Wheat and Huckleberries; Or, Dr. Northmore's Daughters

by Amanda M. Douglas

  CHAPTER V

  AUNT KATHARINE SAXON

  In the privacy of their room that night Kate confided to Esther tworesolutions. The first was that she would not again, during her stay ather grandfather's, needlessly expose her ignorance of any point of Biblehistory: "For if we're going to get mother into disgrace, and make himthink she never taught us anything about it, it'll be a prettybusiness," she ended with feeling.

  To this Esther gave cordial assent, but she was not so sure of Kate'swisdom in the other matter; for the girl, with her usual penetration,had guessed that the Eastern relatives held a somewhat exalted opinionof the superiority of New England to the rest of the United States, andannounced 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 leftto the enjoyment of any prejudices he might have in favor of his nativesection.

  But the allusion to his age should have been omitted. Kate shook herhead at this, and declared that he of all others was the one not to bespared. Was it not his pride and boast that time had not robbed him ofeither mental or physical vigor? No, no; she should not hold herselfdebarred from supplying him with new ideas on any subject. It was onlywhen 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 tolet her alone, for at family prayers he read the pathetic story ofDavid's flight from his unworthy son, and his eyes sought hers for amoment with pointed meaning as he paused on the name of the loyal friendwhose swift generosity remembered the fugitives, "hungry and weary andthirsty in the wilderness," and who of good right met them again withrejoicing in their hour of victory.

  The quaint old story held the girl's absorbed attention to the end. Shewished it were longer, and told her grandfather so after breakfast,adding that the way he read the Old Testament made it more interestingthan common.

  He received the compliment with complacence. "Well," he said, "I guess Ido read it better than some folks. I guess I'm a little like those menin 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 themto understand.'"

  Kate privately wondered how many more people in the Bible hergrandfather resembled, but she refrained from suggesting the query, lesthe should claim her attention at once for the whole list.

  It was while they sat at table that morning that he said, looking at herwith the sudden lighting of face which marks a mental discovery: "It'syour great-aunt Katharine that you put me in mind of. I knew there wassomebody. It ain't your looks so much; but a way you have."

  "Oh, grandfather, how can you?" cried Stella. "Kate, you won't thank himmuch for that when you know Aunt Katharine."

  "She's the one I was named for, I suppose," said Kate. "I've heardmother tell about her. Well, if she's disagreeable, there won't be anylove lost between us on account of the name. I never did like itparticularly."

  "Disagreeable!" cried Stella, "why, she's the queerest, mostcross-grained, cantankerous--"

  "Stella! Stella!" said her mother, severely. "Why will you prejudiceyour 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 lipsparting again, "my mother's going to tell you that Aunt Katharine hashad a great deal in her life to try her, and that she is really aremarkably bright and capable woman. It's perfectly true; and severalother things are true besides."

  "The trouble with my sister Katharine," said Ruel Saxon, setting downhis cup of tea, which he had been drinking so hot that every swallow wasaccompanied by an upward jerk of the head and a facial contortion, "thetrouble with Katharine Saxon don't lay in her nat'ral faculties. It laysin a stiff-necked and perverse disposition. When she gets a notion intoher head she won't change it for anybody, and she's wiser in her ownconceit than 'seven men that can render a reason.'"

  "Grandfather himself frequently personates the whole seven," observedStella, with a nod at her cousins. She smiled, as if the memory of somepast scenes amused her, then said soberly: "The fact of it is, AuntKatharine is a regular crank. There's nothing in this world that goesright according to her notion of it, but she's particularly down on theways of the men. She _would_ have a little patience with women--for shethinks their faults are mostly due to their being so down-trodden--ifthey only wouldn't marry. I've heard her say so! She never marriedherself, you know, and she has an awfully poor opinion of the wholeinstitution."

  Ruel Saxon looked as if he had a word to offer at this point in regardto his sister's matrimonial opinions, but Aunt Elsie was before him."Now, don't you think," she said, looking gravely at Stella, andincidentally including him in the passing glance, "that we'd better letthe girls form their own impressions of Aunt Katharine? They may likeher a great deal better than you do, Stella."

