
 horse and that riding costume I shall charge him a 
 hundred and fifty." 
 
 By this time the young man had reached the 
 hitching post and jumped down from the saddle. 
 He patted his horse's neck when he had adjusted the 
 hitching rein, flicked the dust from his riding boots 
 with his gold-handled whip, and proceeded toward 
 the door. 
 
 " You go, Kate," whispered Stella, who was draw- 
 ing Greenaway figures with pen and ink on a set of 
 table doilies, and Kate was not loath. 
 
 " Is Deacon Saxon at home ? " inquired the young 
 man in a pleasant voice. 
 
 " I think so. Will you come in ? " responded Kate. 
 
 " It isn't the Breton Peasant after all," murmured 
 Stella to Esther. " I wonder if it can be an an-
 
 A PAIR OF CALLS. l$ 
 
 cestor." She arranged the doilies with a quick artis- 
 tic touch, and rose as the young man entered the 
 room. 
 
 He had presented Kate with a small engraved 
 card, and though it was a new discovery for her 
 that gentlemen ever carried such things, she used it 
 as if to the manner born. 
 
 " Mr. Philip Hadley, Miss Saxon and Miss North- 
 more," she announced easily, and Stella added, with 
 a pretty bow, "And, Mr. Hadley, Miss Kate North- 
 more." 
 
 The young man looked bewildered. In search of 
 a country deacon of advanced years, at an old-fash- 
 ioned farmhouse, to be ushered into one of the most 
 attractive of parlors, with three charming young ladies 
 in possession, was enough to bewilder. But he rose 
 to the surprise gracefully in another moment. 
 
 " I must apologize for intruding myself in this way," 
 he said, " but I have heard that Deacon Saxon is quite 
 an authority on Esterly antiquities, and I wanted to 
 see him on a little matter of inquiry." 
 
 " He will be delighted to talk with you. You may 
 be sure of it," said Stella. 
 
 It was only a minute before the old gentleman ap- 
 peared, walking in his nimblest manner from his own 
 room, whither Kate had gone in search of him. She
 
 1 66 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 had put him in possession of his caller's name, and 
 he extended his hand with an air of welcome and curi- 
 osity combined. 
 
 " Hadley ? Did you say your name was Hadley ? 
 Well, I'm pleased to see you." 
 
 "I'm very pleased to see you, sir," said the young 
 man, bowing with a deference of manner which was 
 peculiarly pleasing. " I'm taking a liberty in calling 
 on you, I'm well aware of it, but it's the penalty one 
 pays for having a reputation like yours. People say 
 you know everything that ever happened in Esterly, and 
 as I'm looking up our family history a little, I thought 
 perhaps you could help me. I confess though," he 
 added with a smile, " I expected to see a much older 
 person." 
 
 " Older than eighty-eight ? " quoth Ruel Saxon. " I 
 was born in the year seventeen hundred and ninety- 
 one, and if I live till the twenty-first day of next June 
 I shall be eighty-nine." 
 
 He was too much pleased with the young man's 
 errand, and himself as the person appealed to, to 
 pause for a compliment at this point, and added 
 briskly, " I shall be glad to tell you anything I know. 
 'Tisn't many young men that go to the old men to 
 inquire about things that are past. They did in Bible 
 times. In fact, they were commanded to : ' Ask thy
 
 A PAIR OF CALLS. l6/ 
 
 father and he will show thee, thy elders and they will 
 tell thee.' That's what it says; but they don't do it 
 much nowadays." 
 
 " They have more books to go to now, you know, 
 grandfather," said Stella, glancing from the figure 
 she was drawing, a charming little maid in a sunbon- 
 net, and incidentally holding it up as she spoke. 
 
 " Yes, too many of "em," said her grandfather, rather 
 grimly. "They'd go to the old folks more if they 
 couldn't get the printed stuff so easy." 
 
 " But, grandfather," exclaimed Esther, " the young 
 people can't all go to the old people who know the 
 stories. Kate and I didn't have you, for instance, till 
 a few weeks ago." 
 
 Her grandfather's face relaxed, and Mr. Philip 
 Hadley looked amused. 
 
 " But Deacon Saxon is right," he said, turning to 
 the young ladies. " It's a much more delightful thing 
 to hear a story from one who has been a part of it, or 
 remembers those who were, than to get it from the 
 printed page. I fancy the spirit of a thing is much 
 better preserved by oral tradition than by cold print. 
 You remember Sir Walter attributed a good deal of 
 his enthusiasm for Scottish history to the tales of his 
 grandmother. I see you have a charming sketch of 
 Abbotsford," he added, glancing at a picture on the
 
 1 68 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 wall opposite, and from there with a questioning look 
 to Stella. 
 
 She gave a pleased nod. "We were sketching in 
 Scotland, a party of us, last summer," she said. 
 
 " Were you ? " exclaimed the young man. " I was 
 tramping on the Border myself." 
 
 Perhaps he would have liked to defer his consulta- 
 tion with the old gentleman long enough for a chat 
 with the young lady, but the former was impatient for 
 it now. He had been scrutinizing his caller's face for 
 the last few moments with sharp attention. 
 
 " You say your name is Hadley. Are you any re- 
 lation to the Hadley s that used to live in our town ? 
 There was quite a family of 'em here fifty years ago." 
 
 " I think I am," said the young man, smiling. " My 
 father was born in Esterly, but moved away before his 
 remembrance. Perhaps you knew my grandfather, 
 Moses Hadley." 
 
 " I knew of him," said the old gentleman, nodding ; 
 "but our family never had much to do with the Had- 
 leys, for they lived on the other side of town. They 
 were good respectable folks," he added in a ruminating 
 tone ; " didn't care any great about schooling, I guess, 
 but they were master hands for making money. I've 
 heard one of 'em made a great fortune somewhere out 
 West. He sent a handsome subscription to our soldiers' 
 monument."
 
 A PAIR OF CALLS. 169 
 
 The young man, who had flushed distinctly during 
 part of this speech, looked relieved at its conclusion. 
 " That must have been my Uncle Nathan," he said. 
 " My father went into business in Boston." Perhaps 
 it was by way of foot-note to the remark about his 
 ancestors' lack of zeal for learning that he added 
 carelessly: "I remember my cousin came to Esterly 
 once to see your monument. We were in Harvard 
 together at the time." 
 
 The remark was lost on the old gentleman. He 
 was pursuing his own train of recollection now. " I 
 knew your grandmother's folks better 'n I did your 
 grandfather's," he said. " Moses Hadley married 
 Mercy Bridgewood, and the Bridgewoods and our 
 folks neighbored a good deal." 
 
 " Did they ? " exclaimed the young man, with a 
 quick eagerness in his voice. " It was the Bridge- 
 wood line that I came to see you about. Did you 
 ever hear of Jabez Bridgewood?" 
 
 " Jabez Bridgewood ! " exclaimed Ruel Saxon. 
 " What, old Jabe that used to live on Cony Hill ? 
 Why, sartin, sartin ! He 'n' my grandfather were 
 great cronies. I've heard my mother say more 'n 
 once, when she saw him coming across the fields : 
 ' Girls, we may as well plan for an extra one to 
 supper. There's Jabe Bridgewood, and he 'n' your
 
 I7O WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 grandfather'll set an' talk till all's blue. There'll be 
 no getting rid of him.' ' 
 
 The young man colored again, and this time the 
 girls did too. But they might have spared their 
 blushes. The old gentleman was serenely unconscious 
 of having said anything to call them out, and was 
 pursuing his subject now under a full head of de- 
 lighted reminiscence. 
 
 " He was an uncommon bright man, old Jabez 
 Bridgewood ; sort o' crotchety and queer, but chuck 
 full of ideas, and ready to stand up for 'em agin 
 anybody. He was pretty quick-tempered, too, when 
 anybody riled him up. My grandfather's told me 
 more 'n once about a row he got into with Peleg 
 Wright ; and the beginning of it was right here 
 in this room. You see, Peleg was a regular Tory, 
 though he didn't let out fair 'n' square where he 
 stood ; and Jabez he was hot on the other side, right 
 from the start." 
 
 A gleam of amused recollection came into his eyes 
 as he added: "They used to tell about a contrivance 
 he had on the hill to pepper the British with, if they 
 should happen to come marching along his road. It 
 was a young sapling that he bent down and loaded 
 with stones and hitched a rope to, so he could jerk 
 it up and let fly at a moment's notice. They called
 
 A PAIR OF CALLS. 17! 
 
 it ' Bridgewood's Battery,' but I guess he never used 
 it. He was firing that old flint-lock gun of his in- 
 stead. He was one of the minute-men, you know. 
 
 " But about that fuss with Peleg Wright. I don' 
 know just what 'twas Peleg said. He was sitting 
 here talking with Jabe 'n' my grandfather, getting 
 hold of everything he could, I guess ; and he said 
 something about our duty to the king that stirred 
 Jabe up so that he just bent down and scooped up 
 a handful o' sand you know they had the floors 
 sanded in those days, instead of having carpets on 
 'em and flung it right square into Peleg's face." 
 
 "Shocking!" exclaimed Mr. Hadley, laughing. "Is 
 that the sort of manners my great-great-grandfather 
 had ? I'm ashamed of him." 
 
 "Well, there was a good many that thought he 
 hadn't or' to have done it," admitted the old gen- 
 tleman, " but I don't know. Peleg was a terrible 
 mean-spirited, deceiving sort of cretur. It came out 
 afterwards that 'twas he that put the British on the 
 track of some gunpowder our folks had stored up ; 
 and sometimes I've kind o' thought it served him 
 right. The Bible says, ' Bread of deceit is sweet to 
 a man, but afterwards his mouth shall be filled with 
 gravel,' and I don' know but your grandfather was 
 just fulfilling scripture when he gave it to him."
 
 1/2 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 " Do you suppose he thought of that verse when 
 he did it ? " said Mr. Hadley, laughing more heartily 
 than before. 
 
 " Mebbe he didn't," said the deacon ; " but there's 
 been plenty of scripture fulfilled without folks know- 
 ing it. Well, naturally it made Peleg pretty mad, 
 'specially when folks twitted him 'bout it ; and a day 
 or two afterward he pitched on Jabez down town, 
 and I guess it's more 'n likely one of 'em would have 
 got hurt if folks hadn't separated 'em. Jabez wrote 
 some verses about it afterward, and I remember my 
 grandfather telling me one of 'em was: 
 
 " < Old Tory Wright with me did fight, 
 
 Designing me to kill ; 
 But over me did not obtain 
 To gain his cursed will.' " 
 
 "So he was a poet, too!" exclaimed Mr. Hadley. 
 
 "Bless you, yes," said Ruel Saxon. "When he 
 warn't contriving something or other, he was always 
 making up verses. I've seen 'em scribbled with chalk 
 all over his house. It was a little house without any 
 paint on it, and when it got so full it wouldn't hold 
 any more he'd rub 'em out and put on some fresh 
 ones. Paper warn't as plenty in those days as it is 
 now, specially not with Jabez."
 
 A PAIR OF CALLS. 1/3 
 
 " Do you remember any more of his verses?" asked 
 Mr. Hadley, who was evidently a good deal im- 
 pressed with this ancestor of his, in spite of his lack 
 of that economic turn of mind which had so distin- 
 guished the other side of his house. 
 
 " I don' know as I do," said the old gentleman, 
 "though I guess I could think up some of 'em if I 
 tried. Oh, Jabez Bridgewood was a good deal of a 
 character. He could do anything he set his hand to, 
 and I never did see anybody that knew as much about 
 things outdoors as he did. He was like Solomon, 
 and spoke of the trees, 'from the cedar that is in 
 Lebanon to the hyssop that springeth out of the 
 wall ' ; and when it came to the beasts of the field, 
 and the fowls of the air, and the creeping things, it 
 seemed as if he knew 'em all, though some folks did 
 think he spent too much time watching 'em, for the 
 good of his family." 
 
 " Why, he must have been a real genius, a Thoreau 
 sort of man," exclaimed Esther, who had been listen- 
 ing with rapt attention, as she always did when her 
 grandfather told a story. " Grandpa, won't you show 
 me some day where his little house stood, and the 
 tree he loaded with stones to fire at the British ? " 
 
 "And please let me go, too," said Mr. Hadley, 
 glancing at the girl, and catching her quick respon-
 
 1/4 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 sive smile at her grandfather ; " I should like it 
 immensely." 
 
 " Why, to be sure, I should like it myself," said 
 Deacon Saxon, promptly ; " though there ain't anything 
 there now but dirt and rocks. And I'll take you 
 round by the old burying-ground and show you his 
 grave, and the grave of my great-grandfather, John 
 Saxon, that was killed by the Indians, if you want 
 me to." 
 
 . They had it settled in another minute, with Stella 
 in the plan too. Mr. Hadley was to call again in a 
 few days, and they were all to take the trip together. 
 And then the young man stayed a little longer, not 
 talking of his ancestors now, but of things more 
 modern ; of Scotland with Stella ; of her impressions 
 of New England with Esther; and with the old 
 gentleman of the summer home in a neighboring 
 town, which the Hadleys had lately purchased. It 
 seemed he had ridden over from there to-day. There 
 was no chance to talk with Kate of anything. She 
 had disappeared long ago. 
 
 " I'm afraid you'll think I've inherited the staying 
 qualities of my great-great-grandfather," he said, 
 rising at last. " Really, I don't wonder he found it 
 hard to get away from here." And then he bowed 
 himself out with renewed expressions of gratitude
 
 A PAIR OF CALLS. 1/5 
 
 for the information he had received, and of delight 
 in that trip that was coming. 
 
 " A most estimable young man," said Ruel Saxon, 
 when he had ridden away. 
 
 " I think he's the most agreeable young man I 
 ever saw," said Esther, warmly, and Stella added, 
 "Quite an fait ; but I mean to find out the next time 
 he comes whether he really knows anything about 
 art." 
 
 From Mr. Philip Hadley to Miss Katharine Saxon 
 was a far cry, but the latter had a genius for supply- 
 ing contrasts, and she furnished one at that moment 
 by appearing suddenly at the door. Aunt Elsie, who 
 had been picking raspberries in the garden, was with 
 her. 
 
 "Well, Katharine," exclaimed her brother, hasten- 
 ing to meet her, "'pears to me you're getting pretty 
 smart to come walking all the way from your house 
 this hot day." 
 
 " I always had the name of being smart, Ruel," 
 said the old lady, seating herself, and proceeding 
 with much vigor to use a feather fan made of a 
 partridge tail, which hung at her belt; "but I shouldn't 
 have taken the trouble to show it by walking up here 
 to-day if I hadn't had an errand. Mary 'Liza wants 
 to go home for a couple o' days her sister's going
 
 176 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 to get married and I s'pose I or' to have somebody 
 in the house with me. Not that I'm 'fraid of any- 
 thing," she added, "but I s'pose there'd be a terrible 
 to-do in the town if I should mind my own business 
 and die in my bed some night without putting any- 
 body to any trouble about it. So I thought, long 's 
 you've got so many folks up here just now, I'd see 
 if one of the girls was a mind to come down and stay 
 with me." 
 
 She had been facing her brother as she talked, but 
 she turned toward Esther with the last words. 
 
 The girl's face lighted with an instant pleasure. 
 " Let me come, Aunt Katharine," she said. " I should 
 like to, dearly." 
 
 There was a gleam of satisfaction in Aunt Katha- 
 rine's eyes. " I'd be much obleeged to you to do it," 
 she said promptly. 
 
 "But Aunt Katharine," exclaimed Aunt Elsie, "don't 
 you think you'd better come here and stay with us? 
 We should like to have you, and it's a long time since 
 you slept in your old room." 
 
 " I don't care anything particular about old rooms," 
 said Miss Saxon. " I'm beholden to you, Elsie ; but 
 I'd rather be in my own house, long 's I can have some- 
 body with me." 
 
 " I s'pose you've got Solomon Ridgeway there yet,"
 
 A PAIR OF CALLS. 177 
 
 observed her brother, maliciously. " You don't seem to 
 count much on him, but mebbe you're afraid of robbers, 
 with all his jewellery in the house." 
 
 She took no notice of the sarcasm. " Solomon's 
 been gone 'most a week," she said. "Took a notion 
 he wanted to be back at the farm again." 
 
 " So he's gone back to the poor'us, has he ? " said 
 the old gentleman. " Well, it's the place for him, poor 
 afflicted cretur ! " 
 
 She threw up her head with the quick impatient 
 motion. " Dreadful 'flicted, Ruel," she said. " He's a 
 leetle the happiest man I know." 
 
 "Hm," grunted her brother; "happy because he 
 hain't got sense enough to know his own situation. He 
 thinks he's rich, when all he's got wouldn't buy him a 
 week's victuals and a suit o' clothes." 
 
 Miss Saxon's eyes narrowed to the hawk-like expres- 
 sion which was common in her controversies with her 
 brother. " Oh, he's crazy, of course," she said, with an 
 inexpressible dryness in her voice ; " thinks he's rich 
 when he's poor! But you didn't call Squire Ethan 
 crazy when he had so much money he didn't know 
 what to do with it, and was so 'fraid he'd come to want 
 that he dassn't give a cent of it away, or let his own 
 folks have enough to live on." 
 
 " I ain't excusing Squire Ethan," said the deacon,
 
 1/8 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 bridling. " He made a god of his money, and he'll be 
 held responsible for it. But Solomon Ridgeway ain't 
 half witted. He's been crack-brained for the last forty 
 years, and you know it." 
 
 The coolness of her manner increased with his rising 
 heat. "Oh, Solomon's daft, Ruel," she said in her 
 politest manner. " We won't argy about that. A man 
 must be daft that takes his wife's death so hard it eeny 
 most kills him, and he stays single all the rest of his 
 life. A man that had full sense would be courting 
 some other woman inside a year." 
 
 The deacon's eyes kindled. "You talk like one of 
 the foolish women, Katharine," he said sharply. " A 
 man ain't compelled to stay single all the rest of his 
 days because the Lord's seen fit to take away his wife. 
 The Bible says it ain't good for man to be alone, and 
 'whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing.' ' 
 
 She laughed her thin mocking laugh. " And the 
 more he has of 'em the better, I s'pose! You don't 
 happen to remember, do you, any place where it says 
 she that finds a husband finds a good thing ? " 
 
 Apparently the exact verse was not at hand, but 
 Ruel Saxon was prepared without it. " There are 
 some things that folks with common sense are s'posed 
 to know without being told," he said tartly. 
 
 The words had come so fast from both sides that
 
 A PAIR OF CALLS. 179 
 
 even Aunt Elsie had not been able to interpose till this 
 moment. She seized the pause now with hurrying 
 eagerness. "Aunt Katharine," she said, "here you 
 are sitting all this time with your bonnet on. You 
 must take it off and stay to supper with us." 
 
 The old woman rose and untied the strings. 
 "Thank ye kindly, Elsie," she said; "I b'lieve I will."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A GLIMPSE FROM THE INSIDE. 
 
 IN the cool of the day Aunt Katharine and Esther 
 walked together across the fields to the little house 
 on the county road. The sunset was throbbing itself 
 out above the hills in a glory of crimson and gold, 
 and the girl's face seemed to have caught the shin- 
 ing as she moved tranquilly toward it. 
 
 In the doorway of the barn Tom and Kate watched 
 them go, and exchanged comments with their usual 
 frankness. It was their favorite place for discussion 
 that and the wood-pile and few were the sub- 
 jects of current interest which did not receive a toss- 
 ing back and forth at their hands when the day's 
 work was done. 
 
 "That's an uncommon queer thing for Aunt Kath- 
 arine to do," observed Tom. " When she's been left 
 alone before she's always got one of the Riley girls 
 to stay there and paid her for doing it. She must 
 have taken a shine to Esther. Maybe she thinks she 
 can work her round to some of her notions." 
 
 1 80
 
 A GLIMPSE FROM THE INSIDE. l8l 
 
 Kate shook her head. " Esther isn't her sort of 
 person at all," she said. " Aunt Katharine would take 
 somebody that's strong-minded like herself if she 
 wanted a follower in those things." 
 
 Tom flicked a kernel of corn at a swallow that 
 swooped down from a beam above his head, and 
 remarked carelessly, " Maybe strong-minded folks 
 had rather have those that ain't so strong-minded to 
 work on." 
 
 There was something in this that gave a passing 
 uneasiness to the look in Kate's black eyes. She 
 was silent a moment, then said with emphasis, "Well, 
 I'll risk Esther Northmore ; " and a minute later, oddly 
 enough, she was talking of Morton Elwell, and won- 
 dering what he found to do now that wheat harvest 
 and haying were over at home. 
 
 " If he's out of a job I wish he'd come round this 
 way," observed Tom. "We need another hand in 
 our meadow, and we'd set him to work right off." 
 
 "And supply him with a scythe to work with, I 
 suppose," said Kate, scornfully. " I imagine Mort 
 Elwell ! He rides a mowing machine when he cuts 
 grass." 
 
 "Well, he couldn't ride it in our meadow," retorted 
 Tom. " There isn't a Hoosier on top of the ground 
 that could do it. I don't care how smart he is."
 
 l82 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 (He had been tantalized at frequent intervals ever 
 since Kate's coming by accounts of Morton Elwell's 
 smartness.) " A scythe is the only thing that'll 
 work in a place like that." 
 
 " Out our way they wouldn't have such a place," 
 said Kate, loftily. " They'd put in tile and drain it, 
 if they were going to use the ground at all." 
 
 " A nice job they'd have of it," grunted Tom ; and 
 then he remarked incidentally : " I heard Esther tell 
 Stella the other day that our meadow was the pret- 
 tiest place she ever saw. They were sitting by the 
 brook, and she said it made her sick to think how 
 your creek at home looked, all so brown and muddy." 
 
 This was a manifest digression, but Tom had a 
 genius for that, and a quotation from Esther bearing 
 on the attractions of New England was a missile he 
 never failed to use, when it came to his hand in 
 discussion with Kate. She looked annoyed for a 
 minute. There was no denying that the creek at 
 home was a sorry-looking stream beside that beau- 
 tiful meadow brook, with its clear pebbly bottom. 
 But she recovered herself in another moment. 
 
 "Oh, your brook is pretty, of course," she said 
 graciously, "but it's all in the way you look at it. 
 For my part I don't mind having a good rich brown 
 in the color of ours. It shows that the land isn't
 
 A GLIMPSE FROM THE INSIDE. 183 
 
 all rocks; that there's something in it soft enough 
 to wash down." 
 
 Tom whistled. He was used to Kate now, and never 
 really expected to have the last word. Returning 
 to the subject of the hay-making, he remarked : 
 " Grandfather was down there for a while this after- 
 noon, to show us how fast we ought to work, I sup- 
 pose you ought to have seen him bring down the 
 swath but he couldn't keep it up very long, and 
 made an errand to the house ; a good thing he did, 
 too, or he'd have missed that call that tickled him 
 so. I say, that fellow must have been a regular 
 swell for all you girls to be so taken with him." 
 
 " Who said / was taken with him ? " demanded Kate. 
 " It was his horse I fell in love with." 
 
 " Well, the others were, if you weren't," persisted 
 Tom. " Esther seemed to think she never saw such 
 a young man." 
 
 "She's seen some that are a good deal nicer," said 
 Kate, with emphasis, and then she added rather irri- 
 tably : " I shouldn't think a fellow could have much 
 to do who spends his time running round to find out 
 what his great-great-grandfather did. For my part I 
 don't take much stock in that sort of thing." 
 
 And on this point they were in perfect agreement. 
 Tom, like Kate, had no great use for ancestors.
 
 184 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 Meanwhile the shadows lengthened, and the two 
 slow figures moving across the fields reached the end 
 of their walk. That the days to be spent with Aunt 
 Katharine would seem rather long, Esther fully ex- 
 pected. Yet she had wanted them. She had been 
 honest when she said to Stella at parting : " Don't 
 pity me. I really like it ! " and she wondered at the 
 incredulous look with which her cousin had regarded 
 her. With all there was of taste and artistic feeling 
 in common between these two, there was something 
 in Esther, something of seriousness and warmth, which 
 the other partly lacked. 
 
 Possibly the girl expected as Stella had warned 
 her that the old woman would at once mount the 
 hobby, which she was supposed to keep always sad- 
 dled and bridled, as soon as they were fairly in the 
 house together, but as a matter of fact, Aunt Katharine 
 did nothing of the kind. She talked, as they sat in 
 the twilight, of Esther herself, of her work at school, 
 and the things she enjoyed most in this summer visit, 
 and then of Esther's mother, recalling incidents of 
 her childhood, and speaking of her ways and traits 
 with an appreciation that filled the girl with surprise 
 and delight. 
 
 " Your mother might have done something out of 
 the common," she said as she ended. " She was made
 
 A GLIMPSE FROM THE INSIDE. 185 
 
 larger than most folks, and with all her soft ways, 
 she had more courage. She might have had a great 
 influence. I always said it." 
 
 " Mother has a good deal of influence now," said 
 Esther, smiling. " Father says there isn't a lady in 
 our town whose opinions count for as much as hers." 
 
 "Of course, of course," said the old woman, with a 
 note of impatience creeping into her voice ; " and the 
 upshot of it is that she makes old ways that are 
 wrong seem right, because she, with all her faculties, 
 manages to make the best of 'em. She might have 
 done better than that, if she'd seen." 
 
 And then she rose suddenly and lighted a lamp. 
 " I always have a chapter before I go to bed," she 
 said. " You might read it to-night." 
 
 Esther was surprised. She had somehow gained 
 the impression, in Aunt Katharine's talks with her 
 brother, that she held the scriptures rather lightly, 
 but apparently this was wrong. " What shall I read ? " 
 she asked, going to the stand on which lay the Bible, 
 a large and very old one. 
 
 " Read me that chapter about Judith," she said, 
 " how she delivered her people out of the hand of 
 Holofernes, and all the city stood up and blessed her." 
 
 Esther sat for a moment with a puzzled face, her 
 finger between the leaves of the book. " Is that in
 
 1 86 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 Judges ? " she asked, with a vague remembrance of a 
 prophetess who led Israel to battle. 
 
 The old woman lifted her eyebrows. " Oh, that is in 
 the Apocrypha," she said. "Well, if you don't know 
 about Judith you mustn't begin at the end of her story. 
 Read me about Deborah ; that's a good place." 
 
 There was no sweeter sleep under the stars that 
 night than came to Esther. She had thought with 
 some foreboding of a feather bed, but it was the best 
 of hair mattresses that Aunt Katharine provided. 
 Even the high-post bedstead, with draperies of an- 
 cient pattern, which she had really hoped for, was 
 wanting. There was nothing to prevent the air which 
 came through the wide east window, full of woodsy 
 odors and the droning of happy insects, from coming 
 straight to her pillow. 
 
 There was indeed nothing in the room to recall 
 the fashions of the past except the coverlet, wrought 
 in mazy figures tufted of crocheting cotton, and a 
 round silk pincushion mounted on a standard of 
 glass, which standard suggested former service as 
 part of a lamp. Aunt Katharine had as little care 
 to preserve the customs of her foremothers as their 
 ways of thinking. She had told the girl to rise when 
 she felt like it ; but in the early morning Esther found 
 herself wide awake, and the sound of stirring below 
 brought her quickly to her feet.
 
 A GLIMPSE FROM THE INSIDE. l8/ 
 
 Aunt Katharine was busy about the stove when 
 she entered the kitchen, and the sight of her niece 
 in her clean work-apron evidently pleased her. They 
 took a cup of tea with a fresh egg and a slice of 
 toast at the kitchen table, and Esther tried to recall 
 her dream of the night before for the entertainment 
 of the other. " It must have been reading about 
 Deborah that put it into my head," she said. " I 
 thought I was living all by myself in a house 
 that was under a great oak tree, and all sorts of peo- 
 ple were coming to me on all sorts of errands, and 
 finally I was going out with a great company of 
 them to battle, but I don't know what the battle was 
 about, or how it came out," she ended lightly. " I 
 think the dream must have broken off when I heard 
 you moving about down here." 
 
