"SOME SAY"

NEIGHBOURS IN CYRUS

BY

LAURA E. RICHARDS

Author of "Captain January,""Melody," "Queen Hildegarde," "Five-Minute Stories," "When I Was YourAge," "Narcissa," "Marie," "Nautilus,"etc.

TWELFTH THOUSAND

BOSTON DANA ESTES &COMPANY PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1896,

BY ESTES & LAURIAT

All rights reserved

Colonial Press:

C. H. Simonds & Co., Boston, Mass.,U.S.A.

Electrotyped by Geo. C. Scott & Sons

"SOME SAY"

TO MY Dear Sister, FLORENCEHOWE HALL, THIS VOLUME ISAFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED

* * * * *

"SOME SAY."

Part I.

"And some say, she expects to get himmarried to Rose Ellen before the year'sout!"

"I want to know if she does!"

"Her sister married a minister, and herfather was a deacon, so mebbe shethinks she's got a master-key to theKingdom. But I don't feel so sure ofher gettin' this minister for Rose Ellen.Some say he's so wropped up in hisgarden truck that he don't know a galfrom a gooseberry bush. He! he!"

The shrill cackle was answered by a

slow, unctuous chuckle, as of a fat andwheezy person; then a door was closed,and silence fell.

The minister looked up apprehensively;his fair face was flushed, and his mild,blue eyes looked troubled. He gazed atthe broad back of his landlady, as shestood dusting, with minute care, thechina ornaments on the mantelpiece;but her back gave no sign. He coughedonce or twice; he said, "Mrs. Mellen!"tentatively, first low, then in his ordinaryvoice, but there was no reply. Was Mrs.Mellen deaf he had not noticed itbefore. He pondered distressfully for afew moments; then dropped his eyes,and the book swallowed him again. Yet

the sting remained, for when presentlythe figure at the mantelpiece turnedround, he looked up hastily, andflushed again as he met his hostess'gaze, calm and untroubled as a summerpool.

"There, sir!" said Mrs. Mellen,cheerfully. "I guess that's done to suit.Is there anything more I can do for youbefore I go "

The minister's mind hovered betweentwo perplexities; a glance at the bookbefore him decided their relativeimportance.

"Have you ever noticed, Mrs. Mellen,

whether woodcocks are more apt to flyon moonshiny nights, as White assuresus "

"Woodbox " said Mrs. Mellen. "Why,yes, sir, it's handy by; and when there'sno moon, the lantern always hangs inthe porch. But I'll see that Si Joneskeeps it full up, after this."

Decidedly, the good woman was deaf,and she had not heard. Could thoseharpies be right If any such idea as theysuggested were actually in his hostess'mind, he must go away, for his workmust not be interfered with, and hemust not encourage hopes, the ministerblushed again, and glanced around to

see if any one could see him.

But he was so comfortable here, andMiss Mellen was so intelligent, sohelpful; and this seemed the ideal spoton which to compile his New England"Selborne."

He sighed, and thought of thewoodcock again. Why should the birdprefer a moonshiny night Was it likelythat the creature had any appreciationof the beauties of nature Shakespeareuses the woodcock as a simile of folly,to express a person without brains. Ha!

The door opened, and Rose Ellen camein, her eyes shining with pleasure, her

hands full of gold and green.

"I've found the 'Squarrosa,' Mr.Lindsay!" she announced. "See, this isit, surely!"

The minister rose, and inspected theflowers delightedly. "This is it, surely!"he repeated. "Stem stout, hairy above;leaves large, oblong, or the lowerspatulate-oval, and tapering into amarginal petiole, serrate veiny; headsnumerous; seeds obtuse or acute; disk-flowers, 16 x 24. This is, indeed, atreasure, for Gray calls it 'rare in NewEngland.' I congratulate you, MissMellen."

"Late, sir " said Mrs. Mellen, calmly."Oh, no, 'tisn't hardly five o'clock yet.Still, 'tis time for me to be thinkin' ofgettin' supper."

"Don't you want I should make somebiscuit for supper, mother " asked RoseEllen, coming out of her raptcontemplation of the goldenrod thatGray condescended to call rare, he towhom all things were common.

Her mother made no answer.

"Don't you want I should make a panof biscuit " Rose Ellen repeated. Stillthere was no reply, and the girl turnedto look at her mother in some alarm.

"Why, mother, what is the matter whydon't you answer me "

"Your mother's deafness," the ministerput in, hurriedly, "seems suddenlyincreased: probably a cold, "

"Was you speakin' to me, Rose Ellen "said Mrs. Mellen.