  "I'm sure I'm willing," said the girl, with another shrug, and hergrandfather, after wrestling with a little more extremely hot tea,seemed to be willing too; but he suggested that the girls should make anearly call on their Aunt Katharine. It would give them a chance offorming the desired impressions, and besides she would expect it.

  The girls accepted the suggestion promptly. Indeed Kate, whose interestin her namesake had been considerably whetted by what had been said ofher, proposed that they should go that very morning; but to this AuntElsie's judgment was again opposed. It seemed that Aunt Katharine had aspecial dislike to being interrupted in her morning duties by callers,and was disposed to think slightingly of people who hadn't "work enoughto keep them at home in the fore part of the day." In the case of hernieces, who must certainly be excused for being at leisure, she mightwaive the last objection, but it was best to be on the safe side.

  It was settled that the girls, accompanied by their grandfather, shouldgo that afternoon, and if the call had been upon some distinguishedperson they could not have taken more pains with their toilets. Estherdebated between three gowns, and finally settled on a soft gray, withplain white cuffs and collar, while Kate put on a pretty lawn and thedashing Roman sash which had been Aunt Milly's parting gift.

  It was less than a half hour's walk across the fields to AuntKatharine's house, but the grandfather had decided to go by the road instate, and had Dobbin and the two-seated carriage at the door in goodtime. He had taken a little more pains than usual with his ownappearance, and his daughter-in-law added the last touches with carefulhand.

  She was not much inclined to the giving of gratuitous advice; but, inthe absence of the young people from the room, she did say,persuasively, as she adjusted the old gentleman's cravat: "If I wereyou, father, I'd try not to get into one of those discussions to-daywith Aunt Katharine. We want the girls to have as pleasant an opinion ofher as possible, and you know she always appears at a disadvantage whenshe's arguing with you."

  Sly Aunt Elsie! There were moments when the wisdom of the serpent was asnothing to hers. Ruel Saxon twisted his neck for a moment impatiently inhis cravat, then replied meekly: "Well, I s'pose it does kind of put herout to have me always get the better of her. Katharine has her goodp'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 withher this afternoon. Solomon says there's a time for everything: a timeto keep silence and a time to speak; and mebbe it's a time to keepsilence to-day."

  In this accommodating frame of mind he started off with hisgranddaughters. Stella had declined an invitation to accompanythem--possibly at her mother's suggestion--though the fact that the waylay along one of her favorite drives, the old county road, had beensomething of an inducement to go.

  It was one of those dear old roads, familiar in every part of NewEngland, through which the main business of the region, now diverted toother highways, once took its daily course, but which, as its
importancedwindled, had gained in every roadside charm. The woods, sweet with allsummer odors, had crept close to its edge; daisies and ferns encroachedon its borders, and its wavy line made gracious curve for the rock whichhad rolled from the hill above and lay beside it still, a moss-coveredperch for children and squirrels. Here, the birds, not startled toooften in their secret haunts, tilted on sprays of the feathery sumach,finishing their songs with confident clearness as the traveller drewnear, and the swift brown lizards darted across the way before the verywheels of his carriage.

  Miss Katharine Saxon's farm was one of those which still had contactwith the world through this deserted highway, but its comparativeisolation had not affected its well-kept appearance. The house waswhite, with green blinds at the front and sides, but presented a red endto the fields behind, after the fashion of many in that section. Thedooryard, a small rectangle, was shut off from the surrounding pasturesby a high picket fence, though there were no shrubs, or even aflower-bed, inside the enclosure. The owner was not visible at any ofthe windows as her guests walked up the gravel path, which was toonarrow to admit of their advancing in any but single file, but the brassknocker had scarcely fallen before she opened the door in person.

  "SHE OPENED THE DOOR IN PERSON."]

  Even Esther had no remembrance of having seen her before, but therecould be no doubt of her identity. In feature she was singularly likeher brother, but her small thin figure was not trim and straight likehis. She was so painfully bent as plainly to need the aid of the stoutoak stick on which she leaned, and her hair, in striking contrast withhis, was snowy white. She greeted her nieces with as little effusion astheir Aunt Elsie, but her quick bright eyes betrayed a much keenerinterest as they darted sharply from one to the other.