 " Dreams are queer things," said Aunt Katharine, 
 who had been listening with attention. 
 
 " Of course I don't believe in them," Esther made 
 haste to say, "but Aunt Milly always insisted that 
 the first dream you had when you slept in a strange 
 place meant something. I'm sure it meant something 
 to sleep in such a lovely room, and rest as sweetly 
 as I did," she added, with an affectionate smile at the 
 old lady. 
 
 Miss Katharine Saxon had long prided herself on
 
 1 88 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 a complete indifference to any blandishments of words 
 or manner on the part of her fellow-creatures. It 
 wasn't what people said, nor how they said it, but 
 the principles they lived up to, that constituted a 
 claim to her regard, as she often declared; but she 
 fell a victim as easily as scores had done before her 
 to the pretty tactful ways of Esther Northmore and 
 her gift for saying pleasant things. Not in years 
 had she been as warm, as open, and confiding as 
 during that visit. In the entertainment of her niece 
 she made no mistake. She let her help in the house- 
 work and watched with pleasure while she darned a 
 tablecloth. She was studying the girl, with genuine 
 liking to guide the study. 
 
 And Esther, for her part, was watching her Aunt 
 Katharine with growing regard and sympathy. It 
 was a surprise at first to note the solicitude with 
 which she inquired after the sick child of Patrick 
 Riley, the Irishman who carried on her farm, and 
 came night and morning to attend to her chores ; 
 and the girl was not prepared for the almost mater- 
 nal interest with which the old woman looked after 
 the dumb creatures on her place. 
 
 On the subject which she was known to have most 
 at heart the wrongs of her sex she said nothing 
 for a while, and Esther was too mindful of those old
 
 A GLIMPSE FROM THE INSIDE. 189 
 
 griefs in her life to provoke the theme. It came 
 casually, the second day, as they sat seeding rai- 
 sins in the kitchen. A boy had brought a pail of 
 berries to the door, but she refused them. An hour 
 later a girl came with a similar errand, and without 
 hesitating she made the purchase. 
 
 " I hope you didn't change your mind on my 
 account," said Esther, when the child was gone, 
 remembering apologetically something she had said in 
 the interval about her own liking for huckleberries. 
 "With all the fruit you have I'm sure we didn't need 
 them." 
 
 Miss Saxon smiled. "I didn't change my mind," 
 she said. " I thought some girl would be along, and 
 so I waited." 
 
 The boy's face had looked eager, and Esther felt 
 rather sorry for him. " Don't you suppose he needed 
 the money as much as she did ? " she asked rather 
 timidly. 
 
 " Mebbe he needed it more," said Aunt Katharine. 
 " The Billingses are worse off than the Esteys, but 
 that ain't the p'int. It's a good thing for a girl 
 to be earning money. It's worth something to her 
 to make a few cents, and know it's her own. That's 
 what the girls need more 'n anything else, and I 
 always help 'em every chance I get."
 
 IQO WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 Esther pondered for a minute without speaking. 
 The old woman's eyes had taken on a look of deep 
 seriousness. "That's the root of all the trouble," 
 she said almost fiercely, "this notion that the women 
 must be forever dependent on the men, and take 
 what's given 'em and be thankful, without trying to 
 do for themselves. I tell you it was never meant 
 that one half of the world should hang on the other 
 half, and look to 'em for the shelter over their heads, 
 and the food they eat, and the clothes they wear. 
 It degrades 'em both." 
 
 Esther stopped seeding raisins and looked at her 
 aunt in astonishment. An arraignment of the exist- 
 ing order of things such as she had not heard before 
 was suggested here. Perhaps the very blankness of 
 her expression appealed more than any protest to 
 the old woman. The defiance went out of her voice, 
 and it was almost a pleading tone in which she 
 went on : 
 
 " Don't you see what comes of it ? Don't you see ? 
 It makes the girls think they must get married so 's 
 to have a home and somebody to support 'em, and 
 then they plan 'n' contrive they V their mothers 
 with 'em how to catch a husband." She shut her 
 lips hard, as if her loathing of the thing were too 
 U;reat for utterance, then went on : " But small blame
 
 A GLIMPSE FROM THE INSIDE. IQI 
 
 to 'em, I . say, if that's the only thing a woman's fit 
 tor ; small blame to 'em if they won't let her choose 
 her work for herself and live by it, without calling 
 shame on her for doing it. It's a little better now 
 thank God and the women that have been brave 
 enough to go ahead in the face of it! but I've 
 seen the day when an old maid was looked on as 
 something almost out of nature. ' Let a girl dance 
 in the pig's trough,' if her younger sister gets mar- 
 ried before her. Let her own she's disgraced, and be 
 done with it. That's the old saying, and the spirit 
 of it ain't all dead yet. It never will be till women 
 are as free as men to do whatever thing is in 'em to 
 do, and make the most of it." 
 
 Her face had grown white as she talked, and the 
 color had paled a little even in Esther's. " Oh," she 
 said, " I've thought of that, too. I've hated it when 
 people talked as if there was nothing for girls but 
 to get married." The color came back with a quick 
 flush as she added : " I'd rather die than be schem- 
 ing about that myself ; but what can you do ? Boys 
 always talk about the work they mean to follow. 
 People would think there was something wrong with 
 them, if they didn't ; but if girls say anything I 
 did try once to talk about what I could do to earn 
 my own living, but father acted as if I was somehow
 
 IQ2 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 reflecting on him, and mother though I'm sure she 
 understood me better seemed worried and troubled." 
 
 "That's it, that's it!" said Aunt Katharine, bitterly. 
 " Even those that say a woman's got a right to choose, 
 say under their breath that she'll never be happy if 
 it's anything but getting married. I tell you it's rind- 
 ing your own work and doing it that makes people 
 happy, and that's a law for women as much as men." 
 
 " But if you knew your work ! " said Esther, pite- 
 ously. " It seems to me there are very few girls who 
 have anything special they can do." 
 
 "That's no more true of girls than 'tis of boys," 
 said Aunt Katharine. "We should find something 
 for one as well as for the other, something they could 
 work at, if we settled it once for all that they had 
 the same right and need. But we've got to start 
 with that idea right from the beginning." 
 
 After that, during the time which remained of the 
 visit, the talk came often into the circle of this 
 thought. Sometimes Miss Saxon talked of the wrongs 
 of women, of their inequality before the law, and of 
 the tyranny of men, with a bitterness before which 
 the girl shrank, but the very vehemence of the 
 other's belief carried her with it, and through it all 
 one thing grew more and more clear to her. It was 
 not hatred of men, but love of her own sex, which lay
 
 A GLIMPSE FROM THE INSIDE. 1 03 
 
 at the bottom of Katharine Saxon's defiance of the 
 social order. The longing to help women, to lift 
 them into what seemed to her a larger, freer living, 
 had laid hold of her wholly, and held her in the white 
 heat of its consuming passion. 
 
 Once, when she had been speaking of the struggle 
 which lay before any woman confronted with the 
 problem of supporting a family, Esther said softly : 
 " Grandpa told me about you one night, Aunt Kath- 
 arine ; how you gave up everything and worked so 
 hard to help your sister when she came home with 
 her children. I thought that was grand." 
 
 The old woman did not speak for a moment, then 
 she said, with a singular lack of emotion in her voice : 
 " Poor Nancy ! Yes, I thought then 'twas my duty 
 to do what I did, and mebbe 'twas ; but sometimes 
 I've thought Nancy and her girls were only a han'- 
 ful out of the many sometimes I've thought mebbe 
 I might have done more good if I'd been fighting 
 for 'em all. I gave the best fifteen years of my life 
 to that old spinning-wheel, and scarcely looked out 
 of my corner." And then the lines of her face stif- 
 fened as she added : " But I had my reward. I was 
 saved from marrying marrying Levi Dodge." 
 
 The scorn in her voice as she said the last words 
 was indescribable. For a while neither of them
 
 194 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 spoke. Then Esther said, leaning toward the other, 
 her heart in her eyes, and her breath coming quick, 
 " Aunt Katharine, wouldn't you have women marry 
 at all?" 
 
 She threw up her head with the quick, impatient 
 movement which Esther had come to know so well. 
 "They might all marry and welcome," she said, 
 "it's the Lord's way to preserve the race, if only 
 we could get rid of the notions that folks have joined 
 onto it to spoil it." 
 
 And then the note that was not of defiance, but 
 pleading, came back to her voice, as she added : " But 
 I'd have some of the women that see stay free from 
 it till we've worked this thing out, and made a fair 
 chance for those that come after us ; I'd have 'em 
 show that the world has some interests for women 
 outside of their own homes, and some work they can 
 do besides waiting on their husbands and children ; 
 I'd have 'em show that a woman ain't afraid nor 
 ashamed to walk without leaning; and I'd have 'em 
 keep their eyes open to see what's going on. I'd 
 have 'em hold themselves clear of the danger of 
 being blinded even by love to the things that need 
 doing." 
 
 No doubt there was much that was wholly vague 
 to Esther Northmore in the vision of service which
 
 A GLIMPSE FROM THE INSIDE. 1 95 
 
 lay before the mind of Katharine Saxon. But the 
 thought of some renunciation for the sake of others 
 some work, unselfish and lasting what generous 
 young soul has not at moments felt the thrill of it? 
 Their eyes met in a glow of sympathy, if not of full 
 understanding, and the clock ticked solemnly in a 
 stillness which, for a minute, neither of them could 
 break. 
 
 It was a light step at the open door which suddenly 
 drew their attention. Kate was coming briskly up 
 the walk with a letter in her hand. 
 
 " It's from home," she said, as Esther rose to meet 
 her, "and I thought you ought to have it" 
 
 She noticed the look of exaltation on her sister's 
 face, and something she had never seen before in 
 Aunt Katharine's. Her efforts at conversation met 
 with little response. She was conscious of some at- 
 mosphere surrounding these two which she herself 
 could not penetrate, and she was glad to slip away 
 at the end of a very short call. 
 
 "They must have been talking about something 
 awfully serious," she said to Tom afterward. "They 
 looked as solemn as a pair of owls. I hope that 
 girl of Aunt Katharine's will come home when she 
 said she would. For my part, I think Esther's stayed 
 there long enough."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 SOME BITS OF POETRY. 
 
 AUNT KATHARINE'S maid of all work did not 
 outstay her leave of absence, and at evening of 
 the third day Esther came home to her grandfather's. 
 She insisted that she had had a good time, and strongly 
 resented being regarded as a martyr who had sacrificed 
 herself to a painful cause. 
 
 "Why, Aunt Katharine made it delightful for me," 
 she said, " and I liked her better and better all the time 
 I stayed." 
 
 " I hope she didn't win you over to all her notions, 
 especially that prejudice against getting married," said 
 Stella, with a laugh. 
 
 " She certainly didn't argue me out of the belief that 
 life might be worth living if one happened to stay 
 single," returned Esther, and though she said it lightly, 
 the look in her eyes was sober. 
 
 But they did not talk long of Aunt Katharine. 
 There was something of livelier interest to be dis- 
 cussed now. It had been the plan from the first that 
 
 196
 
 SOME BITS OF POETRY. 1 97 
 
 
 
 sometime during the summer they should visit Boston 
 with Stella. The summer was wearing away, and it 
 was time for the plan to mature. Moreover, a letter 
 had come from a cousin, who had a cottage for the 
 season at Nahant, inviting them all to spend a week 
 with her there. 
 
 Kate was in raptures, and Stella was mapping out 
 a fortnight's touring which should include a circuit of 
 pleasures, Boston and the seashore, with Concord and 
 Cambridge, and perhaps Old Plymouth, thrown in. 
 It was all delightful to think of. For the next few 
 days their minds were full of it, and in the midst came 
 that pleasant trip which had been planned with Mr. 
 Philip Hadley. 
 
 He was punctual to his engagement, and appeared 
 early on the appointed afternoon. But he was not 
 on horseback now. He was in a stylish top buggy, 
 behind a pair of high-stepping bays. Ruel Saxon had 
 planned to take the two girls with him in the family 
 carriage Kate had other plans for the afternoon 
 but Mr. Hadley's buggy changed all that. 
 
 " If one of the young ladies will ride with me I shall 
 be delighted," he said, glancing with a smile at Esther, 
 who happened to be the only one of them in the room 
 at the moment. 
 
 She returned the smile, then turning to her grand-
 
 IQ8 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 father, settled the arrangement in just the right way. 
 "Grandfather," she said, "we must let Stella go with 
 Mr. Hadley. That will be nice for them both, and 
 then you and I will go together. I don't want to be 
 selfish, but I shan't be here much longer, you know, 
 and must make the most of my chances for riding 
 with you." 
 
 The old gentleman looked gratified, and Mr. Hadley 
 smiled again. As for Stella, there was no doubt of her 
 satisfaction with the arrangement when she came in 
 a minute later. She was looking exceedingly stylish 
 in a pale green dress, with hat and parasol to match, 
 and quite the figure to sit with Mr. Hadley behind 
 those handsome bays. 
 
 It was a perfect afternoon, and a light rain the night 
 before had laid the dust in the country roads. It was 
 the least frequented of them all, a track which was 
 hardly more than a cart-path which led by the old 
 Bridgewood place, and they tied their horses to a 
 rail fence and climbed on foot to the top of the sharp 
 knoll on which the house once had stood. There was 
 no trace of it now. The walls on which their eccentric 
 owner had once hung his verses in the wind had long 
 ago dropped away, and the very stones of its founda- 
 tion had been removed out of their place. 
 
 Even the tree which had been part of his " battery "
 
 SOME BITS OF POETRY. 199 
 
 if indeed it survived the experience could not be 
 distinguished now in the thick grove of maple and 
 chestnut and birch which covered the place. Only 
 the view from the hilltop remained unchanged, and 
 this, as Stella declared, sitting breathless at the end 
 of the climb, justified the owner's choice of a dwelling- 
 spot, and must have inspired his muse. 
 
 From there to the old bury ing-ground was by a 
 winding way, for Ruel Saxon was in historic mood, 
 and guided his party past the lake haunted by the 
 memory of conjuring Jane, who had been drowned 
 there as a witch long, long ago; past the meadow 
 where a little party of the early settlers, busy with 
 making hay one summer afternoon, had fallen victims 
 to the tomahawks of the Indians ; and past the rock 
 where Whitefield, shut out from the churches, had 
 preached one Sabbath day to a crowd of spell-bound 
 and weeping people. 
 
 Sometimes he drew Dobbin to the side of the road, 
 and giving the buggy space beside him, paused while he 
 set out the event which the scene called up with vivid 
 description and trenchant comment. He was no mean 
 chaperon in guiding others over the track of the past, 
 and this afternoon he was at his best. 
 
 The old burying-ground lay on the edge of a pine 
 wood, on the outskirts of the village. It was more
 
 2OO WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 than half a century since the sod had been disturbed, 
 and grass and daisies possessed the paths which once 
 lay plain between mounds which years had smoothed 
 to almost the common level. There had been no en- 
 croachment of a growing town upon its borders to 
 break its quiet with the noise and hurry of a strenuous 
 life. It lay, an utter quietness, in the beauty of the 
 summer afternoon, a spot in which it was impossible 
 not to feel that a great peace must have infolded 
 those whose bodies had mouldered to dust in its 
 tranquil keeping. 
 
 Yet perhaps Esther was the only one of the little 
 company who felt the pensive influence of the place, 
 and she had never stood before in an old New Eng- 
 land burying-ground. Even she did not keep it long, 
 for Ruel Saxon was full of a bustling eagerness to find 
 the graves they had come to seek, and the quaintness 
 of the mortuary devices and inscriptions on the low 
 gray stones soon claimed her whole attention. 
 
 " Your great-great-grandfather made up a good 
 many of these epitaphs," observed the old gentleman 
 to Mr. Hadley. " He was a wonderful hand for that. 
 Folks were always going to him when their relations 
 died those that wanted anything except verses of 
 scripture under the names. Here's his own grave 
 now ! " he exclaimed, pausing in his rapid searching,
 
 SOME BITS OF POETRY. 2OI 
 
 and not a little pleased with himself that he had 
 so quickly found a spot which he had not seen in 
 many years : 
 
 " ' Sacred to the memory of 
 
 JABEZ BRIDGEWOOD. 
 
 Born Aug. i, 1735 died Nov. 12, 1810.' 
 
 "That's his stone, and no mistake." 
 
 Mr. Hadley was bending over it now. Below the 
 inscription which the old man had read were four lines 
 which the creeping moss had almost obliterated. He 
 took a knife from his pocket and scraped a few 
 words. 
 
 " Ah," he said, lifting his head, " there is evidently 
 one he didn't write : 
 
 " ( Oh Friends, seek not his merits to disclose, 
 Nor draw his frailties from their dread abode, 
 (There they alike in trembling hope repose) 
 The bosom of his Father and his God.' " 
 
 " No," said Ruel Saxon, who did not recognize the 
 slightly changed familiar lines, " he didn't write that. 
 But he picked it out, and left word in writing to have 
 it put on his stone. I remember hearing my grand- 
 father talk about it. Some folks thought 'twas queer 
 he didn't write his own epitaph. It always tickled 
 him so when he got a chance to do it for other 
 folks."
 
 2O2 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 "Poor man," said Mr. Hadley, with a smile, "it was 
 probably his only chance of publication. Think what 
 that must have meant to him ! But I'm glad he 
 recognized a superior poet. It's a mark of great- 
 ness." 
 
 They separated a little now, moving about among 
 the headstones, and reading, as they could, the old 
 inscriptions. Some of them were provocative of an 
 amusement which must have its way even in this 
 hallowed spot. 
 
 There was one which ran : 
 
 " Here lies, cut down like unripe fruit, 
 Ye fon of Mr. Jonas Boot, 
 And Mrs. Jemima Boot his wife named Jonathan." 
 
 " I rather hope my ancestor didn't write that," said 
 Mr. Hadley. Then, noting the date of the said Jona- 
 than's death, 1748, he added, with a shake of his head, 
 " But he might ; it's possible, if his poetic genius 
 blossomed early." 
 
 There was another close by which Stella was read- 
 ing now. It was inscribed to a girl of sixteen : 
 
 " Too good for earth, God in His love, 
 Took her to dwell with saints above." 
 
 " Poor little thing ! " she said, under her breath. " I 
 wonder if she liked living with the saints half as well
 
 SOME BITS OF POETRY. 2O3 
 
 as with her own girl friends. It's to be hoped that 
 she found some there." 
 
 There was dignity in one over which Esther was 
 bending now : 
 
 " Let not ye dead forgotten lye, 
 Left men forget that they muft die ; " 
 
 and a touch of real tenderness was in the one which 
 stood beside it under the name of a little child : 
 
 " She faltered by the wayside, 
 And the angels took her home." 
 
 But this, which came next, was not so felicitous: 
 
 "God took him to His Heavenly home, 
 No more this weary world to roam." 
 
 This, to a babe of six months, certainly indicated a 
 paucity of rhymes on the part of the composer, and 
 Mr. Hadley pointed in triumph to a year marked on 
 the little gray slab which plainly antedated his 
 ancestor. 
 
 But the stone which by the consent of all was 
 pronounced the most unique was inscribed to Keziah, 
 a "beloved wife who put on immortality" at the age 
 of thirty-five. Below the name and date was carved 
 an emblem suggestive of a chrysalis, with the words, 
 " Keziah as she was ; " and under this appeared the
 
 2O4 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 head of a cherub, with the wings of a butterfly 
 sprouting from its swollen cheeks, and the words, 
 " Keziah as she is." 
 
 Stella hovered around this for some time in con- 
 vulsed admiration. " I'm so glad there were artists 
 as well as poets in those days," she said ; and then 
 she added, with a levity she could not repress, " it 
 reminds one for all the world of the advertisements, 
 ' Before and after taking.' " 
 
 There was another erected to the memory of a wife 
 which called forth almost as much admiration. The 
 virtues of the deceased were set forth with unusual 
 fulness, and the record of her long services to society, 
 the church, and her family, ended with the words, 
 " She lived with her husband sixty years, and died in 
 the hope of a better life." 
 
 Even Deacon Saxon chuckled over this, and then 
 added, " I don't b'lieve my sister Katharine ever 
 heard of that, or she'd have thrown it up to me before 
 this." 
 
 It was queer what oddities of thought and expres- 
 sion had got themselves cut in some of these stones, 
 and there were commonplaces which occurred over 
 and over : 
 
 " Friends nor physicians could not save 
 This loving "
 
 SOME BITS OF POETRY. 2O5 
 
 Was father, mother, husband, the needed title ? 
 Alas, all were easily supplied, and then followed the 
 inevitable "from the grave." 
 
 There was one with a harsh creditor accent, before 
 which light-hearted readers could hardly help shrink- 
 ing a little : 
 
 " Death is a debt to Nature due, 
 I've paid it now, and so must you." 
 
 But there was another, carved more than once, 
 which might well cause a deeper shudder. It ran : 
 
 " Beneath this stone Death's prisoner lies, 
 Ye stone shall move, ye prisoner rise, 
 When Jesus, with Almighty word, 
 Calls his dead Saints to meet their Lord." 
 
 " Dreadful theology, don't you think?" Mr. Hadley 
 said, turning with a little shiver to the girls, and their 
 grandfather added his assent to theirs with emphasis. 
 " Yes, Jesus hasn't got any dead- saints. They or' to 
 have remembered what He said Himself, that God is 
 not the God of the dead, but of the living." 
 
 But by far the greater number of these ancient 
 headstones were marked with texts of scripture, and 
 however mirth might be provoked by sentiment or 
 phrase from other sources, the simple dignity of the 
 book of books always brought back seriousness and
 
 2O6 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 reminded on what word the hearts of men had leaned, 
 through the long generations, to endure the old, old 
 sorrow of death. The faith of the fathers, not their 
 fashions, was the thought which one must bear away 
 in the end from such a spot. 
 
 They had paused longest by the graves of Ruel 
 Saxon's people, and again as they left the place he 
 lingered for a moment by the low gray line of stones. 
 "They were God-fearing men and women, all of 
 them," he said, with tender reverence in his voice ; 
 then, lifting his face, he added, with inexpressible 
 pride and solemnity : 
 
 " My boast is not that I deduce my birth 
 From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth, 
 But higher far my proud pretensions rise 
 The son of parents passed into the skies." 
 
 That was the last word spoken before they let down 
 the bars in the old stone wall and made their way 
 back to their horses. Possibly the young man, who 
 was so anxious to establish his family record, may have 
 caught, at that moment, a new thought of ancestral 
 honors. 
 
 It had been a full afternoon, and it was a late one 
 when they reached the farmhouse. Mr. Hadley would 
 have mounted to his buggy at once after helping Stella 
 down, but the deacon interposed.
 
 SOME BITS OF POETRY. 2O/ 
 
 "Why, it's high time for supper," he said, "and you 
 mustn't drive back to Hartridge without having a bite 
 to eat, you or your horses either." 
 
 "Of course not," said Stella, cordially. "We count 
 on your staying to supper." And then she added 
 archly, " I really think you ought, for the sake of your 
 great-great-grandfather." 
 
 "Whom your great-great-grandmother could never 
 get rid of?" he replied, laughing. "I'm not sure but 
 on his account I ought to go, to convince you that his 
 descendants at least can turn their backs on pleasure." 
 
 But he did not insist on doing it, and it is extremely 
 doubtful whether Jabez Bridgewood ever enjoyed a 
 meal under the old roof more than Philip Hadley en- 
 joyed the one that followed. The fact was, both Stella 
 and her mother had foreseen that the delays and di- 
 gressions of the old gentleman in showing his party 
 around would consume the afternoon, and bring the 
 young man back at about this time. They had con- 
 ferred carefully as to the setting of the table in the best 
 old-fashioned china, with a pretty mingling of Stella's 
 hand-painted pieces; the menu had been settled to a 
 nicety in advance, and the delicate French salad, which 
 Mr. Hadley pronounced the best he had ever tasted, 
 had been compounded by Stella herself before leaving 
 the house.
 
 2O8 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 Tom and Kate, who were just in from a tramp to 
 a distant pasture, had their places with the others. 
 Tom had objected at first to sitting down with "the 
 nabob," as he called their guest, but Kate's persua- 
 sions and his own curiosity finally overcame him. 
 
 The meal was a social one. The girls talked of their 
 intended outing, and Mr. Hadley, who was much inter- 
 ested, made some capital suggestions. 
 
 Then a question or two drew him out in regard to 
 his own summer, and he talked quite charmingly of a 
 yachting trip in July. There was a plan for the White 
 Mountains early in September. He had succeeded 
 better than usual in killing time this summer, he said ; 
 to which he added gracefully, that he believed no other 
 day of it had been as pleasant as this which was just 
 ending. 
 
 This brought them back to the excursion of the 
 afternoon, and Esther in particular grew quite eloquent 
 over the delights of it. 
 
 "That's what it is to live in an old country," she said 
 wistfully. " You feel as if you belonged to the past as 
 well as the present when you stand in the places where 
 the things you've read of really happened. I think 
 it's beautiful to have historic associations." 
 
 There was an approving murmur over this sentiment, 
 but Kate did not join in it. There was no mistaking
 
 SOME BITS OF POETRY. 2(X) 
 
 its implied suggestion of a point in which New England 
 had the advantage over her native state. She might 
 possibly have let it pass if Tom had not had the indis- 
 cretion at that moment to press her foot under the 
 table. Up to this point her part in the conversation 
 had been mostly questions, but now she advanced an 
 opinion boldly. 
 
 " Well, I must say I never wanted to live in an old 
 country on that account," she said. " I remember when 
 mother used to read Child's History of England to 
 us, I was always glad that our country began later, and 
 that we didn't have those cruel times, when people 
 were beheaded for nothing, and princes' eyes put out 
 by their wicked uncles, in our history at all. Those 
 things you've been hearing about this afternoon 
 there wasn't anything very beautiful about some of 
 them. That poor old thing they drowned I don't 
 suppose she was any more a witch than I am. And 
 that rock where Whitefield preached it was a mean 
 bigoted thing to keep him out of the churches, and I 
 should think good people would be ashamed every time 
 they looked at the rock." 
 
 There was silence for a minute when she ended. 
 Then Mr. Hadley said, with a smile, " In other words, 
 if you have historic associations at all, you want those 
 of the very best sort." To which he added, lifting his
 
 2IO WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 eyebrows a trifle, " I presume you wouldn't object to 
 Bunker Hill and Lexington ! " 
 
 Kate took a swallow of water before .speaking. 
 Then she said with dignity : "I have never regarded 
 Bunker Hill and Lexington as local affairs. I think 
 they belong to the whole country ! " 
 
 Mr. Hadley made her a bow across the table. 
 " Capital ! " he said. " I surrender." 
 
 "If you knew how my cousin Kate stands up for 
 everything connected with her own part of the coun- 
 try, you'd surrender in advance any attempt to im- 
 press her with the beauties of ours," said Stella, 
 laughing. " Talk of loyalty to one's home ! " 
 
 "Well, you certainly have a remarkably fine section 
 of country out your way," said Mr. Hadley, graciously. 
 " My father was there buying grain one summer, and 
 I remember he came back perfectly enthusiastic over 
 everything except the ague, which he brought home 
 with him, and had hard work to get rid of. I sup- 
 pose you'll admit that you do have some chills and 
 fever lying round in your low lands." 
 
 "Oh, people have to have something," said Kate, 
 carelessly "but ague isn't the worst thing that ever 
 was. People very seldom die of it, and it's really the 
 most interesting disease in the world. I could give 
 you a list as long as my arm of the ingenious ways
 
 SOME BITS OF POETRY. 211 
 
 country people have of curing Tt ; and some of them 
 are perfectly fascinating, they're so queer. You ought 
 to hear my father talk about ague." 
 