"Why, yes!" said the girl, in distress.

"Why, mother, how did you get thiscold you seemed all right when I wentout."

"Gettin' old!" cried Mrs. Mellen. "'Tis

nothin' of the sort, Rose Ellen! I'vetook a cold, I shouldn't wonder. I wentout without my shawl just for a minute.I expect 'twas careless, but there! life istoo short to be thinkin' all the timeabout the flesh, 'specially when there'sas much of it as I have. I've benexpectin' I should grow hard of hearin',though, these two years past. TheBowlers do, you know, Rose Ellen,'long about middle life. There was yourUncle Lihu. I can hear him snort now,sittin' in his chair, like a pig for all theworld, and with no idea he was makin'a sound."

"But it's come on so sudden!" criedRose Ellen, in distress.

"That's Bowler!" said her mother."Bowler for all the world! They takethings suddin, whether it's hoarsin' up,or breakin' out, or what it is. There!you've heard me tell how my AuntPhoebe 'Lizabeth come out with spotsall over her face, when she was standin'up to be married. Chicken-pox it was,and they never knew where she got it;but my grand'ther said 'twas pureBowler, wherever it come from."

She gazed placidly at her daughter'stroubled face; then, patting her with herbroad hand, pushed her gently out ofthe room before her.

"Mr. Lindsay's heard enough of mybein' hard of hearin', I expect," shesaid, cheerfully, as they passed into thekitchen.

"Don't you fret, Rose Ellen! You won'thave to get a fog-horn yet awhile. Idon't know but it would be a goodplan for you to mix up a mess o'biscuit, if you felt to: Mr. Lindsay likesyour biscuit real well, I heard him sayso."

"That's what I was going to do," saidRose Ellen, still depressed. "I wish'tyou'd see the doctor, mother. I don'tbelieve but he could help your hearing,if you take it before it's got settled on

you."

"Well, I won't, certain!" said Mrs.Mellen. "The idea, strong and well as Ibe! Bowler blood's comin' out, that's all;and the only wonder is it hasn't comeout before."

All that day, and the next, the ministerdid not seem like himself. He was nomore absent-minded than usual,perhaps, that could hardly be. But hewas grave and troubled, and the usualhappy laugh did not come when RoseEllen checked him gently as he wasabout to put pepper into his tea. Severaltimes he seemed about to speak: his eyedwelt anxiously on the cream-jug, in

which he seemed to be seekinginspiration; but each time his heartfailed him, and he relapsed with a sighinto his melancholy reverie.

Rose Ellen was silent, too, and theburden of the talk fell on her mother.At supper on the second day, midwaybetween the ham and the griddle-cakes,Mrs. Mellen announced:

"Rose Ellen, I expect you'd better godown to Tupham to-morrow, and staya spell with your grandm'ther. Sheseems to be right poorly, and I expectit'd be a comfort to her to have youwith her. I guess you'd better get readyto-night, and Calvin Parks can take you

up as he goes along."

Rose Ellen and the minister bothlooked up with a start, and bothflushed, and both opened wide eyes ofastonishment.

"Why, mother!" said the girl. "I can't goaway and leave you now, with this coldon you."

Her mother did not hear her, so RoseEllen repeated the words in a clear,high-pitched voice, with a note ofanxiety which brought a momentaryshade to Mrs. Mellen's smooth brow.The next moment, however, the browcleared again.

"I guess you'd better go!" she saidagain. "It'd be a pity if Mr. Lindsay andI couldn't get along for a month or sixweeks; and I wrote mother yesterdaythat you would be up along to-morrow,so she'll be looking for you. I don't liketo have mother disappointed of a thingat her age, it gives her the palpitations."

"You wrote that I was coming!"repeated Rose Ellen. "And you nevertold me you was writing, mother I Ishould have liked to have knownbefore you wrote."

"Coat " said Mrs. Mellen. "Oh, yourcoat'll do well enough, Rose Ellen.

Why, you've only just had it bound new,and new buttons put on. I should takemy figured muslin, if I was you, andhave Miss Turner look at it and seehow you could do it over: she has goodideas, sometimes, and it'd be a littledifferent from what the girls here wasdoin', maybe. Anyway, I'd take it, andyour light sack, too. 'Twon't do noharm to have 'em gone over a little."

Rose Ellen looked ready to cry, but shekept the tears back resolutely.

"I don't want to leave you, with thisdeafness coming on!" she shouted, herusually soft voice ringing like a bugleacross the tea-table.

"There! there! don't you grow foolish,"her mother replied, with absolute calm.