  "Well, Ruel, I s'pose you're feeling just as smart as ever to-day, andjust 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 youwas here, and my sight and hearing are mebbe a little grain worse."

  She delivered herself of this with surprising rapidity as she walkedbefore them into the parlor, looking back with short quick glances ather brother. He responded by a rather discomfited grunt. Evidently shehad the start of him. The parlor was of the primmest New England type,and so dark that for some moments the girls, sitting uncomfortably onstraight-backed chairs whose hard stuffed seats seemed never before tohave been pressed by a human figure, could scarcely make out what mannerof place they had entered. It dawned on them by degrees, and if anythinghad 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 ofhuman life had ever been carried on in this room. The pictures whichStella had banished would seem to have been dragged from theirhiding-places and hung on these walls, and beside them there was nothingof mural ornament except three silver coffin plates framed in oak on aground of black. The Northmore girls, gazing in wonder at these shiningtablets, could scarcely believe that they were really what they seemed,but Stella, to whom they appealed on their return, promptly disabusedthem of the doubt. Most certainly these sombre ornaments had theiroriginal place on the funeral casket. It was not uncommon, she said, tofind such relics displayed in old-fashioned houses in this region.

  "There were some in our house once," she added, "but I persuadedgrandfather to let me lay them away in the best bureau drawers. Heobjected at first, but after I put up my Madonnas and cathedrals hesuccumbed. I believe he considered the place unfit to display the namesof those who had died in the faith."

  But this was afterward. At present Esther was occupied with thestrenuous effort to read the names thus honored of Aunt Katharine, andKate was bending all her energies to discover the points in which sheherself resembled that lady. The latter turned upon them now with one ofher sharp glances.

  "So you're Lucia's girls," she said with deliberation. "Well, you ain'tas good looking as she was, neither of you. But handsome is thathandsome does; and if you behave yourselves, you'll do."

  The girls were somewhat taken aback by this, but Kate rallied in amoment. "You can't hurt our feelings by telling us we aren't as goodlooking as mother was," she said gayly, "for we know she was a regularbeauty. Father's told us that over and over."

  "I'll warrant he thought so," chuckled her grandfather, "and he wasn'tthe only one, neither. Why all the likeliest young fellows in town camecourting your mother. She didn't have to take up with a Western manbecause she couldn't get anybody nearer home."

  "Perhaps it was because she had a chance to compare the Western man withthose around here that she _did_ take up with him," said Kate, quickly.

  It was a fair retort; but the old gentleman's forehead puckered for amoment as if he were not quite prepared for it. Before he could sayanything in reply his sister had changed the subject, by asking, in herabrupt way, with her eyes fixed on her younger niece, "What do you thinkof this country?"

  It is the stereotyped question from the old resident to the newcomer inall parts of the world. Perhaps, convenient as it is in bridging overthe awkwardness of first acquaintance, it would be oftener omitted ifsociety remembered that dictum of Dr. Johnson's, that no one has a rightto put you in such a position that you must either hurt him by tellingthe truth, or hurt yourself by not telling it. Kate Northmore had neverfaced the alternative under very crucial conditions, but whatever twingethere might be she preferred on general principles to resign to theother party, and she did so promptly now.

  "Well, I can't say I'm very much struck with the looks of it," she saidfrankly. "It's different from ours, you know; and these little bits offields are so funny, all checkered off with stone walls. I haven't gotused to them yet."

  Miss Saxon looked at her niece without speaking, but the grandfatherbristled at this. "Hm!" he grunted, "You Western folks seem to thinknothing's of any account unless it's big. 'Taint the size of things, butwhat you do with 'em, that counts."