 There was an explosion of laughter at this. 
 " Kate," cried Stella, " you're as bad as the old 
 woman who was challenged to find a good quality 
 in his Satanic majesty, and immediately said there 
 was nothing like his perseverance. But really, if one 
 must discuss chills and fever, don't you think they're 
 a little, just a little plebeian ? " 
 
 "Oh," said Kate, "anything's plebeian if you've 
 a mind to call it so that keeps people moping and 
 ailing. But there are lots of things more ' ornary ' 
 than chills. It was when they were all coming down 
 with them, don't you know, that Mark Tapley found 
 the first chance he ever had to be 'jolly' when 'twas 
 really a credit to him ! " 
 
 The laughter took a note of applause now from 
 Mr. Hadley. " Miss Saxon," he exclaimed, turning to 
 Stella, " don't let's press her any further ; she's posi- 
 tively making a classic of the ague. If she says 
 much more, we shall all be wanting to go out there 
 for the express purpose of getting it." 
 
 " But ten chances to one you wouldn't get it, if 
 you did," said Kate. " As a matter of fact, we don't 
 have much of it nowadays. It was part of the
 
 212 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 newness of the country, and draining the land has 
 carried most of it off." 
 
 There was nothing to be said to this. She was in 
 possession of the field at both ends, and they re- 
 treated from the subject with a last volley of laughter. 
 
 After supper Tom told Kate confidentially that she 
 had " done 'em up in good style. Though I'll war- 
 rant," he added severely, "that you'd brag as much 
 as anybody if you had some of the old places we 
 have out your way." And then he observed that the 
 nabob wasn't half bad. He didn't know as 'twas 
 strange that the girls had taken such a fancy to him. 
 
 As it happened, Esther was thinking of him at that 
 very moment. She had just finished reading a letter 
 from Morton Elwell, a letter written, as he hap- 
 pened to mention, before five one morning of a day 
 that was to be full of work. How well she knew 
 that it was one of many days that followed each 
 other without break or pause save for the Sabbath's 
 rest ! And then she thought of Mr. Philip Hadley 
 with his summer devices for "killing time." She 
 wondered why life should be so easy for some, so 
 strenuous for others ; and, for the first time, she 
 thought of it with a sort of resentment that Morton 
 Elwell should work so hard and have no summer 
 pleasuring.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 AN OUTING AND AN INVITATION. 
 
 THE next week came that never-to-be-forgotten 
 outing which gave the Northmore girls their first 
 glimpse of Boston, and their first acquaintance with the 
 sea. Till the morning they started there was no talk 
 of anything else. Stella, who knew better than her 
 cousins what occasion might demand of dress in a styl- 
 ish watering-place, bent all her artistic skill to the 
 revising of garments, and even Kate and Esther, whose 
 wardrobes were mostly new, found some chance for 
 retouchings, some need of new laces and ribbons. 
 
 For the first time since their coming, their grand- 
 father really felt himself a little neglected. Occasion- 
 ally, as he passed through the room where the three 
 girls sat busy with sewing and the eager discussion of 
 styles and colors, he murmured solemnly, " Vanity of 
 vanities, all is vanity ;" and he not only prayed feelingly 
 at family devotions that the young of his household 
 might learn to adorn themselves with "the ornament 
 of a meek and quiet spirit," but he selected once for 
 
 213
 
 214 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 his morning reading a chapter in which warnings were 
 prjonounced against those who set their hearts on 
 " changeable suits of apparel, and mantles, and wim- 
 ples, and crisping-pins." However, he was as anxious 
 as any one that his granddaughters should enjoy them- 
 selves, and his good-will toward this particular excursion 
 was sufficiently indicated by the trifle which he quietly 
 added to the pin-money of each when they started off. 
 
 It does not concern our story, and would take too 
 long to tell all the sights and happenings of the days 
 that followed. Never did two more interested or more 
 appreciative girls than Kate and Esther Northmore 
 walk about the streets of Boston, or take in the mean- 
 ings and memories which it held in its keeping, and in 
 its dear vicinity. 
 
 At Cambridge, as they walked about the grounds of 
 Harvard, whom should they meet but Mr. Philip H ad- 
 ley ? A remarkable coincidence it seemed at the time, 
 though Kate remembered later that Stella had set out 
 with tolerable distinctness the time when they expected 
 to be there, with other details of the Boston visit, that 
 night at the farm. 
 
 After that, he had part in all their excursions, and a 
 charming addition he made to the party. Stella was 
 a good chaperon, but he was even better, for he had 
 the entree of a dozen places which they could not have
 
 AN OUTING AND AN INVITATION. 21 5 
 
 entered without him, and whether it was acquaintance, 
 or a liberal use of money, never were more gracious 
 attentions bestowed on a party of sight-seers. He was 
 really a delightful companion ; a good talker, a good 
 listener, and so perfectly at leisure that he was ready 
 to act on the slightest hint of anything that interested 
 the others. 
 
 It was a suggestion of Stella's, and a lucky one, as 
 she congratulated herself, which led to the most unex- 
 pected incident of the whole visit. They had been 
 talking, she and Mr. Hadley, of Copleys, as they 
 walked through the Boston art gallery, and he had 
 mentioned suddenly that there was one in his own 
 home ; after which came the quick invitation to make 
 a visit that afternoon to the house on Beacon Street. 
 
 The others accepted with no special emotion, but 
 Stella was radiant, and, Bostonian as she called her- 
 self, it was she who felt most curiosity when they stood, 
 a few hours later, before the door which bore the name 
 of Hadley, in the long row of brown stone fronts. The 
 house was closed for the summer, and Mr. Hadley had 
 made no attempt to open any rooms except the library, 
 but this ! It occupied all one side of the long hall on 
 the second floor ; a room filled with books and pictures 
 and marbles. " A perfect place," as Stella declared, 
 clasping her hands in a transport of artistic satisfaction.
 
 2l6 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 There were books on books. Indeed, the Northmore 
 girls, accustomed as they were to a fair library at home, 
 had not realized that so many books were ever gathered 
 in one room, outside of public places ; and there were 
 pictures beside pictures. There was a Corot at which 
 the heir of the house had not even hinted ; and the 
 Copley hung beside a celebrated Millais. Whether the 
 young man most enjoyed the keen appreciation of 
 Stella, or the frank, delighted wonder of the others, is 
 a question. He did the honors of the place with the 
 easy indifference of one to the manner born, and it 
 seemed a mere matter of course, when he called the 
 attention of his guests to one choice possession after 
 another, to rare old copies of books and de luxe 
 editions. 
 
 Stella's delight seemed to mount with every moment, 
 but Esther grew so quiet at last that the others rallied 
 her on her soberness. She flushed when Stella de- 
 clared that she looked almost melancholy, and said, 
 with a glance at the shelves, that one should not be 
 expected to be merry in such company. 
 
 But, truth to tell, her thoughts had company just 
 then that no other knew. There had come back to 
 her, oddly perhaps, the memory of a day when Morton 
 Elwell showed her the shelf of books in his little room. 
 It was not a handsome shelf he had made it him-
 
 AN OUTING AND AN INVITATION. 21 / 
 
 self ; and the books he had bought, one after another, 
 with savings which meant wearing the old hat and the 
 patch on the boots. How proud he was of those books ! 
 There was no easy indifference in his manner as he 
 stood before them with his shining face, and his hand 
 had almost trembled as he passed it caressingly over 
 their plain cloth bindings. 
 
 The servant in charge of the house presently an- 
 swered Mr. Hadley's ring by bringing up a tray with 
 the daintiest of lunches, and he himself set steaming 
 the samovar which stood in a cosey corner. He could 
 preside over pretty china almost as gracefully as Stella 
 herself, when it came to that. Altogether it was a 
 delectable hour which they spent in that library, and 
 the girls all said so in their various fashions when they 
 parted with Mr. Hadley. Esther, perhaps, said it 
 with more feeling than either of the others. She felt 
 as if she had been part of something she had dreamed 
 of all her life, and yet it was almost provoking, too 
 that old, insistent memory had half spoiled the dream. 
 
 From Boston to Nahant was the move next on their 
 programme. The place was in its glory then, one of the 
 prettiest of the seaside resorts; and for a week they 
 did everything that anybody does at the shore. 
 
 Oh, the delight of it all ! The pleasure of sitting on 
 the level sands and watching the tides creep in and
 
 2l8 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 out; the transports and trepidations of the first dip 
 into the great salt bath, and the unimagined joy of 
 flying over the bright blue water under sails stretched 
 by a glorious breeze ! If anything could have made 
 Kate waver in her conviction that her native state was 
 best favored of all in the length and breadth of the 
 land, it would have been, at moments, the thought of 
 its distance from the sea ; and it was a long, devouring 
 look, almost a tearful look, that she sent back at the 
 blue expanse when the hour came to leave it. 
 
 The outing had been a complete success, from be- 
 ginning to end. They were too tired to talk of it, as 
 they rode on the train back to Esterly. To look mu- 
 singly out of the windows was all that any of them 
 cared to do. But words came fast again as they rode 
 back to the farm with their grandfather, who was wait- 
 ing for them, of course, at the depot ; and faster still 
 when, with Tom and Aunt Elsie as listeners, they 
 were all seated* at the family supper. 
 
 " We've had more fun than we expected, positively 
 more," Kate exclaimed, "and I shall never take a bit 
 of stock again in that idea that thinking about things 
 beforehand is better than actually having them. It 
 must have been started by somebody who was too old 
 to enjoy things." 
 
 And her grandfather, after grunting a little over
 
 AN OUTING AND AN INVITATION. 2 19 
 
 the last clause, and calling attention to the fact that 
 he, at least, had never seen the time when he could 
 say of any rational enjoyments, " I have no pleasure 
 in them," was inclined to agree with the sentiment. 
 
 " Things don't turn out just as you expect them to, 
 of course," he remarked reflectively. " I never knew 
 it to happen that a body didn't miss something of 
 what he'd counted on, but then, on the other hand, 
 something's sure to turn up that you warn't looking 
 for, and you must set one over against the other. 
 There are worse things than old age to keep folks 
 from enjoying themselves," he added acutely, "and 
 one of them is being so taken up with yourself that 
 you feel abused if your own plans don't work out to 
 a T. For my part, I shouldn't wonder if there was 
 more pleasure to be 1 got out of surprises, anyhow." 
 
 The allusion to unexpected things of course sug- 
 gested the meeting with Mr. Hadley, and then fol- 
 lowed a full account of all his subsequent attentions. 
 The old gentleman was delighted, and wished he 
 could have been with them when they made that 
 visit to the house on Beacon Street, a wish which it 
 is doubtful whether the girls fully shared. They did not 
 demur to it, however, nor yet to his evident impres- 
 sion that the young man's gratitude for the light which 
 had been thrown on the history of his forefathers had
 
 22O WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 led him to extend these pleasant courtesies to his, 
 Ruel Saxon's, descendants. 
 
 Tom was the first to suggest the doubt. " Say, 
 did the nabob talk all the time about his ances- 
 tors ? " he demanded of Kate, as they sat on the 
 wood-pile after supper, a perch to which she de- 
 clared she was glad to come back after her fort- 
 night's absence. 
 
 " Of course he didn't," she replied. " I don't 
 think he spoke of them once, except when he showed 
 us some of their portraits in the library." 
 
 " I thought so," said Tom, kicking a birch stick 
 down from the pile, and sending it with accurate aim 
 against the instrument which he called a " saw- 
 horse " and she called a " saw-buck." Then, look- 
 ing her in the eyes, he asked coolly, " Which of 'em 
 is it, Stelle or Esther?" 
 
 " Both of 'em, I reckon," said Kate, with equal 
 coolness. 
 
 "It'll be one of them in particular if it keeps on 
 like this," said Tom, "and I'll bet a shilling it'll 
 be Esther." 
 
 'For once she did not take up the wager. It had 
 been thrown down between them so often during 
 the summer that nothing had prevented their both 
 becoming bankrupt except the standing quarrel as
 
 AN OUTING AND AN INVITATION. 221 
 
 to the amount involved, Tom maintaining steadily 
 that it was sixteen and two-third cents, one sixth of 
 a dollar, and she insisting with equal obstinacy that 
 it was twelve and a half. This time she let it pass. 
 
 "Tom, you're a goose," she said severely; and 
 then she added : " I suppose you don't think it's 
 possible that he's at all impressed with me. I'd like 
 to have you know that we had a great deal of con- 
 versation. Why " she threw a shade of weariness 
 into her voice "I had to go over most of the 
 ground that I've been going over with you ever 
 since I came. We had r up, of course. I really 
 could not help speaking of it. One would think there 
 was something actually profane about that poor little 
 letter, the way the Bostonians avoid using it. And 
 when I'd fairly made out my case, and he couldn't 
 deny it, he had to pretend, just as you do, that we 
 Westerners make too much of it, when we don't at 
 all ; and as if that was any answer ! " 
 
 "The way you do," observed Tom, sympathetically, 
 " when I show you that you folks mix up the wills 
 and shalls so there's no telling which from t'other, 
 and you get back at me by declaring that we say 
 ' hadn't ought ' and a few things of that sort" 
 
 And then they fell to it again in the old fashion, 
 Kate protesting the absolute incapacity of the aver-
 
 222 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 age mind for grasping the fine distinctions between 
 those two auxiliaries, which, thank Heaven, have still 
 not wholly lost their special uses on our Eastern 
 coast, and finally, after various thrusts at local usage, 
 ending with the charge that New Englanders more 
 than dwellers in the West are guilty of dropping 
 from their speech the final g, a point on which the 
 impartial listener might possibly have thought that 
 she had a little the best of it. 
 
 And while the good-natured dispute went on, 
 another and more important conversation was being 
 held in the house on the old county road, where 
 Esther sat with Aunt Katharine in the growing twi- 
 light. She had slipped away from her grandfather's 
 as soon as supper was over to make the call. There 
 had been so many of these calls since her three days' 
 visit there that no one was surprised at them any 
 more or offered to accompany her. It was recog- 
 nized by all that there was something of genuine 
 intimacy between these two, an intimacy at which 
 every one smiled except Kate, whose dislike of her 
 lonely old relative seemed to increase with her sister's 
 fondness. 
 
 Aunt Katharine had heard the click of the gate 
 as the girl came up, and for once she had hobbled 
 down the walk to greet a guest. There was almost
 
 AN OUTING AND AN INVITATION. 223 
 
 a hungry look in her eyes as they searched the 
 bright young face, and her brother had not inquired 
 more eagerly than she for the particulars of the trip. 
 And Esther went over it all, with a cheery pleasure 
 that warmed her listener's heart, talking as she 
 might have talked to her mother of the things she 
 had seen and felt, gayly, without reserve, and sure 
 always of the interest of the other. 
 
 It was a rare hour to Aunt Katharine. Not in 
 years had any fresh young life brought its happi- 
 ness so willingly to her, and her heart responded 
 with a glow and fulness like the sudden out-leaping 
 of a brook in the spring. 
 
 At the last Esther had said, a little wistfully, that 
 she was glad these days had come so late in this 
 summer visit. It was almost ended now, but its 
 climax of pleasure had been reached, and the mem- 
 ory of it would be a joy forever. 
 
 " Do you have to go back, both of you, the first 
 of September ? " Aunt Katharine asked suddenly. 
 " Why couldn't you stay a while longer ? They don't 
 need you at home for anything special, do they ? " 
 
 The idea took definite shape as she caught the 
 outlines of it, and her keen eyes kindled. " You 
 like things here better 'n Kate does, and you're older. 
 S'pose you should stay at the farm and see what a
 
 224 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 New England fall is like you can't know your 
 mother's country without knowing that and then 
 spend the winter in Boston with Stella. She'd like 
 it, and she'd let you into a lot of things you want 
 to know about. I never cared much for pictures 
 and music and such, but you do ; and you or' to 
 have a taste of 'em while you're young." 
 
 She paused, and Esther said with a gasp : " Oh, 
 that would be glorious, glorious ! But the expense 
 of it, Aunt Katharine ! Father couldn't possibly 
 afford to let me do it, and I couldn't pay my own 
 way, you know, as Stella does." 
 
 " I wasn't counting on your father's bearing the 
 expense, nor you either," said Miss Saxon, dryly. "I 
 guess I could afford to do that much for you, and a 
 few other things too, if you took a notion to 'em." 
 And then a tenderer note crept into her voice as she 
 added, " I missed most of the things I wanted when I 
 was a girl, and I'd like to make sure of it that you 
 fared better." 
 
 There was no talking for a minute or two after 
 that. The delights that seemed to open before 
 Esther through the avenues of this plan almost took 
 her breath away, and the generosity that proposed it 
 made her eyes dim with tears. It was Aunt Katha- 
 rine, not she, who could discuss it coolly, and to the
 
 AN OUTING AND AN INVITATION. 225 
 
 old woman the thought seemed to grow every moment 
 dearer. There were friends of hers in Boston not 
 Stella's friends, she added, with a peculiar smile 
 people who would be good to Esther for her sake. 
 Perhaps Esther would come to feel toward them as 
 she herself did, and then she looked at the girl for 
 a moment as if taking her measure with reference to 
 something larger than she knew. 
 
 The dew was falling and the whippoorwills were 
 calling across the hills through the twilight that had- 
 deepened almost into night when Esther rose at last 
 to go home. She had never kissed Aunt Katharine 
 before, but the old woman drew her face down to 
 hers and held it for an instant as she bade her good 
 night. Then she said almost brusquely : 
 
 " You'd better hurry home now. They'll think I've 
 lost my wits entirely to be keeping you so long. 
 And you've got that letter to write to your mother. 
 Tell her everything, and be sure it goes in the 
 morning." 
 
 And Esther, with feet almost as light as the wings 
 of the night birds, hurried across the fields to tell 
 the surprising news to the two circles the house- 
 hold at home, and the one at her grandfather's. 
 Q
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK. 
 
 IT was a long letter that went to Mrs. Northmore 
 the next morning. Indeed, there were three ; for 
 Stella, in her delight over the prospect of keeping 
 Esther, filled a sheet with an ecstatic picture of the 
 joys which a winter in Boston would surely furnish, 
 and Ruel Saxon supplied another, impressing upon 
 his daughter his own deep satisfaction in the thought 
 of having one of her children with him a little 
 longer, and adding tenderly that since she herself 
 went out of the home so long ago, no young pres- 
 ence there had been as dear and comforting to him 
 as this of Esther. 
 
 He had been amazed when the girl brought the 
 news of Aunt Katharine's proposal, and certainly 
 nothing in his sister's behavior for years had pleased 
 him as much. He visited her promptly the next 
 morning to assure her of his approval, and congratu- 
 late her (as he told Aunt Elsie) on having for once 
 acted with such eminent good sense. But either he 
 
 226
 
 WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK. 22? 
 
 did not do it in the most tactful manner, or he 
 found his sister in an unfortunate mood, for it ap- 
 peared from his own account of it that, after the 
 brightest preliminaries, she had proceeded to air her 
 most obnoxious views ; views which, as he pensively 
 declared, he had smitten hip and thigh and put 
 utterly to rout more than once ; and he ended his 
 report of the interview with an expression of irri- 
 tated wonder as to how so amiable a girl as Esther 
 Northmore ever came to be a favorite with her Aunt 
 Katharine Saxon. 
 
 But there was one person who found it even 
 harder than he to understand the partiality. This 
 was Kate; and in her the wonder was mingled with 
 a sort of resentment which she could not throw off. 
 She alone of the household had not rejoiced when 
 her sister came in that night with the announcement 
 of the invitation which seemed to her such great 
 good fortune. There was no touch of envy in it. 
 To the exclamation of all, " If Kate could only stay, 
 too ! " she had responded with perfect honesty, " I 
 don't want to. I've had a splendid time here; but 
 I'm about ready to go home now, and I wouldn't 
 stay away longer than we planned if I could." 
 
 It was none of her business perhaps, she said it 
 to herself again and again, but she did not like
 
 228 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 the growing influence which Aunt Katharine was 
 gaining over Esther. It did not matter so much 
 while the intimacy was thought to be only passing, 
 and going home lay in the near distance, but to 
 leave her sister behind, within touch of this master- 
 ful spirit, and all the more open to her influence 
 through receiving her favors, this was a prospect be- 
 fore which Kate chafed with a growing uneasiness. 
 That thing which Tom had told her so long ago, 
 which had only amused her then, that Aunt Katha- 
 rine had said she would leave her money to that one 
 of her female relatives who would promise never to 
 marry, came back to her now to vex and trouble her. 
 That the woman would definitely make so bald a 
 proposal, or that the girl would definitely accept it, 
 were suggestions which at moments seemed too foolish 
 to entertain ; she could brush them aside with scorn ; 
 and then, in some new form, they would come 
 creeping back. If not a definite proposal, a formal 
 promise, there might be tacit understanding, some- 
 thing which would rest upon the girl and bind her 
 as subtly as any pledge. Poor Kate ! She could not 
 even understand her own state of mind. Was it love 
 of Esther? Was it thought of Morton Elwell, and 
 a haunting sense of a hope which she felt sure he 
 carried deep in his heart? Or was it simply the re-
 
 WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK. 22Q 
 
 volt of a spirit as stout as Aunt Katharine's own 
 against the possibility of any bondage, for her sister 
 as for herself? 
 
 As the days went on -. the days before the letter 
 came from home which finally settled the question 
 she grew restless and depressed. Even the disputes 
 with Tom fell off, and he rallied her sometimes on 
 her lack of spirit. 
 
 " I believe it's the notion of going West again that 
 makes you so down in the mouth, for all you pretend 
 you're so keen to go," he said to her once, as they 
 were tramping home in the late afternoon from the 
 wood-lot, where they had gone in search of sassafras. 
 
 She tossed her head. " You know better," she 
 said, "and between ourselves and the post you aren't 
 so very lively yourself lately. I believe you'd like to 
 go home with me and grow up with the West 
 a while." 
 
 They exchanged a good-natured laugh. There was 
 no denying that there were moments when the 
 thought of parting with his cousin Kate really de- 
 pressed Tom Saxon. She had the next, word, and 
 she said it with unaffected seriousness. 
 
 " Honestly, Tom, I don't know what ails me. If I 
 could have a good out-and-out cry I believe I could get 
 over it ; but there isn't anything really to cry about. I'll
 
 23O WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 tell you how I do sometimes at home, when I feel 
 blue. I get down Dickens, and read the death of 
 little Nell, or how they killed Sydney Carton, or 
 something awfully harrowing like that, you know, and 
 then I have it out and feel better. But you haven't 
 got Dickens here," she added ruefully. 
 
 " Grandfather's got Foxe's ' Book of Martyrs,' " said 
 Tom, grinning, and then he added, in a tone of cu- 
 riosity, " Do you cry over books ? " It was a femi- 
 nine weakness which he had not suspected of Kate. 
 
 " Cry ! " she repeated. " Yes, I do ; and I don't 
 care who knows it. I'll tell you how I got through 
 ' Nicholas Nickleby.' It used me up so every time I 
 read how Squeers treated those poor fellows in his 
 school that I couldn't stand it. Well, I knew he got 
 his come-up-ance from Nicholas in the end, so every 
 time I read one of those mean places, I'd just turn 
 ahead and read how Nicholas flogged him. I reckon 
 I must, have read that scene a dozen times before I 
 fairly came to it, and it did me more good every 
 time. I believe that story would have killed me if 
 I hadn't." 
 
 There was plenty of fight in -Kate. Tom had 
 known that for some time. That there were tears, 
 too, need not have surprised any one but a boy, and 
 he liked her none the less for it. She gave a long
 
 WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK. 231 
 
 sigh, and came back to her own troubles. The sym- 
 pathetic tone in which Tom said, " I wish I could 
 do something for you," was a comfort in itself, and 
 the need of talking to some one drew her on. 
 
 " Right down at the bottom of it, Tom, I suppose 
 it's the thought of going home without Esther; and 
 yet it isn't because I hate to leave her behind. I 
 shall miss her, of course ; but I could stand that. 
 She was off at school a whole year and I didn't pine 
 for her so dreadfully much. But but it's Aunt 
 Katharine ! Tom, I can't bear to have Esther get 
 so intimate with Aunt Katharine." 
 
 She had actually said it now, and for the rest of 
 the way home she poured out her heart with a girlish 
 freedom. Perhaps her feelings grew more clear to 
 herself as she tried to make them plain to him. He 
 understood better than she expected, and fully 
 agreed with her as to the undesirability of Aunt 
 Katharine's "making a slave of Esther"; but he 
 thought her fears on this point much exaggerated, 
 and it was good advice that he gave her as they 
 neared the house. 
 
 " If I was in your place I wouldn't worry about 
 it. I guess Aunt Katharine's got some sense if she 
 is so cranky. And Esther's old enough to know 
 what she's about. Just leave her alone to get sick
 
 232 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 of some of those notions herself before she's done 
 with 'em, and you ease up on the fretting. It doesn't 
 do a bit of good, anyhow." 
 
 She really meant to " ease up." Tom's opinion on 
 the last point was distinctly sound, but the old dis- 
 quiet had possession of her again within five minutes 
 from the time that conversation ended. The letter 
 had come from home she learned it as she entered 
 the house giving hearty consent that Esther should 
 remain in New England, and the girl was already off 
 to carry the word to Aunt Katharine. She had said 
 she would be back soon, but no one really expected 
 it, and supper was over before they saw her coming 
 across the fields. Kate, who was watching, saw her 
 first, and slipping out of the house hurried to meet 
 her. 
 
 She had brought happy thoughts from Aunt Kath- 
 arine's, happy and serious too, it would seem from 
 the look in her face, and they occupied her so in- 
 tently that she had almost met her sister before she 
 saw her coming. Then she put out both her hands 
 with an eager greeting. 
 
 " I'm so glad you've come," she said. "I wanted to 
 talk it over a little by ourselves." She slipped her 
 arm through Kate's, and turned back into the darken- 
 ing fields. " You weren't surprised at what the
 
 WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK. 233 
 
 letter said, were you ? I was sorry you weren't 
 there when it came ; but I had to take it down to 
 Aunt Katharine, for it was partly to her, and I 
 couldn't wait." 
 
 " No, I wasn't surprised. I felt sure they'd let 
 you stay," said Kate, and then she added, " I do hope 
 you'll have a good time, Esther, and enjoy everything 
 as much as you expect to." 
 
 She had made an effort to speak heartily, but there 
 was such a sober note in her voice that Esther's face 
 clouded, and she looked quickly at her sister. " If 
 you were only going to be here too, Kate, it would 
 be perfect," she said. "I shall be wishing all the 
 way along that you were in the good times with me. 
 And if you hadn't said so positively that you wanted 
 to go home, I should have felt like proposing to Aunt 
 Katharine to cut my time in Boston in two and let 
 us be there together for a little while." 
 
 " I shouldn't have thanked you for it if you had," 
 said Kate, a sudden impatience leaping into her voice. 
 Then, with a bitterness she ought to have kept down, 
 she added, " I don't like Aunt Katharine, and I don't 
 want her favors." 
 
 The look in Esther's face changed. " You don't 
 do Aunt Katharine justice, Kate," she said. " No- 
 body does here. She isn't hateful and hard-hearted,
 
 234 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 as you all seem to think. She's good and kind and 
 true oh, so true ! I believe she'd do more and 
 give more than any other person I ever saw to bring 
 about what she thinks is right. I don't know, I'm 
 sure, how she came to like me, but I know why I 
 like her. I admire her and I love her, and there's 
 nobody in the world I'd rather take a favor from 
 than Aunt Katharine." 
 
 Kate set her teeth hard. She had prejudiced every- 
 thing she had meant to say by the heat with which 
 she had spoken. She was silent a moment, then she 
 said almost piteously : " I don't wonder she likes you. 
 But I may as well be honest, Esther ; I do hate to 
 see her getting such an influence over you. It's all 
 well enough to admire her for standing up for her 
 own opinions, but I don't see how you can fall in 
 with some of them. I don't see how you can bear 
 it to hear her talk so bitterly against the ways we've 
 always been used to. And especially I don't see how 
 you can stand it to hear her run down the men as 
 she does." 
 