"Why, I can hear ye as well as ever,when you raise your voice a mite, likethat. I should admire to know why youshould stay at home on my account. Isuppose I know my way about thehouse, if I be losin' my hearing just adite. It isn't going to spoil my cooking,that I can see; and I guess Mr. Lindsaywon't make no opposition to yourgoing, for any difference it'll make tohim."

Mr. Lindsay, thus appealed to,stammered, and blushed up to his eyes,

and stammered again; but finallymanaged to say, with more or lessdistinctness, that of course whateverwas agreeable to Mrs. and Miss Mellenwas agreeable to him, and that hebegged not to be considered in any wayin the formation of their plans.

"That's just what I was thinking!" saidhis hostess. "A man don't want nobotheration of plans. So that's settled,Rose Ellen."

Rose Ellen knew it was settled. She wasa girl of character and resolution, butshe had never resisted her mother's will,nor had any one else, so far as sheknew. She cried a good deal over her

packing, and dropped a tear on her silkwaist, the pride of her heart, and wassurprised to find that she did not care."There's no one there to care whether Ilook nice or not!" she said aloud; andthen blushed furiously, and lookedaround the room, fearfully, to be surethat she was alone.

Early next morning the crack of a whipwas heard, and Calvin Parks's voice,shouting cheerfully for his passenger.The minister, razor in hand, peepedbetween his shutters, and saw RoseEllen come from the house, wiping hereyes, and looking back, with anxiouseyes. A wave of feeling swept throughhim, and he felt, for the moment, that

he hated Mrs. Mellen. He had neverhated any one before in his innocentlife; while he was pondering on thisnew and awful sensation, the pale,pretty face had sunk back in the depthsof the old red-lined stage, the whipcracked, and Calvin drove away withhis prey.

Mrs. Mellen came out on the steps, andlooked after the stage. Then, with amovement singularly swift for so stouta person, she made a few paces downthe walk, and, turning, looked up at thewindows of the houses on either sideof her own. In both houses a figurewas leaning from a window, thrownhalf out over the sill, in an attitude of

eager inquiry. At sight of Mrs. Mellenthey dodged back, and only a slightwaving of curtains betrayed theirpresence. The good woman folded herarms deliberately, and stood for fiveminutes, absorbed in the distantlandscape; then she turned, and wentslowly back to the house.

"There!" she said, as she closed thedoor behind her. "That'll keep 'emoccupied for one while!" and there wasinfinite content in her tone.

Mr. Lindsay, coming in to breakfast,found his hostess beaming behind theteakettle, placid and cheerful as usual.He still hated her, and found difficulty

in replying with alacrity to her remarkson the beauty of the morning.

"I expect you and me'll have a rightcozy time together!" she announced."You no need to put yourself out totalk to me, 'cause I reelly don't seem tobe hearing very good; and I won't talkto you, save and except when you feelinclined. I know an elder does love tohave a quiet house about him. My sistermarried a minister, and my father was adeacon himself, so I'm accustomed tothe ways of the ministry."

Mr. Lindsay stirred his tea, gloomily.The words recalled to his mind thosewhich had so disturbed him a day or

two ago, just when all this queerbusiness of the deafness had come on.He remembered the spiteful tones ofthe two neighbours, and recalled howthe words had hissed in his ears. Hehad thought of going away himself, lesthe should encourage false hopes in thebreast of his gentle young friend or hermother; surely Rose Ellen, as he saidthe name to himself, he felt his earsgrowing pink, and knew that he hadnot said the name before, even tohimself; straightway said it again, toprove the absurdity of something, hewas not sure what, and felt his throatdry and hot. Now Rose Ellen herselfwas gone, and for an indefinite time.She had not gone willingly, of that he

was sure; but it was equally evident thather mother had no such thoughts asthose two harridans had suggested. Heglanced up furtively, to meet a broad,beaming glance, and the questionwhether he felt feverish any.

"You seem to flush up easy!" said Mrs.Mellen. "I should be careful, if I wasyou, Mr. Lindsay, and not go messinground ponds and such at this seasonof the year. It's just this time wecommonly look for sickness rising inthe air."

Mr. Lindsay stirred his tea again, andsighed. His mind seemed singularlydistracted; and that, too, when the most

precious moments of the year werepassing. He must put all other mattersout of his head, and think only of hisgreat work.