  "Well, it's a wonder to me what you can do with some of this land ofyours, it's so rough and poor," said Kate, lightly. "I don't see how thefarmers manage to make a living, scratching round among the rocks."Then, with a good-natured laugh, she added: "Oh, we don't despise thelittles, out our way, as much as you think; but when it comes to wheatand corn, and things of that sort, we do like to see a lot of it growingall together. It looks as if there was enough to go round, you know, andmakes people feel sort of free and easy."

  Perhaps, in his heart, Ruel Saxon doubted whether it was good for peopleto feel free and easy in this transient mortal state, but he had nochance just then to discuss the moral advantages of large labor andsmall returns, for Esther exclaimed, with a glance at her sister whichwas half reproachful: "But there are so many other things in a countrybesides the crops! For my part, I think New England is perfectlybeautiful. 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 lookedprettier than Esther did at that moment. A delicate pink had risen inher cheeks, and her brown eyes seemed unusually soft and lustrous in thewarmth with which she had spoken. She had made a lucky suggestion, andher grandfather took his cue instantly.

  "We never pretended that our strong p'int was raising wheat 'n' cornhere in New England," he said loftily. "The old Bay State can do betterthan 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 andsound understanding."

  "We've got some of that sort, too," said Kate, cutting in at the firstpause. "The only difference is you started on your list a little aheadof 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 among the rocks tomake a living, but we've scratched lively enough to do it, and supportour schools and churc
hes, and start yours into the bargain. We'vescratched deep enough to find the money to send lots of our boys tocollege--there's been a good many of 'em right from this district. Therewas 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 thesheep's nose to get 'em down to the grass between; there was BaxterSlocum--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 herchair. Her square chin, which had been resting on her clasped hands atthe top of her cane, had come up, and her eyes were fixed sharply on herbrother.

  "While you're about it, Ruel," she said, interrupting him in the dryestof tones, "you might just mention some o' the _girls_ that have beensent to college from these old farms."

  Ruel Saxon, reined up thus suddenly in the onward charge of hiseloquence, opened and closed his lips for a moment with a ratherhelpless expression. She waited for him to speak, her thin handsgripping the cane, and the corners of her mouth twitching ominously.

  "Well, of course, Katharine," he said testily, "there hain't been asmany girls. For that matter there warn't the female colleges to send 'emto fifty years ago; but you know yourself there hain't been the means tosend '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 accentof intense bitterness. "If there couldn't be but one, it must be theboy, of course,--always the boy. Oh, I know! Yes, and I know how thegirls 'n' their mothers have slaved to send 'em. It ain't the men thathave learned how to get more out of the farms; it's the women that havelearned how to get along with less in the house. There was AbnerSickles! Yes, there was; and there was his sister Abigail, too. I wentto school with 'em both. She was enough sight smarter 'n he was; alwayscould see into things quicker, 'n' handle 'em better, but they took anotion to send him to college,--wanted to make a minister of him,--and shestopped going to school when she was fourteen, and did the housework forthe family,--her mother was always sickly,--and then sat up nights, sewingstraw and binding shoes to earn money for Abner." She paused, with anote in her voice which suggested a clutch at the throat, then added:"She died when she was twenty. Went crazy the last part of the time, andthought 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 badabout 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 tosee her once, with two of the other deacons, and we set out the doctrineof the unpardonable sin clear and strong, and showed her that if shereally _had_ committed it she wouldn't be feeling so bad about it--she'dhave her conscience seared as with a hot iron; but she couldn't seem tolay hold of any comfort. However, it was plain that her mind wasn'tright, and I don't believe the Lord held her responsible for her lack offaith."

  The old woman gave an impatient snort. "If he didn't hold somebodyresponsible, 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 ifit ain't the unpardonable sin for folks to act like fools, when the Lordhas given 'em eyes to see with, and sense enough to put two and twotogether, I don't know what 'tis. I tell you the whole trouble grew outof that notion that a boy must be sent away to school just because hewas a boy, and a girl must 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 givethe men the biggest brains, and put the strongest backs 'n' arms on thewomen? Heaven knows they've needed 'em."

  A good memory was undoubtedly one of Ruel Saxon's strong points, but allrecollection of the gentle warning his daughter-in-law had given him wasput utterly to flight by this speech of his sister's. He stiffenedhimself in his chair, and his nostrils dilated (to use a pet figure ofhis own) "like a war-horse smelling the battle from afar."