 " I don't agree with all her opinions," said Esther, 
 quickly, "but I can see how she comes to hold them, 
 and she doesn't always talk as harshly as you think. 
 But it isn't her opinions any way; it's her own self 
 that I care about."
 
 WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK. 235 
 
 " And you'll end by wanting to look at every- 
 thing just as she does, because you like her so 
 much and feel so indebted to her," said Kate. 
 Then, with an accent that was fairly tragic, she 
 added : " Oh, she knows it, she knows it, and that's 
 what she wants to keep you here for! She'll end 
 by wanting you never to marry, and offering to 
 leave you all her money if you'll promise not to do 
 it." 
 
 Esther drew her arm away from her sister, and 
 the flush that swept over her face was plain even 
 in the twilight. " I think you'd better leave all that 
 to Aunt Katharine and me. It doesn't strike me as 
 coming under your charge," she said proudly. And 
 then the coldness in her voice melted with a sudden 
 heat as she added : " But suppose I should come to 
 see things as she does suppose I should come to 
 take a different view of life from what I did once, 
 what then ? I'll go where my honest convictions 
 lead me. It's my right and my duty, and I shall 
 do it." 
 
 It sounded very brave and solemn in the twilight. 
 A whippoorwill from the woods behind Aunt Kath- 
 arine's house had the only word that followed, and 
 he called it across the stillness with a long soft 
 cadence that sounded like a wail.
 
 236 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 They turned their faces to the house and walked 
 toward it without speaking. It was a relief to both 
 when Stella came out to meet them. 
 
 " I thought you were never coming," she said to 
 Esther. " Dear me, I shall be glad when I get you 
 in Boston, with Aunt Katharine too far away to use 
 her magnet on you." 
 
 A half hour later Kate was in conference with 
 Tom again. She had called him into the shadows 
 of the barn, and her voice was almost a whisper as 
 she said : 
 
 "Tom, I want you to wake me up to-morrow morn- 
 ing when you come down to do the milking. I'm 
 going to make a call before breakfast." 
 
 Tom gave a low whistle. " At that time in the 
 morning ! Where are you going ? " he demanded. 
 
 "To Aunt Katharine's," she said. 
 
 Tom gave another whistle, this time a louder one. 
 " Great Scott ! " he ejaculated. " So you're going to 
 keep it right up, are you ? " 
 
 "I'm going to keep it up till I've had one good 
 square talk with her," said Kate, with decision. " Very 
 likely it's none of my business, you've told me that, 
 and so has Esther, but she's tremendously clear 
 that she's got to follow her conscience where it leads 
 her, and mine leads me right down there to Aunt
 
 WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK. 237 
 
 Katharine's. I can't go home without doing it, and 
 there's only a week longer for me to stay, so I may 
 as well take time by the forelock." 
 
 " I should think it was taking time by the forelock 
 with a vengeance to go down there at five o'clock. Why 
 don't you go at a reasonable hour? " growled Tom. 
 
 Kate was losing patience. " Because I don't want 
 Esther to know I'm going," she said. " If I go later 
 she might happen to come in while I'm there, or she 
 might ask me where I'd been. No, I've made up 
 my mind to go before breakfast, and all you have to 
 do is to wake me up." 
 
 " I'd like to know how I'm going to do it without 
 waking her, too," he said. 
 
 " Oh, I'll fix that part," she replied, beginning to 
 smile a little. "Of course you can't pound on the 
 door ; but I've got a trick worth two of that. I'll 
 tie a string round my wrist and let the end hang 
 out of the window. Then, when you come by, you 
 can pull it and that'll wake me up. I waked a girl 
 that way once, on Fourth of July (only the string 
 was round her ankle), and she slept so like a log 
 that she said I almost pulled her out of the window 
 before she was fairly awake. But you needn't be 
 afraid of pulling me out. Just give a twitch and I 
 shall feel it. I sleep on the front side."
 
 238 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 "All right," said Tom, and then he could not help 
 adding, "but I'll tell you now that your going down 
 there won't do a bit of good, and you'd better keep 
 out of it." 
 
 " It'll do me good to free my mind," said Kate. 
 " And after that I mean to take your advice, Tom, 
 and quit worrying." 
 
 The allusion to his advice was gratifying. Tom 
 agreed to administer the twitch at half-past four the 
 next morning, and they separated, feeling like a pair 
 of conspirators, Kate at least clear in the opinion 
 that she was conspiring for the good of humanity. 
 
 She lay awake so long that night, turning in her 
 mind what she would say to Aunt Katharine, and never 
 getting it settled, for the singular reason that she could 
 never foresee what Aunt Katharine would say next, that 
 it seemed to her she had not been asleep at all when 
 there came the appointed signal in the cool of the 
 morning. For a moment she had a passing dream that 
 some one was trying to amputate her hand with a 
 wood-saw, then it all came back to her. Her eyes flew 
 open, and she crept stealthily out of bed. A flutter of 
 the curtain showed Tom she was astir, but after that 
 there was as little flutter as possible. 
 
 She slipped into her clothes as noiselessly as a 
 ghost, with fearful glances at Esther, who slept on in
 
 WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK. 239 
 
 serene oblivion of the plot against her, carried her 
 shoes in her hand to the foot of the stairs, and went out 
 through the kitchen, where even Aunt Elsie had not 
 yet made her appearance. At the barn she paused a 
 minute for a word with Tom and a cup of new milk, 
 then flew down the lane, anxious still lest some one, 
 looking unseasonably from the house, should see her, 
 till the bend of the first hill hid her from view. 
 
 Some one has acutely remarked that people who 
 break their usual habits by rising very early in the 
 morning are apt to be a little conceited in the first part 
 of the day and somewhat stupid in the last. There was 
 certainly no lack of self-assurance in Kate Northmore, 
 as she took that walk across the dewy fields, with the 
 fresh air blowing on her face, and the twitter of birds 
 sounding from the woods. Not till she actually stood 
 at Aunt Katharine's threshold was there any tremor of 
 her nerves or any flutter at her heart. 
 
 Miss Saxon herself answered the knock, and a look 
 of something like alarm came into her face as she saw 
 the caller. "Is anybody sick at your house?" she 
 asked quickly. 
 
 Kate had not foreseen the question. " No," she 
 said, taken a little aback. " Nobody's sick, but I 
 wanted to see you, and I thought I'd come early." 
 
 " I should think so," ejaculated the old woman, her
 
 24O WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 face relaxing into a grim sort of a smile. " Well, come 
 in and se' down." 
 
 She had no notion of preparing the way for the an- 
 nouncement of a pressing errand, or of hindering it by 
 any observations of her own, and she took the chair 
 opposite Kate's with her hands clasped on the top of 
 her cane, waiting in perfect silence for the girl to begin. 
 
 Kate's heart began to thump now, and her mouth 
 felt suddenly dry. " I'm going home in a week," she 
 said, " and I I wanted to talk about something with 
 you before I went." And then suddenly she stopped. 
 There was a queer sort of clutch at her throat, and 
 for a minute she could not go on. 
 
 The old woman's eyebrows bent themselves into a 
 puzzled frown. "Well," she said at last, "you hain't 
 favored me with much of your company this summer. 
 If you've got any particular reason for coming now, I 
 s'pose you know what 'tis." 
 
 The sharpness of her tone brought Kate back to 
 herself. "Yes'm I do," she said, "and it's about Es- 
 ther. You've asked her to stay here and she's going to 
 do it no, I don't want to stay myself," - she threw 
 in quickly. "I'm ready to go home; but she wants to. 
 She thinks it's glorious." And then she stopped again, 
 that unaccountable clutch at the throat coming for a 
 second time.
 
 WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK. 24! 
 
 " And you don't want her to do it ? Is that what 
 you're driving at ? " said Aunt Katharine. She was in 
 no mood now for delays. 
 
 " I should just as lief she'd do it as not I want her 
 to have a good time," cried Kate, "if if you only 
 wouldn't try to make her think as you do about some 
 things." 
 
 It was out now, and the clutch at her throat relaxed. 
 
 "Oh," said Miss Saxon. There was a volume of 
 meaning in the monosyllable as she spoke it, and then 
 her face grew cold and sharp as an icicle. "What 
 things ? " 
 
 It was really a pity that Kate was not better informed 
 as to her aunt's peculiar views. But she caught at 
 the one which had offended her most, and thrust it for- 
 ward roughly. " About hating everything, especially 
 the men," she cried, " and not wanting girls to be 
 married. They say you want to leave your money 
 to somebody who'll promise to stay single all her 
 life." 
 
 Miss Saxon started, and a faint pink color rose in 
 her cheeks, old and wrinkled as they were. " Did 
 your sister tell you that?" she demanded. 
 
 " No," said Kate, " I don't know as she ever heard 
 of it till I told her. I told her last night, and how I 
 felt about it, too." 
 
 R
 
 242 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 "And she said ?" queried Miss Saxon. The 
 pink was still in her cheeks. 
 
 "Well," said Kate she hesitated a moment and 
 then looked straight at the questioner "she as 
 good as said it was none of my business, and she'd 
 do what she thought was right whatever came of it." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Aunt Katharine, with an accent of re- 
 lief. " And I presume you didn't tell her that you 
 were coming here this morning. I see now why you 
 came so early." She looked at her niece with a faint 
 sarcastic smile, then said coldly, " I am very fond of 
 your sister." 
 
 The words sounded somehow like a threat. The 
 blood mounted in Kate's face, and she clinched her 
 hands on the sides of her chair. " I know it," she 
 said, ""and so is every one else fond of her. Grand- 
 father likes her just as much as you do. Perhaps it's 
 new for you to care for a girl as you care for her, 
 but it's no new thing for Esther. It's been the way 
 ever since she was little." 
 
 The bearing of the fact on Kate's ground of quar- 
 rel with her aunt was perhaps not clear, but some 
 fine wrinkles gathered in Miss Saxon's forehead. 
 
 " And does Esther like everybody ? " she asked, 
 with a returning sharpness. 
 
 " She keeps it to herself if she doesn't," said Kate.
 
 WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK. 243 
 
 "She's kind to everybody most everybody," she 
 added, with a sudden remembrance of the one per- 
 son to whom Esther had not of late seemed always 
 kind. " And that's how she gets into trouble, mak- 
 ing everybody like her, with her soft pleasant ways 
 and saying nice things. Oh, I've had to stand up 
 for her so many times to keep her from being im- 
 posed on ! I'm standing up for her now," she went 
 on passionately. " It's your ideas you care about, 
 and you want her to take up with them, whether 
 they'll make her happy or not. But I care for her, 
 and I want to make you stop." 
 
 The old woman's face had grown as tense as a 
 drawn bow. " So you think my ideas are getting 
 hold of her, do you ? " she asked. 
 
 "She thinks they are," cried Kate, "but I don't 
 believe it. I believe it's just because she thinks so 
 much of you. But if she should come to feel as you 
 do about all those things, what good would it do ? 
 She couldn't fight for them. Do you think there's 
 any fight in Esther Northmore ? " She threw out 
 her hand with an impatient gesture. " Oh, they say 
 you're so clever ! But you're not clever at all if you 
 think that. She'd bear things till they broke her 
 heart before she'd fight." 
 
 Miss Saxon's lips were drawn tight, and her eyes
 
 244 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 narrowed to a bright dark line, as if these side-lights 
 that Kate had been throwing on Esther's character 
 had blinded her a little. She did not speak for a 
 moment, and the girl went on hotly, even fiercely. 
 
 " You talk about wanting women to be so free and 
 independent, but you want to bind Esther to those 
 ideas of yours and make her carry them out. I'll tell 
 you what would be the end of it if she should come 
 into your plan. She'd stand by what she promised, 
 but 'twould kill her. She's made for loving, and for 
 caring about the things we've always cared about, 
 and she wouldn't be happy any other way. She isn't 
 that kind." 
 
 Aunt Katharine's lips parted now. They seemed 
 to be as dry as Kate's had been a little while ago. 
 She leaned forward on her cane and asked a ques- 
 tion slowly. "You pretend to know so much about 
 your sister, tell me, do you think there's anybody she 
 cares for now ? " 
 
 Kate dropped her head for a moment, but it was 
 no time for evasions. The excitement and strain of 
 the situation were too much for her at last. " No, I 
 don't," she said, with the tears springing into her 
 eyes. " But there's somebody that cares a sight for 
 her; and if she should ever come to care for him 
 she'd be a thousand times happier than she'd ever
 
 WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK. 245 
 
 be with anything you could do for her. Oh, if you 
 should make her promise if you should leave your 
 money to her I should hate you as long as I live, 
 and she would hate you, too, after a while." 
 
 Miss Katharine Saxon rose from her seat. She 
 had not been as straight in years, but she trembled 
 from head to foot as she stood there facing the girl. 
 
 " Katharine Northmore, for you're my namesake, 
 if you do hate me, " she said slowly, " you've said 
 enough. You took upon yourself to do a very imperti- 
 nent thing when you came down here to give instruc- 
 tions to me. I shall walk by the light I've got, and 
 do my duty as I see it, by myself and your sister too. 
 Now go home. And you needn't be afraid I shall 
 tell Esther you were here. I shan't shame her nor 
 myself by ever speaking of it." 
 
 But when she was left alone she sank back in her 
 chair, and there was almost a sob in her voice as she 
 said, " If it were only that girl who saw things as I see 
 them!"
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 INTO THE WEST AGAIN. 
 
 THE good cry which Kate had been longing for 
 came before she got back to her grandfather's 
 that morning. She took it with a girlish abandon, 
 sitting on the meadow bridge. Then she rose up, 
 bathed her face in the brook and went on her way, 
 half ashamed of what she had done, half wondering 
 that she had dared to do it, and wholly glad that it 
 was over. Tom was waiting for her at the bars below 
 the barn. It helped the appearance of things that she 
 should go in with him to breakfast, and, though he 
 would have scorned to own it, Tom had a healthy 
 curiosity as to the outcome of this interview with 
 Aunt Katharine. 
 
 Kate's report of it was meagre ; but the impression 
 was left on his mind that she had gotten rather the 
 worst of it, especially as she made no concealment of 
 the fact that she had been summarily dismissed at the 
 end. She owned frankly that she had been crying, 
 and then showed plainly that the spirit of controversy 
 
 246
 
 INTO THE WEST AGAIN. 247 
 
 was not dead in her yet by the reckless manner in 
 which she threw in her " Westernisms " and defended 
 them during the rest of their talk. On the whole, 
 Tom felt relieved as to her state of mind, and they 
 went into the house quarrelling in the most natural 
 manner; she having remarked that Aunt Katharine's 
 fierce manner didn't " faze " her after she got started, 
 and he protesting that there was no such word in the 
 dictionary. He maintained his point as far as the old 
 Webster in the house was concerned, but she at least 
 proved that her word came of good respectable stock, 
 and stood firm on the proposition that it onglit to be 
 there if it wasn't. 
 
 It was the last time for many a day that Kate spoke 
 to any one of that morning's adventure. Not a sus- 
 picion of it dawned on Esther. The talk between 
 the sisters the night before had been too nearly a 
 quarrel for either of them to wish to reopen the 
 subject which had so disturbed them, and it was out 
 of consideration for Kate's uneasiness over the intimacy 
 with Aunt Katharine that Esther went to her house 
 less often than usual during the next few days. But 
 indeed it was not easy during the week that was left 
 of Kate's stay at her grandfather's for either of the 
 girls to find time for anything except the pleasurings 
 which always crowd the last days of a visit. Every-
 
 248 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 thing which had been omitted before must be done 
 now, and there were all the little gifts to be prepared 
 for the family at home, tokens of special meaning for 
 each one, and for Mrs. Northmore most of all. 
 
 She had asked for a piece of flag-root from the old 
 spot in the meadow, and enough was dug to satisfy 
 her appetite for years, Aunt Elsie preserving some of 
 it in sugar, just as the grandmother used to in the old 
 days, when children carried bits of it to church in 
 their pockets to keep them awake during sermon time. 
 She had mentioned an apple from the crooked tree 
 in the lane, whose seeds always shook in their core 
 like a rattlebox by the first of September, and every 
 apple which ripened on the old farm in the summer 
 had a place in Kate's trunk. There were odors, too, 
 which she loved ; odors of pine, and sweet fern, and 
 life everlasting, to be gathered and sewed into silken 
 bags and pillows ; and there was a little bunch Aunt 
 Elsie tucked it in of dried hardback and catnip and 
 spearmint. 
 
 " I don't suppose she ever steeped those things for 
 her own babies, being a doctor's wife," she said; "but 
 she knew the taste of them when she was a baby 
 herself, and I guess it'll bring back the old garret to 
 her, and the bunches that hung from the rafters when 
 she and I used to play there on rainy days."
 
 INTO THE WEST AGAIN. 249 
 
 Such were the chief events of that last week, but 
 there was one other of some importance, a call from 
 Mr. Philip Hadley, who did not come this time to 
 inquire for his ancestors, but very distinctly for the 
 young ladies, and the fact that their grandfather was 
 absent did not prevent his making a decidedly long 
 call. He seemed extremely interested in all their 
 doings since he saw them last, and the look of pleas- 
 ure with which he heard the announcement that 
 Esther was to spend the winter in Boston would have 
 convinced Tom, had he seen it, of the correctness of 
 an opinion he had lately expressed to Kate. It did 
 not affect her, however. It was no young man with 
 soft white hands, but only a grim old woman, whose 
 influence she feared for her sister. 
 
 So the days went by, swift, hurrying days, and 
 brought the morning of Kate's departure. Tom 
 would have liked to go with her to the depot, but it 
 was the grandfather, with the girls, of course, who 
 made the trip. They said good-by to each other in 
 a last interview at the barn, and though each tried 
 to be gay and off-hand, the effort was not very suc- 
 cessful. They made solemn compact to write to each 
 other often, Tom for his part agreeing to keep his 
 "eye peeled " for any developments concerning Esther, 
 and Kate for hers promising to " watch out " for
 
 25O WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 anything that could interest him in affairs at the 
 West. 
 
 "You must come out and see us, Tom," she said 
 earnestly. " I want to show you everything, and 
 make you like our part of the country as well as 
 as well as I like this. Your ways are different from 
 ours, of course ; but I've got a lot of new ideas, and 
 I've had an awfully good time with you, Tom. I 
 didn't know I could feel so bad to go away." 
 
 " I guess I should like it out your way too," said 
 Tom, turning his head as if it were not quite safe 
 to look into her eyes at that moment, " and perhaps 
 sometime I can come. I guess it's good for folks 
 to see something besides their own things, and 
 I know I should like it out West if you were there." 
 
 And then they parted, each of them having ap- 
 parently some trouble with the throat just then, and 
 Tom drawing his sleeve across his eyes in a sus- 
 picious manner as he walked down the lane. 
 
 " The Lord bless and keep you and cause His 
 face to shine upon you," Ruel Saxon said solemnly 
 as he bade the girl good-by at the depot. 
 
 It was the last word before the train pulled out, 
 for Esther's heart was full, and she could say no 
 more after sending her love for the thousandth time 
 to them all at home. And then the beautiful New
 
 INTO THE WEST AGAIN. 
 
 England village, with its lovely homes and shaded 
 streets, faded from Kate's sight; the hills and the 
 little fields, crossed by the old stone walls, rushed 
 past her, and it was the wide green stretches of the 
 home country for which the eyes of her heart were 
 straining as she flew on into the West. 
 
 It was a great day for the family when she 
 reached home. The doctor was at the depot, im- 
 patient as a boy over the three minutes' delay in the 
 train that brought her in, and he almost forgot to 
 secure her trunk, or set her bag into the carriage, 
 in his delight at seeing her. 
 
 "Well, I believe they must have treated you pretty 
 well back there," he said, pinching her cheek. And 
 he would have had her on the scales before she left 
 the depot if she had not protested that she could not 
 spare a second getting weighed. 
 
 " I shall lose a pound for every minute we waste get- 
 ting home," she cried, jumping into the carriage; and at 
 this he laughed, and putting the reins into her hands, 
 told her to get the gray filly over the ground as fast as 
 she pleased. How they did go dashing down the road, 
 and what wonder that excitement was rife in the town 
 that afternoon as to what member of the community 
 was lying at the point of death that the doctor was 
 going at such a rate to see him !
 
 252 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 They were on the porch to greet her when she pulled 
 up at the door, Mrs. Northmore and Virgie, with Aunt 
 Milly gorgeous in her best cap and kerchief at the 
 rear ; and such a hugging and kissing, such a laugh- 
 ing and crying followed as might have made one won- 
 der what would have happened if the girl had stayed 
 away a year instead of a single summer. 
 
 It was good to be back so good ; she realized it 
 more with every minute, and the trite old saying 
 that the best part of going away from home is coming 
 back again appealed to her as never before. The 
 trunk was unpacked with all the household gathered 
 round, but no one, not even Mrs. Northmore, dar- 
 ing to help, lest some precious token, tucked safely 
 in by Kate's own hand, should be drawn prematurely 
 from its corner or shaken unwarily from the folds 
 of a dress. Oh, the joy of drawing them out, one 
 after another, and the bursts of delight with which 
 they were received ! 
 
 Virgie skipped about the room in glee over the 
 trinkets which had been brought to her from Boston 
 and the sea ; Dr. Northmore declared he must have 
 coffee made at once to give him a chance of using 
 the beautiful cup which Stella had painted with just 
 such blossoming honeysuckles as grew over the door 
 from which he had carried away his bride ; Aunt
 
 INTO THE WEST AGAIN. 2$ 3 
 
 Milly stood agape over the glories of the black silk 
 apron which her young ladies had embroidered for 
 her in figures of the gayest colors Jack Horner 
 enjoying his Christmas pie in one corner, Miss Muf- 
 fet frightened from her curds by the wicked black 
 spider in another, and the muffin man with his tray 
 on his head stalking proudly between ; while as for 
 Mrs. North more, she sat like a little child, her lap 
 filling with treasures, nibbling now and then at the 
 flag-root, or burying her face in those dear old odors, 
 and lifting it again with smiles shining through the 
 tears in her eyes. 
 
 Not till the very bottom of the trunk had been 
 reached was it emptied of its last gift, and then there 
 was plenty of need for the mother's help ; for the 
 putting away of her scattered wardrobe was a task 
 to which Kate could not quiet her excited nerves. 
 She was almost too happy to eat, but the supper 
 Aunt Milly had made ready would have put the edge 
 of appetite on satiety itself. 
 
 "Why, Aunt Milly, a body'd think I was a regular 
 prodigal, to have such a feast as this set out for me," 
 she declared, at the close of the meal, when it seemed 
 as if every one of her favorite dainties had been 
 heaped upon her plate in turn, but the old woman 
 shook her head at this with emphasis.
 
 254 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 "No ye ain't, honey," she said, "your Aunt Milly 
 never did have no use for prodigals " (she would 
 probably not have recognized any member of her 
 family in that character, however he might have 
 wasted his substance), " but I allers did 'low that 
 them that's a comfort to you were the ones to fix for. 
 Tears to me that was a terrible mean-spirited man 
 in the Bible that never let 'em set out a kid or any- 
 thing for the boy that was so good 'n' steady. Pd 
 have done it, if I'd been cookin' for 'em, sure nuff I 
 would." 
 
 It was, perhaps, the devoted old servant who had 
 pined most for Kate's return, and it was certainly she 
 who was most anxious to have the girl all to herself 
 now that she had fairly come. Mrs. Northmore could 
 wait. The things she cared most to know would be 
 learned best in the unsolicited confidences of the days 
 that were coming, and she feigned some errand for 
 herself in the edge of evening which gave the girl a 
 chance to sit for a little while in the kitchen, with 
 the old woman questioning her and crooning over 
 her out of the depths of an abounding love. 
 
 " We've missed you powerful bad, honey," she 
 said, rocking back and forth, with her eyes fixed in 
 a beaming content on the girl's face. " 'Spect they 
 didn't put much of it into the letters, but I tell you
 
 INTO THE WEST AGAIN. 255 
 
 your ma's been mighty lonesome some of the time. 
 I could see it, if the rest couldn't; and your pa you 
 could tell how he felt by the way he fretted if the 
 letters didn't come jes' so often. And 'tween you 
 'n' me he didn't like it much to have Esther stay all 
 winter, only your ma worked him round, the way 
 she has, you know. Bless your heart, if they'd wanted 
 you to stay too, dunno what would 'a' happened to 
 us. 'Spect this yer ole woman would 'a' been dead 
 'n' gone before spring. I've been pinin' for you all 
 summer." 
 
 " But I shouldn't have stayed if they had wanted 
 me," Kate said cheerfully, and then she added with a 
 mischievous twinkle in her eyes, "but really, Aunt 
 Milly, you don't look as if you had been pining. It 
 rather seems to me you've grown a little stouter since 
 we went away." 
 
 " Laws now, Miss Kate," cried Aunt Milly, " that's 
 jes' some o' your jokin'." Then, smoothing her ample 
 front with an uneasy expression, she added beseech- 
 ingly : " But you can't tell by the looks o' folks what's 
 goin' on inside of 'em. I was powerful puny a spell 
 back. Your pa'll tell you how much medicine he giv' 
 me." Then, her face brightening again : " But you or' 
 to see the way I began to pick up when the day was 
 set for you to come home. 'Feared like the misery jes'
 
 256 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 cleared out of itself, an' I reckon I did get back the 
 flesh I lost, with maybe a little more," she ended 
 serenely. 
 
 " Well, I hope the misery'll stay away for good, now 
 I've come," said Kate, laughing. The sound of voices 
 in the hall told her that a bevy of friends had come to 
 welcome her home, and with another smile at Milly she 
 was off to meet them, and to begin all over again the 
 account of her beautiful summer. 
 
 The warmth with which the Western town greets its 
 returning children is one of the pleasant things to have 
 known in one's journey through life. For the next few 
 days Kate's time was full, responding to the welcome 
 of her friends, asking and answering questions, and 
 adjusting herself again to her own place. 
 
 There was one friend for whom she inquired early, 
 and of him Mrs. Elwell brought the fullest report 
 when she brought her own greeting to the girl next 
 morning. Morton had hardly been at home all sum- 
 mer. He had been busy, first at one thing, then 
 another, as Kate knew, and now it was quite a sud- 
 den move he was with an engineering party in an 
 adjoining county. It seemed he had given some 
 special attention to surveying during the last year in 
 college, and, like everything else he gave his mind to, 
 had it so well in hand that it turned to his use and
 
 INTO THE WEST AGAIN. 
 
 advantage. The work would keep him a few weeks 
 longer, which would make him late in getting back to 
 school, but the pay was so good he had felt he must 
 make the most of his chance. She gave one of those 
 little sighs which every one understood when she talked 
 of her nephew, and then her face brightened as she 
 added, " But he'll certainly come home before he goes 
 back to college, and we shall see him before so very 
 long." 
 
 At which Kate's face brightened too. There was no 
 one now whom she wanted so much to see as Morton 
 Elwell.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE NABOB MAKES AN IMPRESSION. 
 
 IT was a divided stream in which the current of our 
 story flowed during the days that followed, and a 
 quiet stream it seemed at first after the dash and 
 sparkle of the summer. A week more and Kate was 
 busy with her books again, beginning her last year in 
 the Rushmore High School. Tom Saxon was in school 
 too, and Stella had flitted back to Boston, ready to 
 settle down in that pretty studio of hers, with her art 
 and her pupils. Esther alone was at leisure, but even 
 for her the time passed swiftly. Aunt Elsie gave her 
 a willing share in the light work of the household, and 
 her grandfather claimed her more and more as a com- 
 panion in all his goings, and a listener to his tales in 
 the lengthening evenings. 
 
 Then there were the visits to Aunt Katharine, and 
 few were the days in which they were omitted. The 
 sight of the girl always brought a smile to the face 
 of the lonely old woman. She was, if possible, more 
 kind than ever, and yet, though Esther could not 
 
 258
 
 THE NABOB MAKES AN IMPRESSION. 259 
 
 have explained it, she felt with a puzzled wonder that 
 there was somehow a difference. Not for long had 
 Aunt Katharine talked in the old passionate way of 
 those peculiar views which she held so dear and vital. 
 She seemed less eager than once to impress them, and 
 Esther noted it, resenting more and more that fancy 
 of her sister's that the proud-spirited old woman would 
 have taken undue advantage of her influence, or have 
 wished to put compulsion on another's life and thought. 
 
 It was a pity Kate did not know the true state of the 
 case. As it was she sent an anxious thought every 
 now and then in the direction of Aunt Katharine, and 
 shook her fist, metaphorically speaking, in the face of 
 those ideas which she imagined her to be always urg- 
 ing. In regard to anything else she refused to be 
 solicitous over her sister, though Tom, who actually 
 wrote a letter once a week for the first month, did his 
 best to disturb her. The " nabob " was not only call- 
 ing of tener than ever, and this in the absence of 
 Stella, but the grandfather and Esther had been 
 invited to visit at his summer home in Hartridge, a 
 visit which they had made, and, according to reports 
 on their return, enjoyed immensely. 
 
 " You can pay your money and take your choice, of 
 course," Tom wrote derisively at the end of this inter- 
 esting news, which he sent in advance of Esther her-
 
 26O WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 self, "but it's ancestors or Esther, you can count on 
 that. Maybe the young men out your way care 
 more about their great-great-grandfathers than they 
 do about girls, but in this part of the country it would 
 be safer to bet on the girl." 
 
 Kate sniffed at this, and responded promptly that 
 the young men in her part of the country, so far as 
 she was acquainted with them, didn't trouble them- 
 selves about their great-great-grandfathers at all; and 
 the mental workings of one who gave his time to 
 the business as Mr. Hadley certainly did in the 
 earlier part of the summer were beyond her. To 
 which she added what was clearly another matter 
 that even if Mr. Hadley had taken a fancy to 
 Esther, it was by no means certain that she had a 
 fancy for him. 
 
 She waited with some impatience for Esther's ac- 
 count of the visit, and the letter which came shortly 
 certainly bore out Tom's impression that she had 
 enjoyed it. It seemed that Mr. Hadley's father was 
 extremely anxious to meet Deacon Saxon, but being 
 somewhat infirm of health and indisposed for so long 
 a ride, had urgently begged the old gentleman to 
 come to him, with his granddaughter, of course, 
 and the two had taken the drive to Hartridge one 
 day with all the pleasure in life. The Hadleys' summer
 
 THE NABOB MAKES AN IMPRESSION. 26 1 
 
 home, Esther wrote, was perfectly beautiful, much 
 more so in outward aspect than the Boston house, with 
 its straight brown front, and inside it was apparently 
 a bower of loveliness. Such simple but elegant fur- 
 nishings, such devices for making summer leisure 
 redolent of rest and culture ! Ah ! It was a theme to 
 inspire her pen, and she grew fairly eloquent over it. 
 
 It appeared, too, that Mr. Hadley had been more 
 charming than ever, and his family were delightful. 
 There had been a married sister from Boston there on 
 a visit who had been more than gracious to Esther, 
 and had assured her that she should count on seeing 
 much of her during the winter. Altogether, it seemed 
 to have been an idyllic day. Kate read the letter 
 aloud to the family, then laid it down without joining 
 in the general comment. She was half vexed that 
 her sister should have had so good a time, and she 
 really wished that Mr. Philip Hadley were not quite 
 so agreeable. 
 
 But there were certain other people whose agreeable 
 qualities she did not find so exasperating. The sight 
 of one of them, coming to the house that afternoon in 
 the edge of twilight, sent her flying out to meet him 
 with a cry of delight. 
 
 " Mort Elwell ! " she exclaimed, almost running into 
 his arms; "oh, but I'm glad to see you! "
 
 262 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 "Well, you'd better believe I'm glad to see you," he 
 replied. And then they clasped hands and beamed at 
 each other for a minute like brother and sister. 
 
 " My ! how tall you're getting ! Has Esther been 
 growing like that this summer ? " he demanded, as 
 they walked together to the house. 
 
 " The first question, of course," she replied, trying 
 to pout. " I'm sure I can't tell. I don't believe there's 
 any difference in me, only you've forgotten how I 
 looked when I went away." 
 
 Forgotten ! Not he. He protested that he remem- 
 bered just how high she had come above his shoulders 
 when she stood on the threshing machine that day 
 last summer. And then they both laughed. How long 
 ago it seemed, that harvesting at the farm ! 
 
 " But it seems longer to us than to you, Mort, I know 
 it does," said the girl. " So much has happened to us, 
 and we've seen so many different places." 
 
 " I've seen a few places myself, if you please," he 
 retorted, "and there's more difference in them than 
 you'd think, especially when it comes to the eating. 
 But there are other things, besides going around, to 
 make time seem long to a body." 
 
 They welcomed him in the house with such affection- 
 ate cordiality as might have been extended to one very 
 dear and near of kin. Mrs. Northmore's eyes grew
 
 THE NABOB MAKES AN IMPRESSION. 263 
 
 bright and moist at the sight of him ; and the doctor, 
 who had stretched himself on the lounge five minutes 
 before in a state of exhaustion, declaring that nothing 
 short of a case of apoplexy could make him budge off it 
 that evening, fairly bounded across the room at the 
 sight of Morton, and shook his hand with a heartiness 
 suggestive of exuberant vitality. 
 
 " When did you get home ? " was the first question 
 when the greetings were over, and "When are you 
 going away ? " followed, without waiting for answer. 
 
 " I just got in on the train this noon," said Morton, 
 " and I'm going to-morrow morning. Can't spend any 
 time loafing, you know, for the term began a month 
 ago, and I must get there now as soon as I can." 
 
 "And you'll have back work to make up the very 
 first thing," said Mrs. Northmore. "It's too bad to 
 work so hard all summer and then start into your 
 studies at such a disadvantage." 
 
 " I think I can manage that all right," said the 
 young man, confidently. "I've got money enough to 
 make the ends meet for a while, without doing any out- 
 side work, and it won't take me long to catch up." 
 
 " Well, don't make too brilliant a run, Mort," said 
 the doctor, dryly. " I hate to see a good proverb 
 spoiled ; and all work and no play ought to make Jack 
 a dull boy, if it doesn't."
 
 264 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 " I rather think Jack's a dull boy to start with, if it 
 knocks him out in one season," said the young man, 
 laughing. 
 
 He was so modest, so manly, and his buoyant energy 
 was so refreshing, that it was no wonder they all sat 
 looking at him as if they had a personal pride in his 
 doings. 
 
 " But at least you won't have to teach school this 
 winter," said Mrs. Northmore. 
 
 " Not unless somebody relieves me of what I've 
 earned this summer," said Morton, lightly. " In that 
 case I'll speak for my old place again." 
 
 "I'll warrant they'd let you have it," said the doctor. 
 
 " Oh, they've made me the offer, already," said Mor- 
 ton ; " besides, I hold a first-grade certificate to teach 
 in that county, and I might miss it on examination 
 somewhere else." 
 
 " Not much danger of that, I fancy," said Mrs. 
 Northmore, and the doctor added, growling, " Those 
 examinations are a good deal of a humbug. For my 
 part, I think a few oral questions put to a fellow 
 straight out would be worth as much as all that 
 written stuff." He had been a county examiner once 
 himself, and had a painful remembrance of the "stuff," 
 which, to tell the truth, his wife had mostly examined 
 for him.
 
 THE NABOB MAKES AN IMPRESSION. 26$ 
 
 " I rather think an oral question that was put to me 
 helped me in my examination," said Morton, a gleam 
 of amused remembrance coming into his eyes. " Did 
 I ever tell you about that? I had just finished one 
 set of papers and gone up to the desk for another, 
 when one of the examiners, a dry, shrewd-looking 
 old fellow, leaned over and put this question to me : 
 ' When turkeys are six and three-fourths dollars per 
 dozen, how many may be had for two dollars eighty- 
 one cents and one-fourth ? ' ' 
 
 "The mean thing!" ejaculated Kate. "He didn't 
 expect you to figure that out in your head, right then 
 and there, did he ? " 
 
 "He expected an answer," said Morton, "and do 
 you know, as good luck would have it, I hit it at the 
 first shot, and gave it to him in a quarter of a minute. 
 I told him jive, and that was right." 
 
 "Well," gasped the doctor, "talk about lightning 
 calculators ! " 
 
 "But I didn't calculate it," laughed the young man. 
 " I told you 'twas luck. You see I knew the answer, 
 being turkeys, must be a whole number, and the sum 
 named was less than half the price of a dozen, so it 
 couldn't be six, and I took the chances on five. The 
 man that asked the question saw through it, of 
 course, and I believe he sort of liked me after that.
 
 266 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 But look here, who cares about county examinations 
 or what I did last winter ? I want to hear about this 
 summer, and how you liked New England. Start in, 
 Kate, and tell me everything." 
 
 "'Only that and nothing more?'" she said, lifting 
 her hands. " Why, I intend to give out my experiences 
 sparingly, and embellish my conversation with them 
 for the rest of my life. But we did have a glorious 
 time I'll tell you so much. And New England's 
 great. If you've any doubts on that point you may 
 as well give them up right here and now. It's funny, 
 some of it, of course ; the little fields, and the stone 
 walls, and the ox-teams but you get used to those 
 things, you know; and the people are nice. It's the 
 next best thing to living out here it really is to 
 live in the Old Bay State, as grandfather calls it." 
 
 And then, with an abandon which hardly tallied 
 with her avowed intention to keep some capital for 
 future use, she threw herself into the doings on the 
 old farm, the attractions of New England villages, and 
 the delights oh! the delights of Boston and the 
 sea, with his eager questions drawing her on and fresh 
 items suggesting themselves at every turn. 
 
 It lengthened itself into a long delicious evening, 
 and after a little the young people had it all to them- 
 selves, for the doctor was called off, and not to a
 
 THE NABOB MAKES AN IMPRESSION. 26/ 
 
 case of apoplexy either, only to a child who had put 
 a button into his ear; and a neighbor dropped in, to 
 whose troubles Mrs. Northmore must give her sympa- 
 thizing attention. 
 
 There was one subject on which the young man's 
 interest showed itself keen at a score of points in the 
 course of Kate's vivacious talk. Did Esther look at 
 this and that as her sister did ? Did she note the 
 contrasts with a touch of pride and pleasure in the 
 ways at home ? Was she wholly glad to stay behind ? 
 And might it not be longer than the winter, much 
 longer perhaps, before she would be at home again. 
 
 As to the last point Kate eagerly denied the danger. 
 The other questions she answered more slowly, but 
 with her usual frankness. Esther had been more in 
 love with New England than herself; she had not 
 criticised things oh, dear, she had never quar- 
 relled with anybody in behalf of her native state; 
 and she had been perfectly delighted with the invi- 
 tation to stay, there could be no doubt of that. And 
 then she was silent, her face lengthening a little, as 
 she thought of the one who gave the invitation. 
 
 The young man had listened with the closest atten- 
 tion while she talked, and he gave a little sigh when 
 she finished. " I'm afraid I shan't know as much 
 about things that are happening there now as I did
 
 268 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 before you came away," he said wistfully. "You 
 were ever so good about writing to me, Kate. I 
 haven't had but one letter since you came away." 
 
 His eyes wandered as he spoke to that letter with 
 its well-known writing lying on the table, and it was 
 not the first time since he came in that they had 
 moved in that direction. Kate noted the hungry 
 look, and felt mean. 
 
 "We had one to-day, and she is perfectly well," 
 she said uneasily. And then she would have changed 
 the subject but that Virgie, who was so little given 
 to conversation that her occasional contributions were 
 the more dangerous, spoke up just then and said it 
 was such an interesting letter, all about a visit Esther 
 had made with grandfather ; Kate had read it to them 
 all, and it was beautiful. 
 
 " Can't I hear it too ? " said Morton, boldly. 
 
 There was no help for it now, and Kate walked 
 soberly to the table. There were one or two pas- 
 sages she would certainly have left out, but Virgie, 
 who had read it three times, would be likely enough 
 to call attention to the omissions, and that would make 
 the business worse. So she went straight through it, 
 with a certain hardness of tone when allusions were 
 made to the charming qualities of Mr. Philip Hadley 
 which made them all the more emphatic.
 
 THE NABOB MAKES AN IMPRESSION. 269 
 
 Morton Elwell's eyes did not move from her face 
 as she read. Indeed, there was a tenseness about 
 his expression at moments which suggested that he 
 was holding his breath. 
 
 " So you see grandfather's taking her into all the 
 gayeties," Kate said rather nervously, as she laid 
 down the letter. " She's a wonderful favorite with 
 grandfather." 
 
 Morton drew his hand across his forehead. "This 
 Mr. Hadley is the one who went to the graveyard 
 with her, isn't he ? Esther wrote me about that." 
 
 "Yes, only 'twas Stella he was with," said Kate. 
 " Esther was with grandfather." 
 
 The exact arrangement of the party was apparently 
 not the main interest just then for Morton. " And he 
 showed you around Boston and Cambridge and those 
 other places afterward, didn't he ? " he queried. 
 
 "Yes, we did a good deal of sight-seeing together," 
 said Kate, and then she added hurriedly, "he and 
 Stella are tremendously up in art, and that's why he 
 went to some places with us. He wanted to show 
 her a picture in his own house for one thing. Maybe 
 Esther wrote you about that too." 
 
 " But he knows Stella's gone from your grandfather's 
 now, doesn't he ? " said the young man. There were 
 apparently other things besides the price of turkeys
 
 2/O WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 in regard to which he could draw quick deductions, 
 and his eyes searched Kate's at that moment with a 
 look that was straight and keen. 
 
 " I don't know but he does," she said almost pet- 
 tishly. 
 
 There was a minute's silence, and somehow it 
 occurred to Morton Elwell just then that the hour 
 was growing late. 
 
 " I must be going home," he said. " Aunt Jenny '11 
 wonder what has become of me." 
 
 He said good night to Virgie, and stopped in the 
 hall a minute for a word with Mrs. Northmore. Kate 
 was beside him. " I'll go down to the gate with 
 you," she said, as she had said many a time before, 
 and he seemed to expect it. 
 
 But when they were fairly beyond the porch, in 
 the shadows of the shrubbery, he slipped his arm 
 through hers, and said very quietly : " Kate, I wish 
 you'd tell me the truth about this Mr. Hadley. He's 
 coming to see Esther, of course. Is he in love with 
 her?" 
 
 "I don't know that he is. I never saw a thing to 
 make me think so," said Kate, with low vehemence. 
 And then (for there was a frankness in her which 
 would not let her stop there) she added: "Tom says 
 he is ; but Tom made up his mind to that right at the
 
 THE NABOB MAKES AN IMPRESSION. 271 
 
 start, and he's the most obstinate boy I ever saw 
 about his own opinions. He never changes his mind, 
 no matter what good reasons you may show him on 
 the other side." 
 
 The idiosyncrasies of Tom Saxon were not interest- 
 ing just then to Morton Elwell. Kate heard him 
 draw his breath hard before he said : " Of course 
 he's in love with her. He's been seeing her all 
 summer, and he couldn't help being. And she" 
 he paused for an instant before he added bitterly : 
 " I understand it now. It's knowing him that made 
 her so willing to stay." 
 
 "Oh, no it isn't, Mort; indeed it isn't," said Kate, 
 bringing him to a standstill with a compelling press- 
 ure on his arm. " If you knew everything, you 
 wouldn't say that. It was Aunt Katharine that made 
 her stay. Oh, if you knew Aunt Katharine ! She's 
 a dreadfully strong-minded woman, and she's taken 
 a terrible fancy to Esther. She'd like to make her 
 feel just as she does about woman's rights, and 
 never marrying, and all that sort of thing. She's the 
 one, not Mr. Hadley at all, that has such an influ- 
 ence over Esther." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said Morton Elwell ; and he said it 
 with a sharpness that for an instant made Kate 
 almost afraid of him.
 
 2/2 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 There was silence for a minute as they moved down 
 the path. Then, with the sharpness gone out of his 
 voice and the bitterness overflowing it again, he said : 
 "I don't wonder at it. He's rich and agreeable, 
 you wrote that yourself, Kate. He's all that's delight- 
 ful and cultivated, she says so in the letter. He 
 has everything and and time to be with her," he 
 added, with a groan. " She can't help caring for 
 him. I know it as if I were there to see." 
 
 They had reached the great horse-chestnut tree by 
 the gate, and the moonlight came down through the 
 half-leafless branches on the girl's face lifted to his. 
 " Oh, it won't be the way you think, Mort," she 
 whispered passionately. " Esther can't care for Mr. 
 Hadley. I'm sure, I'm sure she can't!" 
 
 " Why can't she ? " he asked, and his face looked 
 pale and stern. 
 
 She caught her breath with a sob. "Because 
 oh, Mort because you're so much nicer!" she said, 
 with an utter abandon. And then her head dropped, 
 and a splash of tears fell on his coat-sleeve. 
 
 He stooped suddenly and kissed her ; then, without 
 even a good night, strode off down the road. 
 
 It lay before him straight and empty in the moon- 
 light ; and he followed it past the turn that led to 
 his uncle's house, on and on, taking no note of dis-
 
 THE NABOB MAKES AN IMPRESSION. 2/3 
 
 tance. This fear which had come to him so sud- 
 denly it seemed already not a possibility but a 
 certainty, and it stalked at his side, keeping even 
 step with his. He had no vanity to whisper that 
 there were other attractions besides those which for- 
 tune had bestowed so lavishly on Mr. Philip Hadley. 
 He had been too busy all his life, and such gifts as 
 he had were too inherently part of his nature for 
 him to turn an observant eye upon them and mark 
 their value. He seemed to himself a homely, hum- 
 drum fellow beside this other who had stepped so 
 lightly into Esther Northmore's life. There was envy 
 enough in his heart, Heaven knew ; but it some- 
 how withheld the thought that wealth was accidental, 
 culture acquired, poor things at best beside that 
 inner something which makes the man. They were 
 good gifts. He hoped to prove it for himself by 
 and by, and that other something How if Mr. 
 Philip Hadley were rich in that, too ? 
 
 But was it fair, was it fair that he, to whom only 
 a summer pleasuring had brought acquaintance with 
 Esther Northmore, should steal her away from one 
 who had loved her so long? His heart ran swiftly 
 over the past, and a lump rose in his throat as 
 memory brought back those early days. She was 
 five years old, he seven, when he came to his 
 T
 
 2/4 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 uncle's house, a lonesome, homesick boy. He remem- 
 bered how she came across the fields with her mother, 
 on that first afternoon, in her little red shoes and 
 white apron, a dainty figure, with gentle ways and 
 soft, loving eyes. He remembered how she had slid 
 her hand into his and whispered she was sorry his 
 mother was dead. And then they had played to- 
 gether, he drawing her about in his little cart; and 
 before he knew it the long day was ending and a 
 sense of being at home had stolen into his heart. 
 That was the beginning, and what friends they had 
 been through the childish years that followed ! He 
 remembered how he bought her a carnelian ring once 
 at the county fair. The ring had broken next day, 
 and she had wept scalding tears. Alas, there was 
 no dime left to buy another, but he had promised that 
 she should have a gold one sometime, with a shining 
 stone at the top, and she had been comforted with 
 this, and promised to wait. 
 
 Ah, one could not bear such memories as this. He 
 thrust it down and swallowed fiercely at the lump in 
 his throat, which seemed his heart itself swollen to 
 bursting. But other pictures came : the growing girl, 
 so willing to take his help, so quick to give her own, 
 so proud of all his successes. They had gone through 
 the district school side by side, he only a class ahead,
 
 THE NABOB MAKES AN IMPRESSION. 2/5 
 
 though older, for his chance to begin had come later 
 than hers. How many times he had worked her 
 problems for her, how often he had gone over his 
 boyish debates and speeches with her for listener, 
 on the way to school, or in her father's orchard when 
 his chores were done, sure that he had made his 
 pleading well when the tears sprang into her eyes, 
 and the quick responsive color flushed and paled in 
 her cheeks ! What would any work he could do, 
 or any triumph he could ever win, be worth to him 
 if she had ceased to care ? 
 
 There had been a difference in her, he had marked 
 it uneasily, slow as he was in the steadfast loyalty of 
 his own thoughts to guess at change in hers, but he 
 had said to himself it was because they had been 
 apart too much, she at boarding school, he at college. 
 It would all be as it had been when they could see 
 each other again in the old way. That they belonged 
 to each other was a thing he had held so simply and 
 of course that the fear of losing her had never till 
 now really entered his heart. 
 
 And then, with a passionate protest, he felt him- 
 self writing to her, telling her of his love and calling 
 her back ; but swift chilling doubts overtook the im- 
 pulse. If she had forgotten, slipped away from all 
 this of the past, could any word of his, across the cruel
 
 2/6 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 distance, call her back ? He had no art with his pen, 
 and what would the poor meagre page be worth beside 
 the living presence of this new, delightful friend ? 
 
 The bitterness gathered like a flood in his heart, 
 and all its waves and billows went over him. He 
 knew nothing of the beauty of the night nor the way 
 he was taking. He had no sense of outward things, 
 when his name was called suddenly behind him. 
 
 " Mort Elwell ! Well, upon my word ! I thought 
 'twas you, and then I thought it couldn't be. When 
 did I ever catch up with you before, on a straight 
 road, with you well in the start ? " 
 
 The young man turned at the voice, and for a 
 moment stared blankly at the speaker. It was the 
 New Light preacher, his friend of many years, his 
 comrade in the labors of the early summer. The 
 long loose figure bent eagerly toward him, and the 
 sallow face shone in the flooding moonlight. It was 
 impossible, at any pass of melancholy, not to find a 
 moment's pleasure in so warm a greeting. 
 
 " I declare I didn't hear you coming up," said the 
 young man. " I was taking my time to it, and wasn't 
 looking for company." 
 
 " No, I reckon not," said the preacher, smiling. " It's 
 toler'ble late, if you happen to know it, and you're a 
 little out of your own bailiwick, aren't you ? "
 
 THE NABOB MAKES AN IMPRESSION. 2/7 
 
 " Over in yours ? " said Morton, noting for the first 
 time how far he had gone. " Well, it's rather late for 
 you too, isn't it ? " 
 
 "Yes," said the preacher; "but I've been over at 
 old man Towner's. He's having one of his bad spells, 
 and this time he won't pull through. I reckon he'll be 
 done with living here in a few days more." 
 
 " Well, it's something to be through with," said the 
 young man. He had spoken more to fill the pause 
 than for anything else, but there was a dreary note in 
 his voice which fell strangely on the ear of the other. 
 
 "You, Mort!" he exclaimed, and his eyes searched 
 the face of his companion for a moment curiously. It 
 looked tired and worn. " Just through your work ? " he 
 asked. " When did you get in ? " 
 
 " Finished my job yesterday," said Morton, " and 
 am here just long enough to pick up my things. Shall 
 go to-morrow morning." 
 
 " And start in for another stiff year's work," said the 
 preacher. " Well, Mort, you've made a summer of it. 
 I hope things '11 ease up for you sometime, and they 
 will, they will." 
 
 The young man lifted his head with an impatient 
 movement. " I wish people wouldn't pity me for hav- 
 ing to work," he said. " I don't care how hard I work. 
 It's the easiest thing there is."
 
 2/8 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 Some fine wrinkles had gathered in the preacher's 
 forehead. " Yes," he said, with his eyes still on 
 Morton's face. " It's a good deal easier than wanting 
 work and not getting it, for instance. Plenty of folks 
 could tell you that." 
 
 There was a touch of contempt mingled now with the 
 impatience in Morton's voice. " I never was a bit afraid 
 but I could get all the work I wanted," he said. " Give 
 me my head and hands, and I'll take care of that." 
 
 " And not be so proud of yourself for doing it maybe, 
 when you get to my age," said the preacher. Then 
 dropping into his bit of a drawl, he added : " But there 
 are things that ain't so easy to come by, eh, Mort ? It's 
 a fact, man. But 'Faint-heart never won fair lady,' 
 nor anything else worth having." 
 
 A flush rose in Morton's face and he sent a quick 
 look at the preacher. The shrewd gray eyes were look- 
 ing at him kindly. 
 
 "And Stout-heart doesn't win them either, some- 
 times," he said bitterly. 
 
 "Oh, it's chance, it's chance, the way things happen ! " 
 
 The preacher laid his hand on the young fellow's 
 shoulder. " No, Mort," he said with a peculiar gen- 
 tleness in his voice, " Stout-heart doesn't win them 
 always. We fail of them sometimes with all our 
 trying. God knows how I've wanted some things
 
 THE NABOB MAKES AN IMPRESSION. 2/9 
 
 I've missed. But there's one thing we needn't miss, 
 the Lord himself stands to that, courage to meet 
 what comes, strength to go without, if we must, 
 and not be broken by it." 
 
 The young man stopped in his walk and faced 
 the other. " Strength ! " he cried, almost fiercely. 
 "To do without the things that make everything 
 else worth having ! Where is one to get it ? You 
 could hunt for work I'd take my chances on finding 
 that but this!" 
 
 He set his teeth hard, and the preacher felt the 
 strong young figure grow tense under his hand. He 
 drew himself up, and his eyes held the boy's with a 
 compelling earnestness. 
 
 "Where are you to get it, Mort? " he said solemnly. 
 " From the One that gave you what strength you've 
 got. Do you think He bankrupted Himself giving 
 you and me the little sense, the little power that's 
 in us ? I tell you there's more ; there's enough for 
 every soul of us. Cry to Him for it. Open your 
 eyes and open your heart. It's here, it's there, it's 
 all around us. And it's ours for the having." 
 
 He stretched out his arms as he spoke with a wide 
 reverent gesture, and his plain awkward face looked 
 noble as he lifted it toward the sky. 
 
 They stood together for a long still minute with-
 
 28O WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 out speaking. He had broken in upon an hour of 
 solitary wrestling ; the older man knew it, and he 
 shrank back now from his intrusion. Suddenly he 
 turned away. " It's a little shorter for me across 
 the fields, Mort, and I'll leave you here," he said. 
 "Good night, and God bless you." 
 
 It was past midnight when Morton Elwell opened 
 the door of his uncle's house. A light was burning 
 in the sitting room, and his aunt rose as he entered, 
 dropping from her lap the work with which she had 
 been filling the time while she waited. 
 
 " What, were you sitting up for me, Aunt Jenny ? " 
 he said, as she met him. 
 
 " It's a long time since I had a chance to sit up 
 for you, Mort," she said tenderly. And then she 
 added, with a gentle reproach in her voice, " Don't 
 you think you ought to be taking a little more rest 
 to-night, when you start so early to-morrow ? " 
 
 " I'm going to bed right now," he said. Then he 
 put his arm around her neck in the old affectionate 
 way, as he added, " A fellow has a deal to be thank- 
 ful for that's had such an auntie as you are to take 
 care of him all these years." 
 
 And with that manly word, and a little quiver at his 
 lips, he mounted the stairs to his own room.
 
 M 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 ESTHER GOES TO PRAYER-MEETING. 
 
 EAN WHILE autumn was gliding away at the 
 old farm. It was worth Esther Northmore's 
 while, as Aunt Katharine had suggested, to have 
 seen October in her mother's country. Even Old 
 Timers, used to the glory that wrapped its hills in 
 the shortening days, doubted gravely whether they 
 had ever known a fall when the woods wore such 
 gorgeous coloring as now, or kept their royal robes 
 so long. All the world seemed flaming in crimson 
 and gold, with fringes of purple at the roadsides, and 
 Esther, walking joyously in the midst, felt her pulses 
 beating to a rhythm she had never caught before in 
 the swinging of the round old world. Her grand- 
 father was no poet ; but he liked to see the girl 
 come in with her face glowing and her hands full of 
 leaves, which always seemed to her more beautiful 
 than any she had ever found before. Sometimes he 
 was moved to remind her that this, too, was "vanity," 
 
 281
 
 282 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 one of earth's passing shows, but she protested 
 against this, and told him it would never pass for her. 
 She should keep it as long as she had life and 
 memory. 
 