  "Katharine," he said, "you darken counsel by words without knowledge. Idon't pretend, and nobody ever pretended, that Abigail Sickles or' tohave worked herself to death to keep Abner in college. Her folks or' tohave seen it in time, and stopped her. But you take too much uponyourself 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 churchand state; it's the _men_ that have got to go out into the world andearn the living for the women and children; and it's because they'veneeded the education more, and had more call to use it, that the boyshave been sent to college instid of the girls. There's reason in allthings."

  She broke in upon him with a short, scornful laugh. "There's a terriblegood reason sometimes, Ruel, why the women have to earn the living forthemselves, 'n' the children too; and that's to keep themselves fromstarving. Who earned the living for Nancy's children when she brought'em all home to the old house forty years ago? Well, I guess she 'n' Iearned most of it."

  She lifted her shoulders with an effort, and added: "Shouldn't be quiteso near doubled together now if it hadn't been for bending over thatspinning-wheel day in 'n' day out, working to get food 'n' clothes forthose children, the six of 'em that John Proctor ran away 'n' left. Youtalk about men going out in the world to earn the living. It would be agood thing for the women to go into the world too, sometimes. Mebbe theywouldn't be quite so helpless then when they're left to shift forthemselves."

  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 thenhe faced her with a fresh impatience. "But that ain't the way the mengener'ly do, is it? To hear you talk a body'd think the women had justnaturally got to plan for that sort of thing. You want 'em to go outinto the world, like the men, and make a business of it. I'd like toknow who'd take care of the home 'n' the children if they did. Home isthe place for women. The Apostle Paul--"

  There was a distinct flash of anger now in the small, bright eyes ofMiss Katharine Saxon. "Don't tell me what Paul said," she exclaimed. "Itell you that notion o' his, that there was nothing a woman had a rightto do but marry, 'n' have children, 'n' tend the house, is at the bottomof half the foolishness there is in the world to-day. Women have just asgood a right to pick 'n' choose what they shall do as the men have. Andsome of 'em had a good deal better do something else than marry the menthat want 'em. I tell you Paul didn't know it all. 'Cording to his ownaccount he had to be struck by lightning before he could see somethings, and if another streak had come his way mebbe he'd caught sightof a few more that were worth looking at."

  Ruel Saxon gazed at his sister for a minute speechless. Then he saidsolemnly, "Katharine, there _is_ such a thing as blasphemy, and I'd be alittle careful if I was you how I talked about the Lord's dealings withhis saints."

  He glanced at his granddaughters as he said it, as if to suggest thattheir morals, if not his own, might be impaired by such language.

  "Laws, Ruel," she said briskly, "I'd somehow got it into my head thatthat thing happened to him on the way to Damascus, and I didn't know asyou or anybody else called Saul of Tarsus a saint."

  She had him at a moment's disadvantage, and the thin, high, mockinglaugh 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 namewhich he had just bestowed by implication on his sister was, like thetext itself, Solomonic. The person lacking, not in knowledge, but inmoral sense, was the one whom the wise man called a fool, and there weremoments when Katharine Saxon appeared to her brother to be so wanting inthis respect as to come fairly under the title. It was not the firsttime that his frankness had led him to bestow it on her.

  "Hey?" she said, leaning forward suddenly, with her hand curled abouther ear.

  That she had not caught the words was by no means certain. It suited herhumor sometimes to offset h
is boastfulness as to his good hearing with acertain parade of her own slight deafness, and the occasions for makinghim repeat himself were often cunningly chosen. For once he did not doit. Perhaps, a second time, he remembered the presence of hisgranddaughters.

  As for the girls themselves, they caught their breath, in the silencethat followed, with something like a gasp. It is safe to say that theyhad never been present before at such an interview between relatives.Kate would not have minded a renewal of hostilities, but Esther, withbetter grace, seized the chance to effect a truce by turning theconversation into a more peaceful channel.

  "Aunt Katharine," she said eagerly, "you spoke of the spinning you usedto do. Have you the old wheel now? I've heard mother tell what awonderful spinner you were, and I should so like to see the very wheelyou 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 girlswanted it, and I let her carry it off. 'Twasn't any account; pretty nearas 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 placewith her ordinary manner. "I can show you a piece of linen your motherwove, if you want to see it. She'd have made a good spinner herself ifshe'd stuck to it, but I s'pose she forgot all about it long ago. Well,there's plenty other ways for women to use their time nowadays, and I'mglad of it."

  The rest of the call ran smoothly. Miss Saxon could be even graciouswhen she was so disposed, and she treated her guests to a bottle ofraspberry vinegar, which, in spite of the fact that she had brewed itherself, was not in the least too sharp, with fruit cake which time hadbrought to the most perfect mellowness. Her nieces would have left herhouse imagining that the "queerness," of which she had given such ampleproof, was confined to the one subject which she had discussed with herbrother, had it not been for a little episode at the very end of thecall, and for this, as it happened, the old gentleman was againresponsible.

  "How are you getting along with your garden, Katharine?" he asked. "Iwas thinking mebbe I or' to send Tom down here to do a little weedingfor 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 intothe trim little garden. It was of the old-fashioned sort, withvegetables growing in thrifty rows, and bunches of such flowers asphlox, sweet william, and bachelor's buttons standing at the corners ofthe walks. It would have seemed a model of conventional primness, butfor a curious figure seated on a three-legged stool, puffing tobaccosmoke 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 shiningface, and a round head covered as to its top by an embroidered capadorned with a crimson tassel. His waistcoat was of gay old-fashionedsilk, across which was strung a huge gold chain, and a flaming topaz pinadorned the front of his calico shirt. At sight of the company issuingfrom the house he started from his seat and trotted up the walk to meetthem, his hand extended and his face expressive of the most beamingcordiality.

  Ruel Saxon, who was following his sister with a meekness of deportmentwhich had sat uneasily upon him ever since the close of theirdiscussion, started as his eye fell on this person, and threw up hishead with a movement of surprise and irritation. "Good day, Solomon," hesaid stiffly, as they came together, Miss Saxon having stepped aside togive free course for the meeting.

  "Why, how d'y' do, Deacon, how d'y' do?" exclaimed the other, seizingthe old gentleman's hand, which, to tell the truth, had not been offeredhim, and shaking it furiously. "It's been a terrible long time since youand I met. I--I was thinkin' the other day I or' to come round and seehow 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 hissister.

  "Two weeks to-morrow," she replied, with equal curtness. Then, turningto the little man, and from him to the girls, she said with markedpoliteness, "Mr. Ridgeway, these are my nieces, Lucia Saxon's children.I guess you remember her."

  The little man pulled the cap from his head, revealing a crown as baldas a baby's, and bowed himself up and down with the fervor of anOriental. "Lucia Saxon? What, her that married the doctor and went outWest? 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 aboutme," he added eagerly. "I took her home from spellin' school once. Shehad 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 overcomehim, and he hopped first on one foot, then on the other, like an excitedchild.

  Ruel Saxon's face worked curiously while this performance lasted. "Idon't see but what your garden truck is getting on all right," he saidin the dryest of tones, "and I guess the girls 'n' I'd better be going."

  He turned, making his way past the others, regardless of the fact thathis footprints were left in the onion-bed which bordered the walk, andheaded the line again toward the house.

  "I shall write to mother that we have seen you," said Esther, smilingback at the little man, who still stood bowing with his cap in hishands, and Kate gave him a friendly nod, though her mouth was twitchingwith amusement.

  Aunt Katharine said good-by to them at the front door. "If you ever feellike seeing the old woman again, come down," she said to the girls."'Tain't so very far across the fields, and you can follow thecow-path." Then, without waiting to see them go, she closed the door.

  "Grandfather," Kate burst out when they were fairly off, "who in theworld 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 staysthere most of the time, but now 'n' then he gets a restless spell andthey 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, "andhow he was dressed out, with his fine flowered vest and his jewellery!"