 Very often in these shining days came Mr. Philip 
 Hadley ; once to urge that pleasant invitation, then 
 to make sure that his friends had returned from the 
 trip in safety ; once to bring her a book she had 
 wanted, and at last to say good-by to Ruel Saxon. 
 The Hadleys were about to leave their summer home. 
 With the approach of November it was time to be 
 back in the city. There had been an eager look in 
 his eyes as he added, turning to Esther, " You will 
 be going about the same time." And he had kept 
 her hand longer than usual at the door as he said, 
 " It has been delightful to see you in this lovely 
 old home, but we shall see each other much oftener 
 in Boston, I hope. I can't tell you how glad I am 
 that you are going to be there." 
 
 She had dropped her eyes, that easy color rising 
 in her face as he spoke, and then he had said, 
 " Good-by for a little while," with a very earnest 
 pressure of the hand in his, and ridden away. 
 
 It was late when he left, but she slipped out of 
 the house immediately for a walk, and for once there 
 were no leaves in her hand when she came back.
 
 IT HAS BEEN DELIGHTFUL TO SEE YOU IN THIS LOVELY OLD HOME.
 
 ESTHER GOES TO PRAYER-MEETING. 283 
 
 " It looked like rain," she said, when Tom remarked 
 that she had stopped short of her favorite woods. 
 
 It did not look so much like rain but that Ruel 
 Saxon went as usual to the prayer-meeting that night, 
 and of course Esther went with him. It was one of 
 the standing engagements for every week. Perhaps 
 the girl could have spared it sometimes there were 
 few young people there but she never declined to 
 accompany her grandfather. As for him, it was a 
 place he loved ; a spot in which his own gifts shone 
 conspicuous, and in which it must be confessed he 
 sometimes appropriated more than his fair share of 
 the time. Why Christian people did not all and 
 always go to prayer-meeting was one of the things 
 he could not understand, and it really seemed to him 
 a surprising omission that there was not an explicit 
 command in the Bible laying the duty upon them. 
 However, he consoled himself with the admonition 
 "not forsaking the assembling of yourselves together, 
 as the manner of some is," to which favorite quota- 
 tion he frequently added that he should not forsake 
 the assembling of himself together as long as he 
 was able to be there. 
 
 There really was some doubt in Aunt Elsie's mind 
 to-night as to the last point. The old gentleman 
 seemed to have all the premonitory symptoms of a
 
 284 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 cold, but he would have scorned to stay at home for 
 a trifle of that sort, and started in good time on the 
 long ride to the village. He bore his part in the 
 meeting with unusual unction, and a number of 
 the brothers and sisters took his hand at the close 
 to thank him impressively for his beautiful remarks. 
 It was a form of flattery which he dearly loved. 
 
 Then, as he jogged home behind Dobbin with 
 Esther, he fell to talking, in reminiscent mood, of 
 his own long services in the church, and this, mak- 
 ing all due allowance for that cheerful vanity, which 
 he had never been at pains to conceal, was a subject 
 on which Ruel Saxon, if any man, had some right 
 to grow eloquent. Ministers might come and minis- 
 ters might go, but, as deacon of the church in Est- 
 erly, he had gone on, if not forever, at least so long 
 that few could remember when he had not held and 
 magnified the office. He had sat on councils to re- 
 ceive and dismiss, he had contended for the faith, he 
 had poured oil on troubled waters ; in short, in all the 
 offices of peace and war, he had stood at his post, 
 and none could name the day when he had shirked 
 its duties. 
 
 "I've seen some strange doings in my time," he said, 
 after one of his pauses, "and I tell you there's as 
 much human nature among church members as there
 
 ESTHER GOES TO PRAYER-MEETING. 285 
 
 is among outsiders. Sometimes I've thought 'twas be- 
 cause they needed grace worse than most folks that the 
 Lord elected some of 'em. I've been called on to set- 
 tle quarrels among professors that would astonish you ; 
 and I've had a hand in their love affairs too, once or 
 twice, when they got things so tangled up that they 
 couldn't straighten 'em out for themselves," he added 
 with a little chuckle. 
 
 " Love affairs ! " repeated Esther, catching at the 
 chance of a story. "Why, how was that? Do tell me 
 one of them, grandfather." 
 
 He clucked to Dobbin, drew his hand across his face 
 in the meditative way that suggested a stroking of 
 memory, and began slowly : 
 
 " I guess the queerest one I ever had anything to do 
 with, and the one that bothered me most in my own 
 mind, was that affair between Jotham Radley and those 
 two girls. You see they were both bound to have him ; 
 and for the life of him he couldn't seem to settle on 
 which one it should be." 
 
 " They were bound to have him?" ejaculated Esther. 
 She bad heard of two lovers to one lady, but this sort 
 of a case was new in her acquaintance. 
 
 " Well, I don't know as I or' to say they were," said 
 the old gentleman, correcting himself. "It was Huldy's 
 mother on one side, and 'twas Polly herself on the
 
 286 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 other. You see, Jotham had been keeping company 
 a good while with Huldy, and folks gener'ly thought 
 'twas a match between them, but he got to carrying on 
 with Polly Green 'bout the time he was building her 
 father's barn. I always thought she must have led him 
 on. He was a wonderful easy man to be pulled round 
 by women folks, and Polly was a smart girl, there's no 
 denying that. 
 
 " Well, it began to be common talk that they were 
 engaged, and then Huldy's folks spoke out and said 
 'twas no such thing ; it was all settled between him and 
 Huldy long ago, and her mother showed the linen she'd 
 spun and the bed quilts she'd pieced for housekeeping. 
 It got to be a good deal of a scandal, for Jotham was 
 clerk of the church, and some folks, specially the 
 women, thought it or' to be stopped. So we deacons 
 talked it over together, and then two of us went to see 
 Jotham and asked him how it was about it. He didn't 
 say much, one way or t'other acted sort o' queer 'n' 
 shame-faced ; but he agreed the talk or' to be stopped, 
 and said he'd have it settled in a week. 
 
 " I guess he found it harder to settle than he counted 
 on, for Polly was a dreadful spirited girl, and Huldy's 
 mother was the kind that couldn't be put off. Anyhow, 
 instead of easing up, the talk kept getting louder, and 
 Jotham didn't show his face in the meeting-house for
 
 ESTHER GOES TO PRAYER-MEETING. 28 / 
 
 two Sundays. Well, the deacons felt that he was 
 trifling with 'em, and that time we went in a body to 
 deal with him. 
 
 " Deacon Simms did the bulk of the talking, and 
 he told Jotham pretty straight what he thought about 
 a man's whiffling round between two girls as he did, 
 and then he told him if he couldn't settle the busi- 
 ness for himself the church would have to settle it 
 for him. At that Jotham spoke out like a man dis- 
 tracted, and said he wished to goodness we would. 
 I asked him if he'd abide by our decision, and he 
 said he'd abide by anything the girls would. 
 
 " I must say I didn't much like the business, but we 
 went the next day to see the girls. Polly cried, and 
 took on, and according to her account Jotham had cer- 
 tainly said some wonderful pointed things for a man 
 that didn't know his own mind. As for Huldy, she 
 looked sick and scared, and 'twas much as we could 
 do to get a word out of her. Her mother was ready 
 enough to talk, but Jotham warn't engaged to her 
 anyhow, and I stood to it that we couldn't settle the 
 thing by the way she looked at it. I always suspi- 
 cioned that if Huldy'd spoke up and freed her mind, 
 she might have made out the best case, but she 
 wouldn't do it. 
 
 " Seemed as if she didn't want to commit him, and
 
 288 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 the other deacons thought 'twas a clear case he 
 ought to marry Polly. It sort of 'peared to me that 
 it or' to be Huldy, but of course I couldn't prove it, 
 and anyway 'twas three to one. So I gave in to the 
 rest, and to settle all the talk, we had Jotham and 
 Polly published in church the next Sunday. They 
 did say Jotham turned dreadful white when they told 
 him how we'd settled it, but he married Polly at the 
 set time, and as far as I know they always got along 
 well together." 
 
 "What become of Huldah?" queried Esther. 
 
 "Huldy?" said the deacon, reflecting. "Well, she 
 stayed single till she must have been upward of 
 thirty ; then she married a widower, and everybody 
 said 'twas a good match." 
 
 There was silence for some time, then Esther said, 
 with her eyes on the sky, over which the clouds were 
 shifting uneasily, " Grandfather, do you think a person 
 could have any doubt in his own mind as to which one 
 of two people he cared for most, if if he was really 
 in love with either of them ? " 
 
 " I ain't sure but he might," said the deacon, slowly. 
 " It takes a good while to get acquainted with folks, 
 and I don't know but it's about as hard sometimes 
 to know your own mind, as 'tis to know anybody 
 else's even if 'tis inside of you." And then he
 
 ESTHER GOES TO PRAYER-MEETING. 289 
 
 added briskly, " But it start's to reason that a man 
 or' to have a care how far he goes before he gets 
 things cleared up." 
 
 She seemed not to hear the last remark. " But if you 
 had known a person for a long, long time," she said 
 insistently, "there couldn't be any doubt then, could 
 there ? " 
 
 Again, like the wise man he was, the deacon 
 answered slowly, " Well, a body or' to get his mind 
 made up in a reasonable length of time," he said. 
 " There was Nathan Weyler went to see Patty Foster 
 every Saturday night for thirty years before he asked 
 her to marry him. I should call that slow ! But there 
 is such a thing as seeing so much of folks being so 
 close to 'em, you know that you don't really get as 
 good a sight at 'em as you would if they were farther off. 
 It's getting your attention drawn somewhere else, and 
 seeing what's in other folks sometimes, that wakes you 
 up to what there is in those you thought you knew best" 
 
 Esther, whose eyes had been fixed on her grand- 
 father's face intently during this reply, looked suddenly 
 back at the sky. She had thought there were no stars 
 to-night, but she was aware, all at once, that there were 
 four or five shining straight before her. Had they all 
 come out in the last moment, or was it an illustration 
 of what he had just been saying ?
 
 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 Her voice shook a little, and she did not look at her 
 grandfather as she asked her next question. " But if 
 it came to you that there was more in somebody than 
 you had realized if you saw more to admire than you 
 ever did before tJiat wouldn't be enough, would it ? I 
 mean, it wouldn't be right to marry for anything but 
 love, would it?" She broke suddenly off, then began 
 again with a nervous, half-incoherent swiftness. " That 
 man, for instance, that you were telling me about, and 
 Huldah. If he had just felt sorry for her, and it kept 
 coming to him all the time that he hated to leave her, 
 because because he had known her so long, and he 
 knew it would be hard for her, and she was so good and 
 true all that wouldn't be enough to make him marry 
 her, would it ? " 
 
 Strange that she should be so deeply stirred over that 
 old story of so long ago ! Her hands trembled so much 
 that she had to press them together to hold them still 
 when she had finished. 
 
 He was a keen-witted man, Ruel Saxon. Perhaps it 
 may have crossed his mind at that moment that he was 
 being called once more, at this late hour of his life, to 
 lend a hand in straightening out some tangled skein of 
 love, but if so he did not reveal it. 
 
 " No," he said distinctly, " no ; there's nothing else 
 but love will do. It's all that's strong enough to last,
 
 ESTHER GOES TO PRAYER-MEETING. 2QI 
 
 and it's a long, long thing, giving your promise to 
 marry." 
 
 And then that shrewd reflective note crept into his 
 voice again as he added : " But if it kept coming to a 
 body the way you speak of, to be thinking of somebody 
 else all the time, and be sorry for them, and all that, I 
 should be a little mite doubtful if there wasn't some- 
 thing after all besides pity at the bottom of it. A body 
 wouldn't keep on so very long being sorry for one 
 person, if he was right down in love with another. 
 He'd forget about that one before he knew it. It's like 
 Aaron's rod, you see. Some things get swallowed up 
 terrible quick when the one that's bigger and more alive 
 stretches itself out among "em." 
 
 She did not ask any more questions. She kept her 
 eyes on the stars for a long time after that. And her 
 grandfather spoke to Dobbin presently in a tone of im- 
 patience. " Get up ; get up ; it's time we were home long 
 ago." 
 
 It was certainly later than usual when they drew up 
 at the door. Aunt Elsie opened it, looking out rather 
 anxiously when the wheels of the carriage stopped. " I 
 guess we've been a little longer than common on the 
 way, we've had so much to talk about," said the old 
 gentleman, cheerfully. Then, as he got down from the 
 carriage, and left it in the hands of Tom, who stood
 
 292 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 ready with the lantern, he added, stretching himself, "I 
 declare, I feel sort o' chilly and stiff in the joints. 
 Mebbe I'd better have a little sup of something warm 
 before I get into bed." 
 
 Esther had thought that would be the last time of 
 going to prayer-meeting with her grandfather, and 
 so it proved, but not because she had taken her flight 
 before the next Wednesday evening came. Perhaps 
 it was a cold settling upon him with the raw gray 
 weather which November ushered in, but he was 
 feverish next morning, and kept the house, complain- 
 ing of draughts which no one else felt, and a little 
 querulous, as he was apt to be when anything ailed 
 that outer man in whose general soundness he took 
 such pride. 
 
 For three days he sat by the fire, swallowing boneset 
 tea in quantities and of a degree of bitterness which 
 filled the household, especially Esther, with admiration; 
 but he sternly rejected Aunt Elsie's suggestion that he 
 should send for a physician, being in practice disposed 
 to the opinion that a man had no use for a doctor until 
 he had reached the point where the chances were against 
 a doctor or any one else being able to help him. He 
 was in something of a strait, however, when Sunday 
 came and he was clearly unable to attend church. To 
 admit the gravity of his case by sending for a medical
 
 ESTHER GOES TO PRAYER-MEETING. 2Q3 
 
 man was one thing, but to absent himself from the 
 house of God, unless such state of gravity existed, was 
 another ; and between the two horns of the dilemma he 
 tossed painfully all the morning. In the end Aunt 
 Elsie settled it, and she was quite willing that he should 
 take what grumbling comfort he could in representing 
 himself as a martyr to feminine insistence when the 
 doctor appeared. 
 
 Evidently the latter did not think he had been called 
 too soon. He sent his patient promptly to bed, and 
 now, having advertised himself as sick, the old gentle- 
 man obeyed orders with the meekness of a lamb. It 
 would be only a few days, of course ; but while it lasted 
 he meant to make the most of his case, and take his full 
 dues in the way of sympathy and attention. 
 
 That the minister would come promptly was 
 certain, and there would be opportunity for testing 
 the fidelity of his brother deacons to the duty of 
 visiting the sick and afflicted. Undoubtedly there 
 would be prayers sent up in his behalf from the 
 pulpit and at the Wednesday evening prayer-meeting, 
 and let us not judge the good man too severely! 
 his own gift in prayer was of no common order 
 he really hoped the petitions would be well expressed. 
 As for his own family, it went without saying that 
 they would wait upon him with unfailing attention,
 
 294 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 while he lay, as he plaintively expressed it, on his 
 "bed of pain and languishment " ; and feminine at- 
 tentions were dear to the soul of Ruel Saxon. 
 
 He did not have to suggest to Esther that she 
 should delay her departure for Boston. Indeed, it is 
 possible that he forgot her plans altogether, and she 
 remembered them herself only to say quietly to Aunt 
 Elsie, " I shall stay, of course, till he is better. I 
 couldn't think of leaving him now, and perhaps I 
 can be some help to you in taking care of him." 
 
 Aunt Elsie was not an effusive woman, but the 
 tone in which she said, " It'll be a real comfort to 
 have you here," made the girl look happy. She 
 meant to slip across the fields later in the day and 
 tell Aunt Katharine that her going had been post- 
 poned, but her grandfather grew restless as the day 
 wore on, and seemed to feel neglected if some one 
 were not constantly at his side. 
 
 " I really think Aunt Katharine ought to know it," 
 she said at supper, and Tom, who was sitting at the 
 table, responded promptly, " I'll go and tell her, if 
 you want me to." 
 
 "Will you?" she said eagerly. "Thank you, Tom. 
 Tell her I'll come down and see her myself as soon 
 as grandfather gets a little better." 
 
 " And don't let her feel too much worried about
 
 ESTHER GOES TO PRAYER-MEETING. 2Q5 
 
 him," cautioned his mother. "He isn't any worse 
 than he was last week, only he's in bed, and that 
 makes him seem worse." 
 
 "All right," said Tom, "I'll go as soon as I'm 
 through milking." 
 
 Esther thanked him again, though in her heart 
 she would rather he had proposed to spend an hour 
 in his grandfather's room. It was several days since 
 she had seen Aunt Katharine, and she would have 
 liked a little chat in the pleasant living-room, where 
 that big wood stove had been set up, and the win- 
 dows were growing gay with old-fashioned chrys- 
 anthemums. They were the only flowers she ever 
 kept in her windows, and she excused her partiality 
 for these on a whimsical plea of pity. 
 
 "They count on being taken in," she said one 
 day, when Esther came upon her in the garden pot- 
 ting them for the winter. "They know they can't 
 do half their blossoming outdoors at this time o' 
 year, but that's the way they time it every season. 
 Look at those buds, thick as spatter, and they won't 
 half of 'em have a chance to show their color unless 
 somebody goes to the trouble of taking 'em in and 
 doing for 'em. I hate to see things go so far and 
 
 then make a fizzle of it." And she had pressed the 
 
 * 
 earth about their roots in the big stone jars with
 
 296 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 a carefulness of touch and a look of exasperated 
 patience which the girl had enjoyed immensely. 
 
 The friendship which to others seemed so odd 
 seemed to her now the most natural thing in the world, 
 and more and more she valued it. Once, in the sore- 
 ness of that clash with Kate, she had poured out her 
 heart to her mother. Perhaps Kate had done so too 
 in the days that followed her return; but the reply 
 which Mrs. Northmore made had cleared the atmos- 
 phere for Esther, at least, and left the intimacy free 
 and untroubled. 
 
 " My dear child," she wrote, " I am sure you will not 
 believe that I share your sister's uneasiness over your 
 friendship with Aunt Katharine. The questions over 
 which she has brooded so long are real and vital, and 
 I am not sorry that you should come to know them 
 through knowing one who holds her views upon them 
 with such deep and unselfish earnestness as your Aunt 
 Katharine. A braver or truer heart than hers I have 
 never known. But it must have occurred to you if not, 
 it surely will later that she sees only one side of some 
 of the great facts of our woman's life. The reformer who 
 sees only one side of any question is needed, no doubt, 
 to startle others into recognition of facts they would 
 otherwise miss, but in the end the reform must depend 
 on those who see both sides, and see them with steady
 
 ESTHER GOES TO PRAYER-MEETING. 
 
 fairness. If your life shall be as happy as I hope it 
 may be, I cannot think you will permanently hold some 
 of Aunt Katharine's opinions; but meanwhile I would 
 not have you shut your heart to her or her word. Oh, 
 believe me, my dear, there is no eye-opener in the 
 world like love." 
 
 The old woman was drawing the shades behind the 
 chrysanthemums in the windows when Tom came to 
 her house in the dusk of that evening. He had ex- 
 pected to deliver his message at the door, but she 
 insisted on his coming in and rendering it with careful 
 detail. Certainly he did not err on the side against 
 which his mother had cautioned him. Indeed, if the 
 old gentleman had heard his grandson's statement of 
 his case he would probably have felt a strong inclina- 
 tion to get out of bed and go to his sister's at once for 
 the express purpose of telling her that he was much 
 worse than the boy had represented. 
 
 Tom was not inclined to anxieties, and a certain 
 inquisitorial attitude which his grandfather had main- 
 tained during the past few days as to his own work 
 at the barn, and the amount of care which Dobbin 
 was receiving, had left the impression on his mind 
 that his grandfather was not suffering as much as he 
 might be. 
 
 He revealed this to some extent as he answered
 
 298 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 Aunt Katharine's questions, and she, after putting 
 them sharply for a few minutes, settled back in her 
 chair with an air of evident relief. She was not 
 surprised to learn that Esther had put off her going 
 to Boston. " I should know she'd do it," she said, 
 nodding, and she added, with a peculiar smile, " I 
 s'pose your grandfather hated dreadful bad to disap- 
 point her." 
 
 Tom disclaimed any knowledge on this head, and 
 then remarked acutely, " He'll keep her busy enough 
 while she stays. He doesn't seem to want her out of 
 his sight a minute." 
 
 " Hm," said Miss Saxon. " I'll warrant he'd keep 
 'em all busy if they were there." And then she 
 remarked casually, " It must seem sort of quiet at 
 your house compared with what 'twas this summer." 
 
 " Kate was the liveliest one," said Tom, and he said 
 it with such a tone of regret that his aunt looked at 
 him keenly. 
 
 "You liked her, did you?" she asked. 
 
 Perhaps his secret knowledge of that interview in 
 which she had worsted Kate, and an impression that 
 she had a special grudge against the girl, inclined 
 him to the unusual emphasis with which he answered 
 the question. 
 
 " I never saw a girl I liked so well in my life," he
 
 ESTHER GOES TO PRAYER-MEETING. 
 
 said. " She's made of the right sort of stuff, and she's 
 game clear through." 
 
 " Hm," grunted Miss Saxon again, beginning to 
 look very much interested. " I understand you 'n' 
 she did a sight of quarrelling. She generally got 
 ahead of you, didn't she ? " 
 
 " No marm, she didn't," said Tom, promptly. " I 
 generally got ahead of her, only she'd never own it." 
 
 Aunt Katharine laughed. If anything could please 
 her more than to have a girl get the best of a con- 
 troversy it was to know that she had kept on after 
 getting the worst. She had always approved the 
 spirit of those old Britons, of whom Caesar complained 
 that they never knew when they were beaten. 
 
 " What do you mean by saying she's made of the 
 right sort of stuff?" she asked suddenly. 
 
 "Why, I mean," said Tom, hesitating a little, he 
 was not analytical in his turn of mind, "I mean 
 she's plucky, and she's out-and-out about everything. 
 I'd trust her as quick as I would a boy." 
 
 "As quick as you would a boy!" repeated Aunt 
 Katharine, bristling ; " what do you mean by that, I'd 
 like to know." 
 
 Tpm had not come for a controversy with Aunt 
 Katharine, and she really looked a little dangerous 
 at that moment. But he remembered suddenly that
 
 3OO WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 word of Kate's, that the old woman's manner didn't 
 " faze " her, after the first, and he determined, as far 
 as in him lay, not to be fazed either. 
 
 "Why, I didn't mean anything bad," he said, draw- 
 ing a little nearer the edge of his chair, " but there's 
 a difference, you know. At least you would know if 
 you were a boy. Most girls are sort of sly when 
 they want to get anything out of you, and they do 
 things they wouldn't think were fair for you to do. 
 But she wasn't that way. She always let you know 
 what she was up to, and when it came to fighting she 
 struck right out from the shoulder. But I wasn't blam- 
 ing the rest of 'em. I guess it's all right, being girls," 
 he added, rising and beginning to move toward the door. 
 
 Aunt Katharine rose too, and brought her cane down 
 on the floor with a sharp thud. "That's it ! " she said, 
 fiercely. " Boys 'n' men, you're all alike, and you've 
 got the notion already. You act as if we women folks 
 were weaker creatures than you are. You make us 
 think we are ; and then you look for all the tricks that 
 weaker creatures use when they defend themselves. It 
 serves you right if we do use 'em. But it's a lie all the 
 same, for both of us." 
 
 She drew her lips hard, then, as she saw his hand on 
 the knob of the door, she said, " Tell your grandfather 
 I'll be up to see him to-morrow."
 
 ESTHER GOES TO PRAYER MEETING. 3OI 
 
 She did not keep the promise. The rain, which had 
 been threatening for days, falling now and then in 
 drizzling showers, then stopping again, as if, though 
 still in sullen mood, some vacillating purpose held it, 
 settled down at last for steady work. There was a 
 week of leaden days, with the rain beating out all that 
 was left of the color in the woods, and changing the 
 world into one brown monotony which melancholy 
 seemed to have marked for her own. 
 
 And through it all, at the old house, Ruel Saxon kept 
 his bed, and as the days went on grew no better. 
 There was not much pain : a little fever, a growing 
 drowsiness, a failing appetite, a little swelling of the 
 limbs. Even the doctor seemed not to know what it 
 was that had crept so suddenly upon the active frame, 
 but he looked graver with every visit. Once, as he 
 added another vial to the little row on the stand by 
 the bed, he mentioned a name which the sick man, 
 opening his eyes a little wider, repeated, adding, 
 "That was what ailed my grandfather ;" and then he 
 closed his eyes without sign of uneasiness. Perhaps he 
 remembered how much stronger in all its seeming 
 powers was this body of his than that worn-out form 
 from which the spirit of the grandfather stole away at 
 last. 
 
 But a change came over him in these days. He lost
 
 3<D2 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 the querulous tone of inquiry about things at the barn. 
 He seemed to have forgotten that suspicion of his that 
 Tom was liable to let Dobbin's manger go empty. 
 Once he said to the boy instead, " It's a little hard on 
 you and Mike to have it all to do, Tom. I wish I 
 could help you with the husking." 
 
 At last there came a day when the rain ceased to fall. 
 The sun shone out clear and bright, and the clouds 
 went stately across the sky, to the measure of marches 
 they had kept in October. Mists rose from the earth, 
 not heavily, but with a lightness suggestive of warmth 
 still in the breast of the earth, and Esther, stand- 
 ing on the doorstep of the old house, noted that 
 there was even yet a little greenness among the limp 
 stalks in the garden where a flock of birds were twitter- 
 ing over the seeds they had found for their breakfast. 
 " I'm so glad the rain has gone," she said, drawing a 
 long breath. " It's pleasant weather that grandfather 
 needs." 
 
 And then she went softly into his room to tell him 
 how the sun was shining, and smiled as he murmured 
 in reply, "Truly the light is sweet, and a pleasant 
 thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun." 
 
 It was that day in the afternoon that Aunt Katha- 
 rine came across the fields. The door of the kitchen 
 was on the latch, and she lifted it and stepped in
 
 ESTHER GOES TO PRAYER-MEETING. 303 
 
 without knocking. Perhaps she expected to see him 
 sitting by the fire, for she looked before her eagerly, 
 but even Aunt Elsie was not in sight, and she passed 
 on without greeting to her brother's room. He looked 
 quite bright as he lay with his face toward Esther, who 
 had just been giving him a cup of broth. 
 
 "Why, Aunt Katharine! " exclaimed the girl, rising 
 to her feet, and the old man, lifting his head, put out 
 his hand with an eager welcome. 
 
 " So you hain't managed to get out of bed yet?" she 
 said, taking the chair from which Esther had risen, 
 and looking down at her brother with an affectionate 
 smile. "Well, I'm sorry for you, Ruel." Then, a 
 half whimsical expression creeping over her smile, 
 she added : " Tears to me you don't hold up so much 
 better 'n some of us that don't claim to be so stout. 
 I've owned up to it for a good while that I ain't as 
 young as I used to be, and there's no denying that 
 I make a pretty fair showing with most old women 
 when it comes to aches and pains, but they hain't 
 brought me onto the flat of my back for the last ten 
 years." 
 
 "I've been favored above most, Katharine," said 
 the old man, mildly. " I've had my strength and fac- 
 ulties spared to me beyond the common, and I can't 
 complain of anything now. ' Shall we receive good
 
 3O4 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 at the hand of God and shall we not receive evil ? ' 
 It is the Lord's will, let him do what seemeth him 
 good." 
 