  "'Jewellery!'" grunted her grandfather. "He didn't have on any comparedwith what he has sometimes. Why, when he really dresses up, that creturcovers himself all over with it."

  The girls looked so astonished that he apparently felt it incumbent onhim to attempt some explanation of the man. "The fact is," he said,"Solomon Ridgeway is as crazy as a loon on one p'int. He thinks he'srich, though for aught I know he's got as much sense about other thingsas he ever had. He thinks he's terrible rich, and that the best way tokeep his property, as he calls it, is in gold and jewels. He's got atrunkful of it--wo'thless stuff, of course--that he carries with himeverywhere. I s'pose it's stowed away somewhere at your Aunt Katharine'snow."

  Kate really seemed past speaking for a moment, and Esther exclaimed in atone of utter bewilderment, "Well, I should have thought Aunt Katharinewas the last person in the world who would want such a man at her house.What makes her do it?"

  "The Lord only knows," said the old gentleman solemnly. And then hejerked the reins and urged Dobbin on his way in a tone of uncommonasperity.

  The fact was, the question had a special irritation for him. That hissister, who flouted wise men and scorned the opinions of those havingauthority, should bear with the vagaries of a being like SolomonRidgeway was a thing that passed his understanding. With the man himselfhe _might_ have had some patience, though his form of mania waspeculiarly exasperating to his own hard common sense, and somehow hecould not help resenting it that "Solomon," of all names, should havelighted on so foolish a creature; but that, such as he was, he should bethe object of Katharine Saxon's pointed and continuous favor was tryingbeyond measure to her brother. He lapsed into a silence quite unusualwith 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 awaywhen they reached the house, and Aunt Elsie asked no questions beyond aninquiry for Aunt Katharine's health. It was at supper that the subjectfound its way into the family talk, and then Stella, who had just comein, opened it.

  "Well, I hope you enjoyed your call on Aunt Katharine," she said,smiling at her cousins.

  "Of course we did," said Kate, promptly. "You didn't begin to tell ushow interesting she is."

  "Oh, but you should have been there on a day when she and grandfatherdiscussed things," said Stella. "That's the time when she really showsher quality." She sent a demure glance at the old gentleman as shespoke. How she had become possessed of his intention to refrain fromcontroversy is not certain, but somehow she had it.

  He glanced with obvious embarrassment at his granddaughters. Then he setdown his cup of tea, and faced his daughter-in-law. "Elsie," he said, ina tone whose humility was really touching, "I meant to stand by what Isaid to you. I certainly did; but I couldn't do it." He cleared histhroat and his tone grew firmer. "I couldn't do it, and I don't know asI shall be held responsible for it, either. The Bible says, 'As much aslieth in you, live peaceably with all men,'--and I s'pose that meanswomen too,--but it don't lie in me, and it never will, to keep my mouthshut while folks are advancing such notions as Katharine did thisafternoon. I did contend with her; I certainly did."

  The Northmore girls could not keep straight faces, and Stella broke intoa delighted giggle. "I'm sure 'twas your duty, grandpa, and I'm glad youdid it," she said. "What was it this time; woman's rights, or the follyof getting married, or what?"

  She glanced at her cousins as she asked the question, and Esther spokefirst. "It was education partly, and the question whether women oughtnot to be as free as men to choose what they shall do. I must say thatfor my part I thought Aunt Katharine made some real good points, thoughof course she needn't have been quite so bitter."

  "It was my speaking about Abner Sickles that stirred her up to beginwith," said the old gentleman, still addressing himself inhalf-apologetic tone to Aunt Elsie. "That put her in mind of his sisterAbigail, and how she worked herself to death helping him throughcollege."

  "I shouldn't wonder if helping Abner was the greatest comfort the poorgirl had," observed Aunt Elsie.

  The unemphatic way in which she sometimes made important suggestions wasone of Aunt Elsie's peculiarities. No one spoke for a minute, and sheturned the conversation away from Aunt Katharine by suddenly asking aquestion on a wholly different subject.