 She was evidently struck with his reply, and for 
 a moment looked at him keenly. " I should have 
 come up before this, if it hadn't rained all the time," 
 she said, "and I took it for granted you was getting 
 along. But I guess you hain't needed me any, with 
 those that are here to wait on you." 
 
 The old man's eyes turned to Esther with a pecul- 
 iar tenderness. "No, I don't want for anything," 
 he said. " Elsie manages everything just right, and 
 Esther here seems to know what I need before I get 
 a chance to speak of it. It's queer now how she 
 puts me in mind of her mother," he went on mus- 
 ingly. " Sometimes I can't get it out of my mind 
 that it's Lucia sitting right here by me. And I 
 hain't been out of my head either, have I ? " 
 
 The girl did not answer the question, but she 
 stooped and kissed his forehead. " It's nice to have 
 you think I'm mother," she said. " Do it all you 
 please." 
 
 He smiled at her, then turned with a sudden wist- 
 fulness to his sister. " Katharine," he said, " I've 
 been thinking a lot about you, and how much harder 
 'twould be for you than 'tis for me, if you should
 
 ESTHER GOES TO PRAYER-MEETING. 305 
 
 be taken sick down there all by yourself. There 
 wouldn't be anybody to take care of you as the 
 folks take care of me. I wish you lived up here 
 with us. I've wanted it this good while ; and Elsie "d 
 be willing, you know she would." 
 
 " She wouldn't like it, Ruel, and you wouldn't 
 either, after a little while," said the old woman, her 
 swift honesty throwing a note that was a trifle harsh 
 into her voice. "You and I never did see things 
 the same way, and we should see 'em more contrari- 
 wise than ever, if we had to stand on just the same 
 piece o' ground to look at 'em." 
 
 The old man lifted his head with an obvious ef- 
 fort, and his breath came quick for a moment. 
 "No," he said, "we never did look at things just 
 alike, you 'n' I, and I guess 'twas natural to us 
 both to want to pull the other round to our way. 
 But I've been thinking about that too, Katharine, 
 and I'm I'm afraid I've riled you up sometimes 
 when I hadn't or' to. You've got just as good a 
 right to your way of looking at things as I have to 
 mine, and I'm afraid I've said things to you some- 
 times that warn't becoming." 
 
 What she might have replied to this, if a neighbor, 
 with Aunt Elsie, had not entered the room at that 
 moment, is not certain. A pallor had swept suddenly 
 x
 
 3O6 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 across her face, and her eyes, wide and startled, were 
 fixed with a frightened look upon her brother. She 
 rose from her chair as the others drew near, and 
 without responding to their greeting stepped swiftly 
 outside the door. Then she beckoned to her niece 
 with a trembling gesture. 
 
 " Elsie," she whispered, when the other had crossed 
 the threshold, " I'll be obliged to you if you'll let 
 Tom hitch up and drive me down to the house. I 
 want to get a few things and come right back. If 
 you don't mind I'll stay here a while. Ruel's a 
 dreadful sick man."
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE GET HOME. 
 
 SHE had guessed the truth first, but they knew it, 
 all of them, in a few days more. They knew that 
 Ruel Saxon's feet were set on the downward path to 
 the valley from which there is no return. 
 
 They did not send for Stella. She had her work, 
 and there were enough in the home to do all that 
 could be done for him. Still there was little pain, a 
 growing weakness, and the mind wandering more and 
 more often, but always peacefully, and oftenest over 
 the years that lay far, far behind him. Of Esther he 
 seemed almost to have lost knowledge. He called 
 her Lucia constantly now, and liked no one so much 
 at his bedside. 
 
 And she kept her place, with no regret for any 
 employment she might have had in its stead. There 
 came a letter from Mr. Philip Hadley, with messages 
 for her grandfather, and though the latter but half 
 understood as she read them, he seemed touched and 
 
 307
 
 3O8 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 pleased. The young man had learned, through a call 
 on Stella, of the old gentleman's illness and the conse- 
 quent delay in the carrying out of Esther's plan, and 
 he wrote, earnestly hoping it might not be for long, 
 with kindest expressions of sympathy for his aged 
 friend. 
 
 And then there came another, but this Esther did 
 not read aloud. The reading to herself alone left a 
 troubled look in her eyes as she laid it down. It 
 seemed that Mr. Hadley's plans had suffered change, 
 too. His father was not bearing the Boston Novem- 
 ber well, and California for the winter was the doctor's 
 prescription. He must go with them, the young man 
 wrote, to see his father and mother well settled, but it 
 would be only for a few weeks, and by the time he 
 returned surely Esther herself would be in Boston. " I 
 confess," he added, "that anxious as I am to do what 
 I can for my father, I could hardly bear it to be away 
 from Boston if you were here now." 
 
 They objected to her sitting up with her grandfather 
 that night on the ground that she was not looking as 
 well as usual, but Esther protested. It was her turn, 
 she pleaded. She had had the promise of staying 
 with him till midnight, and indeed, she was perfectly 
 able. So they let her have her way, and left her alone 
 with him in the dear, familiar room, with the lamp
 
 IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE GET HOME. 309 
 
 burning low on the table, and everything ready to 
 her hand. She could call the others in a moment if 
 she needed them. He had been easier than usual 
 during the day, sleeping most of the time, and again 
 at moments seeming so like himself that, in spite of 
 them all, she could not believe he was going away 
 soon. Why should he ? Life was sweet to him still, 
 and his body, till now, had seemed strong and active. 
 What was that length of years which people named 
 with a shake of the head as they mentioned his illness ? 
 It was not years that counted in making men old. It 
 was labor and loss and heartache. The labor was joy 
 to one who loved it as he did, the simple labor of the 
 fields, and of friendly service among his fellows. And 
 of loss and heartache there could be none to sap the 
 springs of life for one whose cheerful faith laid hold 
 of the eternities like his. It was not time, surely it 
 was not time yet, for the silver cord to be loosed which 
 bound Ruel Saxon to his work and his friends. 
 
 So she said to herself with the easy hopefulness 
 of youth, as she watched the old man lying there 
 with his face on the pillow. He grew more restless 
 as the hours went on. Memory, while all the other 
 faculties lay sleeping, seemed to bestir itself with 
 unwonted vigor. Hymns, quaint and long-forgotten 
 in the churches, rolled one after another from his
 
 3IO WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 lips, and Psalms, so many and with such unhesitating 
 sureness, that the girl listened marvelling, and won- 
 dered if he knew them all. 
 
 Then there came a change in his voice, and his 
 tone grew more appealing. It was not recitation 
 now, it was exhortation. He seemed to be warning 
 sinners, pleading with fellow-Christians. Ah, she 
 caught the meaning. He thought he was in prayer- 
 meeting again, and the zeal of the place had eaten 
 him up with its old delight and fervor. She smiled, 
 remembering that last meeting, and bent her head 
 closer to catch the words. 
 
 A strain of tenderness crept through them now. 
 Solemnly and very slowly he repeated, " Behold, I 
 lay in Zion for a foundation a stone, a tried stone, a 
 precious corner-stone, a sure foundation." He paused 
 for a moment, then, in a voice that was low but 
 strangely clear, went on, " Oh, my friends, do you 
 mark the word ? That precious stone, that head of 
 the corner, is a tried stone, tried through all the 
 years and proven sure. Tried" he lingered on the 
 word with unspeakable earnestness " by whom ? By 
 Abraham, by Moses, and by all the prophets, men 
 who heard the voice of God and followed where it 
 led them ; tried by Peter, by James, and John, men 
 who saw his face in the face of his Son, and leaned
 
 IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE GET HOME. 3 1 I 
 
 upon his breast and loved him ; tried by all the host 
 of martyrs, who laid down their lives for his sake, 
 counting it gain for the joy that was set before 
 them ; tried by " the voice sank almost to a 
 whisper, and the names of old neighbors and friends 
 fell lovingly one after another, the names of fellow- 
 farers with him in the journey of life who had 
 passed to their rest before him. Listening intently, 
 the girl knew them at the last for some of her own 
 kindred, as he murmured softly, " by Caleb Saxon, 
 by Joel and Mary, by Rachel my wife," and then, 
 after longer pause, with his eyes opening wide and 
 a tremor of unutterable joy and humility in the low 
 glad murmur, " tried by me." 
 
 A smile flitted over his face, and the eyelids 
 dropped. She thought he was asleep, and moved 
 noiselessly away lest even her breathing should dis- 
 turb him. It was almost an hour later, and the 
 watch on the table told her it was time for his 
 medicine, when she went again to his side. 
 
 " Grandfather," she said, bending over him ; but he 
 did not stir. She laid her hand on his, and the chill 
 struck to her heart. She started back, and for a 
 moment stood in her place, almost as white and 
 motionless as he. Then, with a cry, she flew out of 
 the room, calling to the others to come, the others
 
 312 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 who, with all their haste, could never again in the 
 old way catch word or look of his. 
 
 For he was gone. With that last word, the spirit 
 so bright and eager ah, yes ! so impatient at 
 moments, so prone to the hasty word, so open to 
 the little vanities, but sound at the core, and stead- 
 fast to bear its part in sun and storm as any oak on 
 the hills had stolen away. It was of himself he 
 had spoken last. They mused on it a little as she 
 told them ; but they knew it was of himself as the 
 humble, the rich recipient of grace unspeakable, and 
 in that great gladness had passed on to the Giver. 
 
 They bent around him weeping, the older women, 
 but Esther was too stunned for tears. She had been 
 alone with Death and had caught no hint of his 
 presence. She had never guessed that he could come 
 and go as stealthily as this. There was nothing more 
 that she could do, and they sent her away, not letting 
 her reproach herself that she had not known. " It 
 was not strange," they said ; and Aunt Elsie added, 
 steadying her voice for the girl's sake, " It was 
 better so ; the kindest way it could have come." 
 
 It was a wonderful night. The first snow of the 
 season had fallen while the old man lay dying, and 
 now the moon shone out with a still, white glory, 
 in which all the world lay new and clean. In the
 
 IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE GET HOME. 313 
 
 orchard beyond her window some boughs of trees, 
 cut by the saw of the pruner and not yet gathered 
 from the ground, lay glistening like great branches 
 of coral ; and the old stone wall had been builded 
 anew, touched with masonry of silver. Strange how 
 every detail of the scene swept in upon the girl, as 
 she stood there looking out upon it, wide-eyed and 
 silent ! 
 
 It was a picture in which her thoughts would frame 
 themselves again and again in the years that were 
 coming, when the solemn moods of life should bring 
 her face to face with the things of the soul. And 
 in that clearness and stillness, things which had puz- 
 zled her grew plain, and she knew her own heart 
 as she had not known it before. She could not 
 have explained how it came ; but before that great 
 reality of death, the unrealities of life slipped noise- 
 lessly away. The things which had been of the 
 surface fell off, and the needs, the loves, that were 
 deepest only were left. To have seen them once in 
 that clear light was to know them for what they 
 were, and she could not afterward forget. 
 
 They sent word to Stella in the morning, and late 
 that night Tom brought her from the station. She 
 had not loved her grandfather as Esther had she 
 had not so enjoyed his companionship ; but the knowl-
 
 314 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 edge that he was gone brought tears and genuine 
 sorrow. 
 
 "Dear old grandfather!" she said, looking down 
 at the still face. " How we shall miss him ! It 
 won't seem like home with him gone." And then 
 she drew her mother away to talk over the details 
 of the event that was coming. There must be no 
 flowers about his coffin, only one long beautiful sheaf 
 of wheat ; and she would have no crape on the door, 
 only a branch of evergreen from the woods he had 
 planted, with a sprig of myrtle. 
 
 It was at the church that the last services were 
 held. The rooms at the old house could not have 
 contained the throng that gathered to do him honor. 
 He had been a diligent attendant at funerals himself, 
 and had been frankly in favor of extended remarks 
 on the character of the deceased, even though the 
 custom put the preacher to sore straits sometimes, 
 when the virtues of the departed were not too many 
 or luminous. 
 
 Indeed, he had been known to excuse the preacher 
 under such circumstances for blinking the facts a 
 little. . At least he had called the attention of cap- 
 tious critics to that funeral lament of David's, in 
 which he distinctly alluded to a very persistent per- 
 secutor of his as "lovely and pleasant," - language
 
 IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE GET HOME. 315 
 
 which, to tell the truth, had really seemed to Ruel 
 Saxon a little excessive, and had led him to wonder 
 at times what the generous psalmist would have done 
 if he had not been able to couple Saul's name with 
 Jonathan's. 
 
 There was no lack of words at his own funeral, 
 words spoken with impressive earnestness and warmth, 
 and it was a tribute to the wide regard in which Ruel 
 Saxon was held that not only the minister of his own 
 church, but others from towns around, begged the 
 privilege of a part in the service. 
 
 "He would have liked it if he had been there; it 
 was a funeral after his own heart," Stella said, talk- 
 ing it over that evening with Esther. She drew a 
 long soft sigh, and added, " I declare I can't realize 
 yet that it was actually grandfather himself. He was 
 trying sometimes, but never tiresome ; and life will 
 lose part of its spice here at home, with him gone 
 out of it." 
 
 Esther did not reply. Somehow she could not talk 
 about things which were close to her heart in the 
 cool way Stella could. After a little silence the 
 latter said : " You'll go to Boston with me, of course, 
 when I go back. I shall stay at home long enough 
 to get things settled for mother, and there'll be no 
 need of either of iis staying after that."
 
 3l6 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 " Stella," said Esther, speaking very quietly, " I 
 suppose you'll think it's strange, but I've decided not 
 to go to Boston." The other started, and she went 
 on hurriedly, " I should like to be with you, and I 
 know there'd be a great deal to enjoy, but grand- 
 father's dying has changed everything for the present, 
 and honestly, there's nothing I want now so much as 
 to be at home." 
 
 For a minute Stella seemed too much surprised to 
 speak. Then she said, with a peculiar look at her 
 cousin, " There's somebody besides me who'll be 
 dreadfully disappointed if you don't come." 
 
 Esther returned the look without flinching, though 
 her color rose a little. " If ypu mean Mr. Hadley," 
 she said, " I should be very sorry to think he'd care 
 much, and truly I don't think he would; at least not 
 after the very first. I shall write to him. I must ; for 
 he sent such kind messages to grandfather, and he'd 
 want to know how it all was at the last. I think 
 he'll understand how I feel. I can't quite explain 
 it, but it's home and the home people I want. There's 
 nothing here now that I care for as I care for them." 
 
 Stella's eyes were on the floor, and she did not 
 raise them as she said, after a long pause, " I don't 
 quite make you out, Esther, but you are an awfully nice 
 girl. I wish it wasn't so far between here and Indiana."
 
 IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE GET HOME. 3 1/ 
 
 " I shall never think it's far after this," said Esther, 
 giving her cousin's hand a little squeeze. And then 
 she added cheerfully, " Don't you think it would be 
 nice to give Mr. Hadley one of grandfather's old 
 books ? There are some of them, you know, that are 
 really very curious, and he's so fond of those rare 
 old things. I'll tell him that you've taken one for 
 him ; I believe it would please him." 
 
 She had more misgiving as to how Aunt Katharine 
 would receive the news of her changed intention, but 
 not from her either did she meet any entreaties. 
 The old woman seemed strangely broken by her 
 brother's death. It was she beyond all others who 
 had been stricken. An apathy which was wholly new 
 had settled upon her, and was only shaken off at 
 moments when she talked of him. 
 
 " I thought he'd outlive me by years," she said to 
 Esther. " I always twitted him with thinking that he 
 was so much smarter than the rest of us ; but he 
 was, and I used to think, as he did, that he might 
 live to see his hundred years. I don't know why he 
 shouldn't have had 'em." And then she added, with 
 a quaver in her voice : " I wish I'd spoke up when he 
 said what he did the day I came in. I've riled him too, 
 sometimes, when I needn't, but it took me so by sur- 
 prise that I couldn't answer then. All I could think
 
 318 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 of was that he was going to die." She drew a long 
 sigh, and ended, " You must do as you think best, 
 child, about going home. I don't blame you any for 
 changing your plans." 
 
 She went back to her own house the day after the 
 funeral, in spite of Aunt Elsie's entreaty that she 
 should stay. " It's good of you, Elsie," she said, with 
 a shake of her head, " and I guess I could live with 
 you as easy as I could with anybody ; but I should 
 miss him more here than I should anywhere else, 
 and I'd rather be in my own place." 
 
 They let her go, but Aunt Elsie said the last word 
 with affectionate earnestness, as she passed out at the 
 door : " Don't be sick or in any kind of trouble with- 
 out letting us know. I'll do for you there just as 
 willingly as here if you should happen to need me." 
 
 Three days later Esther was gone too. She took a 
 silent farewell of her grandfather's room, looked long 
 from the windows at the hills she had come to love 
 so much and stepped out of the family circle like a 
 daughter of the house whose place no one else would 
 ever quite fill. Stella went with her to the depot, 
 and their hands unclasped reluctantly when the last 
 moment came. There were thoughts which neither 
 whispered to the other, and they wondered as they 
 looked in each other's eyes whether the time would
 
 IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE GET HOME. 319 
 
 ever come when they could fully tell them, but Esther 
 understood best what the silence held. 
 
 It was that other day over again when she came home 
 to her own, but the welcome lacked something of the 
 boisterous gladness which had greeted Kate, and the 
 mother's smile was full of tears as she clasped the 
 girl in her arms. No one, not even Mrs. Northmore, 
 understood exactly why she had given up the Boston 
 plan. The grandfather's going away, in the fullness 
 of his ripe old age, hardly seemed a reason why she 
 should relinquish pleasures which had looked so bright, 
 and an opportunity which had meant so much to her. 
 However, they were all most heartily glad to have her 
 at home again, especially Kate, and the latter felt 
 a little foolish, remembering that morning at Aunt 
 Katharine's, when it appeared from Esther's report 
 that the old woman had not objected at all to her 
 giving up the engagement which she had believed 
 to be planned with such deep and deadly designs. 
 Really, it seemed that she had lashed herself up to 
 that affair and been disagreeable on quite gratuitous 
 grounds. She admitted it, to herself, with her usual 
 frankness, and thanked her stars, in a strictly private 
 manner, that no one but Aunt Katharine and herself 
 knew it, save Tom. 
 
 To Mrs. Northmore, watching Esther thoughtfully
 
 32O WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 by the steady light of mother-love, it seemed that the 
 girl had found real value in the summer. She seemed 
 somehow older, looking at things more quietly, and 
 with a leisure from herself which, in spite of her 
 ready sympathy for others, had too often been want- 
 ing in the past. It was an aid against the restlessness 
 which might have come when a sudden vacancy in one 
 of the Rushmore schools brought her at Christmas an 
 unexpected offer of the position. She accepted it with 
 her mother's quick consent, doing good work and en- 
 joying it, as well as the pay that came with it. Indeed, 
 as she carried home her check at the end of each 
 month, she was impressed more than ever with the 
 soundness of certain views of Aunt Katharine's on 
 the moral value of earning and owning. She wrote 
 to the latter repeatedly, and once Aunt Katharine 
 replied ; but she was not fond of her pen, and the 
 letter, though affectionate, was brief. 
 
 There were longer letters from Stella, letters of the 
 chatty, personal sort, with a generous sprinkling of 
 family news. Mr. Hadley was calling often. If he 
 had sustained any disappointment that the cousins 
 were not in Boston together, he was apparently con- 
 soling himself with the company of the one who was 
 left. They were going to art lectures and symphony 
 concerts together, and the married sister had called.
 
 IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE GET HOME. 321 
 
 " It's precisely what ought to happen," Esther said 
 to herself more than once ; and the smile in her eyes 
 as she said it suggested that there was no vagueness 
 in her mind as to what the happening should be. 
 Sometimes when the smile was gone a wistful look 
 came in its place, but if she had any regrets or long- 
 ings of her own, she told them to no one. 
 
 The spring vacation in the schools came with the 
 Easter, early that year. Esther laid plans valiantly 
 at the outset for work to be accomplished in the space 
 between terms, but she had grown thoroughly tired 
 of her needle on the afternoon of the second day, 
 when her father announced suddenly that he was 
 going to drive out to the farm. There were matters 
 connected with the spring planting to be talked over 
 with Jake Erlock. 
 
 "What do you say to my going with you?" she 
 exclaimed, dropping her work. " It's ever so long 
 since I went out there, and I feel just like it." 
 
 There was nothing Dr. Northmore enjoyed more 
 than having one of his daughters with him when he 
 took a long drive." "That's a capital idea," he said. 
 " Get your things on quick." 
 
 Spring was coming along the track of the wide 
 straight road by which they took their way to the 
 pretty uplands which were the doctor's pride and care.
 
 322 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 Here and there broad fields of wheat were already 
 showing a tender green from the springing of the 
 grain which had lain all winter under frost and snow, 
 and between them new-ploughed fields sent up a 
 pleasant smell, the wholesome smell of the kindly 
 earth turning itself again to the sun and the rain. 
 
 The little gray house, set back from the road, wore 
 its old shy look, and the occupant, who greeted them 
 as they drove up to the door, seemed like one who, 
 in his solitary wintering, might have sat asleep on 
 his hearth, coming out half timidly now to greet the 
 warmth and stir of the world. He lost his air of un- 
 certainty as he saw his callers, and welcomed them 
 to his kitchen, which was orderly as ever, setting 
 chairs for them about his fire with a bustling hos- 
 pitality. Esther did not keep her place long. A few 
 kindly inquiries, a polite listening to his report of the 
 winter, and then she left the two men together, and 
 slipped away for a stroll by herself through the 
 orchard and along the edge of the field where the 
 threshing had gone on so blithely in the summer 
 past. 
 
 The straw-stack was there to remind of it still, not 
 fair and golden now, but gray and weather-beaten 
 from the winter storms. It had grown smaller with 
 the passing months, and a great hollow had been
 
 IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE GET HOME. 323 
 
 worn in its side by the browsing cattle. On the soft 
 matted floor of this inner shelter lay two calves, one 
 with its pretty, fawn-like head resting on the dark 
 red neck of the other. They turned soft wondering 
 eyes to the girl as she looked in upon them, and a 
 sitting hen, so near the color of the straw that at 
 first she did not see her, ruffled warningly from her 
 nest in the side. 
 
 She did not disturb them in their quiet retreat, but 
 sat down for a little while in the warm friendliness 
 beside their open door, and thought half-dreamily of 
 that day that was gone. What a bustle of work had 
 filled the place ! She could see the puffing engine 
 sending up its quick black breath against the sky, 
 and the great crimson machine, like a chariot, at its 
 back, with Morton Elwell at the front, a charioteer 
 holding the car of plenty on its way, amid a score 
 of sunburnt outriders. How confident he had looked 
 as he stood there in his workman's dress, bare- 
 armed and bare-throated, how strong and steady ! 
 
 She smiled at her own fancy. And then the rest 
 of the picture faded, leaving the one figure alone ; 
 but it was not at the threshing she saw him now, it 
 was at home, at school, on the playground, and every- 
 where her comrade, her champion, her friend. Had 
 he been something more in those old days, and was
 
 324 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 he still ? Ah, if she could be sure of that ! The 
 letters had lost the old boyish freedom in these last 
 months. She had complained once that Morton El- 
 well took too much for granted. He was taking 
 nothing now. 
 
 Her father's voice calling from the house roused 
 her at last from her revery, and they were off again 
 for home. He was thinking too busily of his summer 
 plans to talk, and she, wrapped in her own thoughts, 
 was glad of the silence. But she broke it suddenly 
 as they drew near the substantial brick house which 
 belonged to the Elwells, almost at the end of the 
 ride. 
 
 " Suppose you let me out here, father," she said. 
 " I haven't been in to see Mrs. Elwell for weeks, and 
 I've been thinking all the afternoon how good she 
 was to us last summer at the threshing. I want to 
 go in and thank her for it over again. I'll come 
 home by myself in a little while." 
 
 She hesitated a moment whether or not to go in 
 by the back way in the old familiar fashion, then, 
 for some reason, walked to the front door and rang 
 the bell. The mistress herself opened it, her hands 
 a little floury, and a clean gingham apron over her 
 afternoon dress. 
 
 " Well, upon my word ! " she exclaimed, starting at
 
 IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE GET HOME. 325 
 
 the sight of her caller. " If we weren't talking about 
 you, Esther Northmore, this blessed minute ! Come 
 in, come in. Who do you think is here ? " 
 
 She had not time to guess. She had not time to 
 speak the name which rose with wondering incredu- 
 lity to her lips when the owner of it himself came 
 hurrying through the hall to meet her. 
 
 "You! "she cried, fairly springing to meet Morton 
 Elwell. " Why, how does this happen ? " 
 
 " It's vacation for me too," he said, beaming at her 
 in the most radiant manner. "And yes, I'll own 
 it. It was a genuine fit of homesickness that brought 
 me. I've been struggling with it all winter, but it 
 was simply too much for me when there actually 
 came a halt in the school work. I had to come. 
 There was no other way." 
 
 "Think of it," said Mrs. Elwell, who looked so 
 happy that there was almost a halo round her head ; 
 "think of his taking that journey and coming home 
 for a week's vacation, when he could hardly afford a 
 day off for us all last summer." 
 
 "It does seem as if I'd grown to be something of 
 a spendthrift, doesn't it ? " said the young man. " But 
 you can't hold yourself down all the time. You have 
 to break loose now and then. And let me tell you " 
 they had reached the sitting room now, and he was
 
 326 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 sitting between them, looking from one to the other 
 like a happy child "let me tell you that I've taken 
 the Lisper scholarship, and that means my tuition all 
 the rest of my course. Don't you think I could 
 afford to give myself a glimpse of home when I 
 wanted it so desperately ? " 
 
 They cried, " Oh ! " in concert, Mrs. Elwell, whose 
 ideas were a little vague in regard to scholarships, 
 prolonging hers as if to cover the comments she 
 ought to make, and Esther adding, with the color 
 sweeping over her face, " Why, that is splendid, 
 perfectly splendid ! I can't tell you how glad I am." 
 
 " And won't you have to work your way any more ? " 
 asked Mrs. Elwell, when she could get her breath. 
 
 " Oh, yes. I shall have to turn an honest penny 
 for myself now and then," said her nephew, smiling. 
 "Tuition doesn't cover all the expenses by a good 
 deal, but it's a big help. Why, I feel quite like a 
 nabob." 
 
 The name, with its sudden reminder of the one 
 to whom Tom Saxon had mockingly given it in the 
 summer, made Esther laugh. Morton Elwell, with 
 his brown hands and common suit of clothes, did not 
 look the character in the least. 
 
 " Well, I'm glad you are not a nabob," she said, 
 meeting his eyes, and then demurely dropping her
 
 IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE GET HOME. 327 
 
 own. " Please don't go on to be one so fast that we 
 can't keep up with you. There are some of us that 
 like the old ways and have to go slow." 
 
 His face kindled, and he was on the point of saying 
 something, when his aunt spoke. " Now you chil- 
 dren just make yourselves at home," she said, rising, 
 "and I'll go on and get the supper. I was just fixing 
 to make some biscuits when you came, Esther. You'll 
 stay to supper, of course." 
 
 " Oh, I must go home in a minute," said the girl. 
 For the first time in her life she felt a sudden timidity 
 in the thought of a tete-a-tete with Morton Elwell. 
 " Mother'll expect me." 
 
 "Now what makes you talk like that?" said Mrs. 
 Elwell, in an injured tone. " Doesn't she know where 
 you are ? Of course she won't expect you. She 
 knows I wouldn't let you go home before supper. 
 Why, you never used to do that way, and it's ever so 
 long since you were here." 
 
 The logic was unanswerable, and Esther settled 
 back in the chair from which she had half risen. 
 " She'll stay, Aunt Jenny," said Morton, and he added, 
 smiling at Esther, "weren't you just saying that some 
 of us liked the old ways ? " 
 
 She took refuge in them swiftly when they were 
 left alone. He must tell her all about himself, about
 
 328 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 college, what he had done to gain that scholarship, 
 and what else he had done. She was all sympathy, 
 all interest, with all the old responsiveness in her 
 face, and he yielded himself to the warmth and joy 
 of it as one yields to spring sunshine after the cold. 
 She grew easier after the first, and presently there 
 was no chance for embarrassment nor for confidences 
 left; for the senior Elwell, with Morton's young 
 cousins, came into the room, and then the talk grew 
 general, though with Morton still at the centre, as 
 was the newcomer's right, and indeed his necessity' 
 with Esther leading him on. 
 
 She was at her best winsome, adroit, and deter- 
 mined if there was family pride in this uncle of his, 
 it should bestir itself now. She had grown even 
 prettier than she used to be, her manners even more 
 charming, the young man said to himself, and the 
 bounding happiness in her heart might well have 
 made it true. For there had been a moment, just 
 that moment before the others came into the room, 
 when she had caught sure knowledge of the thing 
 she had longed to know. 
 
 He had been telling her of an oratorical contest in 
 which he had borne a part, and, with a sudden tender- 
 ness in his voice, had said, " I wished a hundred times, 
 while I was preparing my speech, that I could go over
 
 IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE GET HOME. 329 
 
 it with you. Do you remember how you always used 
 to let me orate to you when I had anything on hand for 
 the rhetoricals ? It must have been an awful bore, but 
 somehow I never felt as if I could go on the stage 
 without your help." 
 
 " And you see you didn't need it after all," she said, 
 looking away. " You won the medal without me." 
 
 " Oh, but it wasn't without you," he said, leaning 
 toward her and speaking low, " for I was thinking all 
 the time what you would say if I won." 
 
 Ah, he could not have said a word like that if some 
 other girl had stolen her place away ! 
 
 The talk was over at last, and the supper too, the 
 good substantial supper which was always spread at 
 the Elwells'. She could go now. There was no for- 
 mality to insist that having eaten she must stay still 
 longer, and she wanted Morton to herself. She was 
 quite ready for it now, and he would go home with her 
 of course. 
 
 They had come back, with all the new meaning of it 
 for each, to the old frankness and freedom, and yet as 
 they took the familiar path across the fields, in the 
 gathering dusk, it was not easy to speak the thought 
 that filled both their hearts. They talked for a little 
 while of indifferent things of the lengthening days, of 
 the buds swelling on the willows, of the new buildings
 
 33O WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 rising on a neighbor's place. Then, all at once the 
 moon, the friendly moon, so kind in all its wanderings 
 to the needs of lovers, rose up in the sky. It was a 
 new moon, and they saw it at the same moment over 
 their right shoulders. 
 
 " We must wish a wish, as we used to when we were 
 children," said Esther, gayly. 
 
 There could never be another moment like this. He 
 stood suddenly still, and his eyes looked into hers. 
 " Esther," he said, " it seems to me I have only one 
 wish in the world, it is so much dearer than all the 
 others. If I could know, if I could surely know 
 and then he stopped. That swelling at his throat which 
 had choked him once before mastered his voice again, 
 not from fear now, but hope. 
 
 She waited an instant, then, as her hand slipped into 
 his, whispered, " Do you mean me, Mort ? Oh, do you 
 mean me ? " 
 
 It had never taken any one so long to cross that 
 field as it did those two to cross the little space that 
 was left. There was no bar to speech now, and there 
 was so much to say ! He said to her presently, with a 
 note of perplexity in his voice, " Esther, I have never 
 understood why you gave up going to Boston this win- 
 ter. You certainly wanted very much to go at first." 
 
 "Things changed after grandfather died," she said.
 
 IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE GET HOME. 331 
 
 She hesitated a moment, then took refuge in the for- 
 mula she had used so often to the others, but with a 
 clause she had not whispered before, as she added, 
 " Somehow I knew there was nothing I really wanted 
 except to come home and have you come too." 
 
 He murmured something rapturous. But he was 
 not quite satisfied yet. After a little he said, " Esther, 
 do you remember telling me once that if you had 
 half a chance you'd live a different life from the 
 common workaday sort ; you'd have culture, and 
 leisure, and travel, and all those things ? You did 
 have a chance, didn't you ? " 
 
 She flushed. "No one offered it to me," she said. 
 "Perhaps no one ever would. At any rate " her 
 voice sounded nervous but happy "if 'twas 'half a 
 chance,' I ran away from the other half. I didn't 
 want anything but you, Mort. I shall have whatever 
 you have, and that's enough." 
 
 He threw back his head and drew a long breath. 
 " Oh, I mean to do so much for you," he said. " It 
 seems to me I can accomplish anything now." 
 
 There, was the murmur of excited talking in the 
 sitting room at the Northmores' when they opened the 
 door at last. "Well, of all the strange things she 
 ever did, I call that the strangest," the doctor was 
 saying in the tone of one grappling with a mystery.
 
 33 2 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 The two young people looked at each other won- 
 dering. Then Esther said, in a merry whisper, "He 
 doesn't mean me. He'll think I've done the most sen- 
 sible thing in the world." 
 
 They walked toward the room, and the next moment 
 Kate was in the hall to meet them. She was quite 
 pale, and an unusual excitement showed in her 
 manner. Even the sight of Morton Elwell seemed 
 hardly to divert her preoccupation. " We heard you 
 had come, and I'm so glad," she said. Then, turning 
 to her sister, she exclaimed : " Esther, the strangest 
 thing you ever knew has happened. Aunt Katharine 
 is dead. Mother got a letter just now." 
 
 " Dead ! " repeated Esther. It did not cross her 
 mind to wonder why they thought this thing so 
 strange. The fact itself filled her with a great and 
 sudden sadness. "Poor dear Aunt Katharine!" she 
 said, and in the light of what the last hour had 
 brought to herself the thought of all the brave old 
 heart had missed, and how stanchly she had borne 
 it, filled her with a new love and pity. " How did 
 it happen ?" 
 
 "She died suddenly," said Kate. "Aunt Elsie 
 wrote about it. But it isn't that. It's her will ! Oh, 
 you can't think how she's> left her money. It seems 
 as if she couldn't have meant it."
 
 IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE GET HOME. 333 
 
 An unmistakable alarm leaped into Esther North- 
 more's eyes, and she turned suddenly to Morton 
 Elwell. " We were great friends," she whispered, 
 in a low hurried tone, " but nothing, nothing could 
 make any difference now." 
 
 Low as the words were spoken, Kate caught them. 
 "Oh, you darlings! you darlings!" she cried, throw- 
 ing an arm round the neck of each. Then, between 
 laughing and crying, she said hysterically, " But it 
 isn't you, Esther, that she's left her money to. It's 
 me! Think of it, me!" 
 
 " You ! " ejaculated Esther, dropping with a sudden 
 limpness against Morton's shoulder. " Did she 
 think " 
 
 Kate pulled her toward the door. The preponder- 
 ating note in her voice was laughter now. " Come 
 and hear what she thinks." 
 
 Even Esther could not wait for the details of the 
 letter after this. Aunt Katharine had gone suddenly, 
 as she always hoped she might, but her will, which 
 she had directed to be read at once upon her decease, 
 was a far greater surprise to her relatives. After 
 giving careful directions for her funeral, she had 
 made her bequests. The document had been drawn 
 up before her brother's death (by date in the early 
 fall), and her farm, which joined his, had been left
 
 334 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 to him, as a permanent part of the Saxon home- 
 stead. To certain persons, who had been in a way 
 dependent on her kindness, she had left small sums, 
 among them Solomon Ridgeway, to be used for his 
 support and comfort, " at such times as he may see 
 fit to be absent from his present residence." (So ran 
 the wording.) To a certain charitable institution she 
 had left five thousand dollars. To Esther Northmore, 
 with her love, some personal belongings, and these, 
 as the girl recognized with a throb at her heart, were 
 those which she had valued most, and then followed 
 this singular passage. 
 
 " As to the bulk of my property, it has sometimes 
 crossed my mind that could I know some young 
 woman intelligently devoted to the securing of those 
 rights which I believe must be accorded to women 
 before the conditions of society can become true and 
 sane, and willing for the sake of these, and for the 
 sake of her own independence, to refrain from mar- 
 riage, that I would make such young woman my heir. 
 Circumstances have, however, led me to doubt the 
 probability of finding such a one, as well as the ex- 
 pediency of the measure. I, therefore, being in my 
 right mind and of disposing memory, do give and 
 bequeath the residue of my property, valued at 
 thirty-five thousand dollars, to my grandniece and
 
 IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE GET HOME. 335 
 
 namesake, Katharine Saxon Northmore, who, I be- 
 lieve, has will enough of her own to pursue whatever 
 courses she may see fit, in spite of any man who 
 might be bold enough to marry her. And to the gift I 
 add this request, that she will take the trouble to look 
 candidly into those views which I have maintained. I am 
 confident that her sister Esther will not misstate them." 
 
 A minute of dead silence followed the reading. 
 Then the doctor burst forth again : " The idea of 
 leaving a legacy to anybody with a dig like that ! 
 Why couldn't she have been civil about it if she 
 wanted to do it ? Perhaps her notion was to scare 
 the young men off and keep Kate single after all." 
 
 But Morton Elwell burst out laughing. " Not a 
 bit of it," he said. " A fellow who didn't think he 
 was mighty lucky to get Kate on any terms wouldn't 
 deserve to have her, and the old lady knew it. Kate, 
 I call this glorious ! " and he caught her and whirled 
 her around the room at a rate which left them both 
 breathless. 
 
 " I'll tell you what 'tis, father," she began, with a 
 gasp, when they had fairly stopped. " I don't intend 
 to have the name without the game, and I mean to 
 begin to use that money as I please, right away. 
 We'll pay off that mortgage that has bothered you 
 so, the very first thing."
 
 336 WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. 
 
 "Nonsense," said the doctor; but she went on: 
 
 "And maybe, when I get through the rest of my 
 schooling, I'll take a course in medicine. I always 
 thought I should like to be a doctor. Don't you 
 think ' Northmore and Northmore ' would look well 
 over your office ? " 
 
 " Nonsense," he said again, this time more sternly. 
 But he had been known to say " nonsense " before 
 to some plans which his girls carried out. 
 
 And after a while " How far do thirty-five thou- 
 sand dollars go ? I might do something handsome 
 by Mort and Esther," she added, sending a sly look 
 at the two young people. 
 
 Their sudden blushes told the rest of the story. 
 
 "Well, well!" said the doctor, laying down the 
 paper, " how things are heaping up to-night ! " He 
 sent a glance at his wife, and the look in her eyes 
 made his own grow moist. " My dear," he said, 
 "this is a pretty good world of ours, after all. I 
 don't pretend to understand what the cranks are driv- 
 ing at, but I rather think there are some of the old 
 ways that'll keep it sweet yet."
 
 W. A. Wilde Company, Publishers. 
 
 RE VOL UTIONAR Y MAID. A Story of the Mid- 
 dle Period of the War for Independence. BY AMY E. BLAN- 
 CHARD. 321 pp. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 The stirring times in and around New York following the pulling down of the statue 
 of George the Third by the famous " Liberty Boys," brings to the surface the patriotism 
 of the young heroine of the story. This act of the New York patriots obliged Kitty 
 De Witt to decide whether she would be a Tory or a Revolutionary maid, and a patriot 
 good and true she became. Her many and various experiences are very interestingly 
 pictured, making this a happy companion book to " A Girl of "76." 
 
 CTHE GOLDEN TALISMAN. BY H. PHELPS WHIT- 
 
 JL MARSH. 300 pp. Cloth, $I.5O. 
 
 The narrative is based upon the adventures of a young Persian noble, who, being 
 forced to leave his own country, leads an army against the mysterious mountain kingdom 
 of Kaffirias. Though defeated and taken prisoner by the enemy, the hero's talisman 
 saves his life and, later, leads him into kingly favor. 
 
 A valuable fund of information regarding the various plants, woods, and animals 
 which furnish the world with perfume is happily interwoven into the story. 
 
 'HEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES; Dr. North- 
 mare's Daughters. BY CHARLOTTE M. VAILE. 336 pp. 
 Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 Mrs. Vaile has drawn the characters for her new book from the Middle West. But 
 as the two girls spent their summer at their grandfather's in New England, a capital 
 groundwork is furnished 'for giving the local color of both sections of the country. 
 The story is bright and spirited and the two girls are sure to find their place among the 
 favorite characters in fiction. All those who have read the Orcutt stones will welcome 
 this new book by Mrs. Vaile. 
 
 W 
 
 :fTH PERR Y ON LAKE ERIE. A Tale of 1812. 
 
 BY JAMES OTIS. 307 pp. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 The story carries the reader from March until October of 1813, being laid on Lake 
 Erie, detailing the work of the gallant Perry, who at the time of his famous naval victory 
 was but twenty-seven years of age. From the time the keels of the vessels which be- 
 came famous were laid until the victory was won which made Perry's name imperish- 
 able, the reader is kept in close touch with all that concerned Perry, and not only the 
 main facts but the minor details of the story are historically correct. 
 
 Just the kind of historical story that young people boys especially are intensely 
 interested in. 
 
 B 
 
 A REAR A' S HERITAGE; or, Young Americans 
 Among the Old Italian Masters. BY D. L. HOYT. 325 pp. 
 Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 We welcome a book from the pen of Miss Hoyt, whose foreign travel and study 
 has made possible an exceedingly interesting story, into which has been interwoven 
 much instructive and valuable information. 
 
 With a desire to broaden the education of her son and daughter by the opportunities 
 afforded in foreign travel, an American mother takes them to Italy, and the author in a 
 very happy strain has given us their many experiences. Replete with numerou ! llus- 
 trations and half-tones, it makes a handsome and attractive volume. 
 
 W. A. Wilde Company, Boston and Chicago. 
 
 i
 
 W. A. Wilde Company, Publishers. 
 
 CrtfE QUEEN'S ANGERS. BY CHARLES LED YARD 
 - NORTON. 352 pp. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 The thrilling period during the last years of our struggle for independence forms the 
 groundwork for Colonel Norton's latest work. 
 
 The intense patriotism which prompted our young men to do and dare anything for 
 their country is shown in the exploits of the three young heroes. 
 
 By enlisting for a time beneath His Majesty's flag they were able to give much valu- 
 able information to the colonial cause. 
 
 With historical truth the author in this, his latest book, has happily coupled an ex- 
 ceedingly interesting and instructive story. 
 
 rHE ROMANCE OF CONQUEST. The Story of 
 American Expansion through Arms and Diplomacy. BY WIL- 
 LIAM E. GRIFFIS. 312 pp. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 In concise form it is the story of American expansion from the birth of the nation to 
 the present day. 
 
 The reader will find details of every war. Anecdote enlivens the story from July 4, 
 1776, down to the days of Dewey, Sampson, and Schley, and of Miles, Merritt, Shatter, 
 and Otis. It is a book as full of rapid movement as a novel. 
 
 J I/HEN BOSTON BRA VED THE KING. A Story 
 rV of Tea-Party Times. BY W. E. BARTON, D. D. 314 pp. 
 Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 One of the most absorbing stories ot the Colonial-Revolutionary period published. 
 The author is perfectly at home with his subject, and the story will be one of the popu- 
 lar books of the year. 
 
 " Though largely a story of boys and for boys, it has the liveliest interest for all 
 classes of readers, and makes a strong addition to Dr. Barton's already notable series 
 of historical tales." Christian Endeavor World. 
 
 " It is a pleasure to read and to recommend such a book as this. In fact, we must 
 say at the very beginning, that Dr. Barton is becoming one of the most skilful and enjoy- 
 able of American story-tellers." Boston Journal. 
 
 f^ADET STAND ISH OF THE ST. L O UIS. A Story 
 O of Our Naval Campaign in Cuban Waters. BY WILLIAM 
 DRYSDALE. 352 pp. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 A strong, stirring story of brave deeds bravely done. A vivid picture of one of the 
 most interesting and eventful periods of the late Spanish War. 
 
 " It is what the boys are likely to call ' a rattling good story.' " Cleveland Plain 
 Dealer. 
 
 " Mr. Drysdale has drawn an effective picture of the recent war with Spain in his new 
 book. The story is full of dash and fire without being too sensational." Cong-re- 
 gationalist. 
 
 /I DA UGHTER OF THE WEST. The Story of an 
 ^1 American Princess. BY EVELYN RAYMOND. 347 pp. Cloth, 
 $1.50. 
 
 Interesting, wholesome, and admirable in every way is Mrs. Raymond's latest story 
 for girls. Descriptions of California life are one of the fascinations of the book. 
 
 " A well-written story of Western life and adventure, which has for its heroine a 
 
 brave, high-minded girl." Chronicle Telegraph, Pittsburg. 
 
 " Laid among the broad valleys and lofty mountains of California every 
 crowded full of most interesting experiences." Christian Endeavor World. 
 
 W. A. Wilde Company, Boston and Chicago. 
 8
 
 IV. A. Wilde Company, Publishers. 
 
 War of the Revolution Series. 
 
 By Everett T. Tomlinson. 
 
 rHREE COLONIAL BOYS. A Story of the Times 
 of '76. 368 pp. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 It is a story of three boys who were drawn into the events of the times, is patriotic, 
 exciting, clean, and healthful, and instructs without appearing to. The heroes are 
 manly boys, and no objectionable language or character is introduced. The lessons of 
 courage and patriotism especially will be appreciated in this day. Boston Transcript. 
 
 rHREE YOUNG CONTINENTALS. A Story of 
 the American Revolution. 364 pp. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 This story is historically true. It is the best kind of a story either for boys or girls, 
 and is an attractive method of teaching history. Journal of Education, Boston. 
 
 TlfASfflNGTON'S YOUNG AIDS. A Story of the 
 rr New Jersey Campaign, 1776-1777. 391 pp. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 The book has enough history and description to give value to the story which ought 
 to captivate enterprising boys. Quarterly Book Review. 
 
 The historical details of the story are taken from old records. These include 
 accounts of the life on the prison ships and prison houses of New York, the raids of the 
 pine robbers, the tempting of the Hessians, the end of Fagan and his band, etc. 
 Publisher's Weekly. 
 
 Few boys' stories of this class show so close a study of history combined with such 
 genial story-telling power. The Outlook. 
 
 rWO YOUNG PATRIOTS. A Story of Burgoyne's 
 Invasion. 366pp. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 colonies asunder and join another British army which was to proceed up the valley of 
 the Hudson. The American forces were brave, hard fighters, and they worried and 
 harassed the British and finally defeated them. The history of this campaign is one 
 of great interest and is well brought out in the part which the " two young patriots" 
 took in the events which led up to the surrender of General Burgoyne and his army. 
 
 The set of four volumes in a box, $6.00. 
 
 OUCCESS. BY ORISON SWETT MARDEN. Author of 
 O "Pushing to the Front," "Architects of Fate," etc. 317 pp. 
 Cloth, $1.25. 
 
 It is doubtful whether any success books for the young have appeared in modern 
 times which are so thoroughly packed from lid to lid with stimulating, uplifting, and in- 
 spiring material as the self-help books written by Orison Swett Marden. There is not a 
 dry paragraph nor a single line of useless moralizing in any of his books. 
 
 To stimulate, inspire, and guide is the mission of his latest book, " Success," and 
 helpfulness is its keynote. Its object is to spur the perplexed youth to act the Columbus 
 to his own undiscovered possibilities ; to urge him not to wait for great opportunities, 
 but to seize common occasions and make them great, for he cannot tell when fate may 
 take his measure for a higher place. 
 
 W, A. Wilde Company, Boston and Chicago.
 
 W. A. Wilde Company, Publisher . 
 
 Brain and Brawn Series. 
 
 By William Drysdale. 
 
 rHE YOUNG REPORTER. A Story of Printing 
 House Square. 300 pp. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 I commend the book unreservedly. Goldcil Rule. 
 
 " The Young Reporter" is a rattling book for boys. Ne-.v York Recorder. 
 
 The best boys' book I ever read. Mr. Phillips, Critic for New York Times. 
 
 rHE FAST MAIL, A Story of a Train Boy. 328 pp. 
 Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " The Fast Mail " is one of the very best American books for boys brought out this 
 season. Perhaps there could be no better confirmation of this assertion than the fact 
 that the little sons of the present writer have greedily devoured the contents of the vol- 
 ume, and are anxious to know how soon they are to get a sequel. The Art Amateur, 
 New York. 
 
 CT>HE BEACH PATROL. A Story of the Life-Saving 
 _/ Service. 318 pp. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 The style of narrative is excellent, the lesion inculcated of the best, and, above all, 
 the boys and girls are real. New York Times. 
 
 A book of adventure and daring, which should delight as well as stimulate to higher 
 ideals of life every boy who is so happy as to possess it. Examiner. 
 
 It is a strong book for boys and young men. Buffalo Commercial. 
 
 T 
 
 HE YOUNG SUPERCARGO. A Story of the 
 Merchant Marine. 352 pp. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 Kit Silburn is a real " Brain and Brawn " boy, full of sense and grit and sound 
 good qualities. Determined to make his way in life, and with no influential friends to 
 give him a start, he does a deal of hard work between the evening when he first meets 
 the stanch Captain Griffith, and the proud day when he becomes purser of a great 
 ocean steamship. His sea adventures are mostly on shore; but whether he is cleaning 
 the cabin of the North Cape, or landing cargo in Yucatan, or hurrying the spongers 
 and fruitmen of Nassau, or exploring London, or sight seeing with a disguised prince 
 in Marseilles, he is always the same busy, thoroughgoing, manly Kit. Whether or not 
 he has a father alive is a question of deep interest throughout the story ; but that he 
 has a loving and loyal sister is plain from the start. 
 
 The set of four volumes in a box, $6.00. 
 
 &ERAPH, THE LITTLE VIOLINISTE. BY MRS. 
 O C, V. JAMIESON. 300 pp. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 The scene of the story is the French quarter of New Orleans, and charming bits of 
 local color add to its attractiveness. The Boston Jour mil. 
 
 Perhaps the most charming story she has ever written is that which describes Seraph, 
 the little violiniste. Transcript, Boston. 
 
 W. A. Wilde Company, Boston and Chicago. 
 iv
 
 W. A. Wilde Company, Publishers. 
 
 Travel-Adventure Series. 
 
 'N WILD AFRICA. Adventures of Two Boys in the 
 Sahara Desert, etc. BY THOS. W. KNOX. 325 pp. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 A story of absorbing interest. Boston Journal. 
 
 Our young people will pronounce it unusually good. Albany Argus. 
 
 Col. Knox has struck a popular note in his latest volume. Spring field Republican. 
 
 rHE LAND OF THE KANGAROO. BY THOS. 
 W. KNOX. Adventures of Two Boys in the Great Island Con- 
 tinent. 318 pp. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 His descriptions of the natural history and botany of the country are very interest- 
 Ing. Detroit Free Press. 
 
 The actual truthfulness of the book needs no gloss to add to its absorbing interest. 
 The Book Buyer, New York, 
 
 VER THE ANDES; or, Our Boys in New South 
 
 America. BY HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH. 368 pp. Cloth, 
 $1.50. 
 
 No writer of the present century has done more and better service than Hezekiah 
 Butterworth in the production of helpful literature for the young. In this volume he 
 writes, in his own fascinating way, of a country too little known by American readers. 
 Christian Work. 
 
 Mr. Butterworth is careful of his historic facts, and then he charmingly interweaves 
 his quaint stories, legends, and patriotic adventures as few writers can. Chicago Inter- 
 Ocean, 
 
 The subject is an inspiring one, and Mr. Butterworth has done full justice to the 
 high ideals which have inspired the men of South America. Religious Telescope. 
 
 OST IN NICARAGUA ; or, The Lands of the Great 
 Canal. BY HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH. 295 pp. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 The book pictures the wonderful land of Nicaragua and continues the story of the 
 travelers whose adventures in South America are related in " Over the Andes." In this 
 companion book to " Over the Andes," one of the boy travelers who goes into the 
 Nicaraguan forests in search of a quetzal, or the royal bird of the Aztecs, falls into an 
 ancient idol cave, and is rescued in a remarkable way by an old Mosquito Indian. The 
 narrative is told in such a way as to give the ancient legends of Guatemala, the story of 
 the chieftain, Nicaragua, the history of the Central American Republics, and the natural 
 history of the wonderlands of the ocelot, the conger, parrots, and monkeys. 
 
 Since the voyage of the Oregon, of 13,000 miles to reach Key West the American 
 people have seen what would be the value of the Nicaragua Canal. The book gives the 
 history of the projects for the canal, and facts about Central America, and a part of it 
 was written in Costa Rica. It enters a new field. 
 
 The set of four volumes in a box, $6.00. 
 
 L 
 
 UARTERDECK AND FOK'SLE. BY MOLLY 
 ELLIOTT SEAWELL. 272 pp. Cloth, #1.25. 
 
 Miss Seawell has done a notable work for the young people of our country in her 
 excellent stories of naval exploits. They are of the kind that causes the reader, no 
 matter whether young or old, to thrill with pride and patriotism at the deeds of daring 
 f the heroes of our navy. 
 
 W. A. Wilde Compai*y, Boston and Chicago. 
 v
 
 W. A. Wilde Company, Publishers. 
 
 Fighting for the Flag Series. 
 
 By Chas. Ledyard Norton. 
 
 CV 
 J 
 
 BENSON'S LOG ; or, Afloat with the Flag in 
 '61. 281 pp. Cloth, $1.25. 
 
 An unusually interesting historical story, and one that will arouse the loyal impulses 
 of every American boy and girl. The story is distinctly superior to anything ever 
 attempted along this line before. The Independent. 
 
 A story that will arouse the loyal impulses of every American boy and girl. The 
 Press, 
 
 MEDAL OF HONOR MAN; or, Cruising Among 
 Blockade Runners, 280 pp. Cloth, $1.25. 
 
 A bright, breezy sequel to " Jack Benson's Log." The book has unusual literary 
 excellence. The Book Buyer, New York. 
 
 A stirring story for boys. The Journal, Indianapolis. 
 
 MIDSHIPMAN JACK. 290 pp. Cloth, $1.25. 
 
 * '-*- Jack is a delightful hero, and the author has made his experiences and ad- 
 ventures seem very real. Congregationalist. 
 
 It is true historically and full of exciting war scenes and adventures. Outlook. 
 
 A stirring story of naval service in the Confederate waters during the late war. 
 Presbyterian. 
 
 The set of three volumes in a box, $3.75. 
 
 GIRL OF '76. BY AMY E. BLANCHARD. 331 pp. 
 Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " A Girl of '76 " lays its scene in and around Boston where the principal events of 
 the early period of the Revolution were enacted. Elizabeth Hall, the heroine, is the 
 daughter of a patriot who is active in the defense of his country. The story opens with 
 a scene in Charlestown, where Elizabeth Hall and her parents live. The emptying of 
 the tea in Boston Harbor is the means of giving the little girl her first strong impression 
 as to the seriousness of her father's opinions, and causes a quarrel between herself and 
 her schoolmate and playfellow, Amos Dwight. 
 
 A 
 
 SOLDIER OF THE LEGION. BY CHAS. LED- 
 YARD NORTON. 300 pp. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 Two boys, a Carolinian and a Virginian, born a few years apart during the last half 
 of the eighteenth century, afford the groundwork for the incidents of this tale. 
 
 The younger of the two was William Henry Harrison, sometime President of the 
 United States, and the elder, his companion and faithful attendant through life, was 
 Carolinus Bassett, Sergeant of the old First Infantry, and in an irregular sort of a way 
 Captain of Virginian Horse. He it is who tells the story a few years after President 
 Harrison's death, his granddaughter acting as critic and amanuensis. 
 
 The story has to do with the early days of the Republic, when the great, wild, un- 
 known West was beset by dangers on every hand, and the Government at Washington 
 was at its wits' end to provide ways and means to meet the perplexing problems of 
 national existence. 
 
 W. A. Wilde Company, Boston and Chicago.
 
 A 000 131 177