Had the Blackburnian Warbler beenseen in this neighbourhood, as he hadbeen told He could hardly believe insuch good fortune. The shy, mistrustfulbird, hunting the thickest foliage of thetallest forest trees, how should hislandlady's daughter have seen it whenshe was seeking for ferns yet herdescription had been exactly that of thebooks: "Upper parts nearly uniformblack, with a whitish scapular stripe anda large white patch in the middle of thewing coverts; an oblong patch " but she

had not been positive about the head.No, but she was positive as to the brightorange-red on chin, throat, and forepartof the breast, and the three white tail-feathers. Ah! why was she gone whywas she not here to show him the way,as she promised, to the place where shehad seen the rare visitor He mightpossibly have found the nest, that rarenest which Samuels never saw, whichonly Audubon had described:"composed externally of differenttextures, and lined with silky fibres andthin, delicate strips of bark, over whichlies a thick bed of feathers andhorsehair."

It should be found in a small fork of a

tree, should it five or six feet from theground, near a brook well, he mightstill search, the next time he went out;meanwhile, there were the ferns toanalyze, and that curious moss todetermine, if might be. "But mosses arealmost hopeless!" he said aloud, withan appealing glance across the table,where he was wont to look forsympathy and encouragement.

"Soap dish " said Mrs. Mellen, withalacrity.

"Well, I don't wonder you ask, Mr.Lindsay. Why, I found it full of frogs'eggs this very morning, and I hove 'emaway and scalt it out. It's drying in the

sun this minute, and I'll bring it rightup to your room directly."

She beamed on him, and left the room.Mr. Lindsay groaned; looked about himfor help, but found none, and retired,groaning, to his study.

Part II.

The minister had had a delightful butexhausting afternoon. He had gone tolook for the nest of a marsh-hen,which he had some reason to thinkmight be in a certain swamp, about fivemiles from the village. He did not find

the nest, but he found plenty of otherthings: his pockets bulged with mossesand roots, his hat was wound with acurious vine that might possibly beClematis Verticillaris, and both handswere filled with specimens of everyconceivable kind. Incidentally themosquitoes and black flies had foundhim: his face was purple, and, like thatof the lady at the Brick Lane Branchtea-party, "swellin' wisibly;" and bloodwas trickling down his well-shapednose from a bramble-scratch. He hadfallen down once or twice in the bog,with results to his clothes; andaltogether he presented a singular figureto the view of his parishioners as hestrode hastily through the street. Heads

were thrust out of windows, staid eyesrolled in horror, but the minister sawnothing. He was tired, and absorbed inhis new possessions. It was good to sitdown in his study, and spread histreasures out on the broad table, andgloat over them. A clump of dampmoss rested quietly on his new sermon,"The Slough of Despond," but he tookno note. He was looking for a place toput this curious little lizard in, and afteranxious thought selected the giltcelluloid box, lined with pink satin,which the Mission Circle had given himon Christmas for his collars and cuffs.He felt, vaguely, that it was not the rightplace for the lizard, but there seemed tobe nothing else in reach, except the

flitter-work pen-box, and Rose Ellenhad made that for him. Ah! if RoseEllen were here now, how much shecould help him! it was so much easierfor two to analyze than one. He at themicroscope, and Rose Ellencorroborating, correcting from thetextbook, it was a perfect arrangement.

The minister sighed heavily. Mrs.Mellen brought in his tea, for it wasWednesday evening, and he preferredan early cup of tea, and a modestsupper after the meeting. Fooddistracted his mind, he was apt to say,from thought, a statement which hislandlady treated with indulgentcontempt, as she had never known him

to remark the difference between "riz"bread and the soda article.

She set the cup down before him, andhe promptly dipped a fern root into it;then started back with a cry of dismay.

"Well indeed, sir!" said Mrs. Mellen, "Ishould think so, truly! What did you dothat for, and spoil your tea "

"The tea a that is, it is of noconsequence about the tea!" said Mr.Lindsay, hastily.

"I fear I have injured the root. Ithought it was water. Dear! dear! MissMellen was in the habit of bringing me

a glass of water when I brought plantshome."

Mrs. Mellen said nothing, but broughtthe water, and a fresh cup of tea; butMr. Lindsay had fallen into the depthsof the moss, and took no notice ofeither.

She left the room, but presentlyreturned, knitting in hand, and stood,unnoticed, in the doorway, glancingfrom time to time at the minister. Hecertainly was "a sight to behold," as shesaid to herself. She may have thoughtother things beside, but her face gaveno sign. Presently the bell began to ringfor Wednesday evening meeting. Mrs.

Mellen glanced again at the minister,but he heard nothing. The botany wasopen before him, and he was mutteringstrange words that sounded like witch-talk.

"Stamens six, hypogenous! anthersintrorse! capsule cartilaginous,loculicidally three-valved, scurfy-leavedepiphytic!" What did it all mean A slowflush crept over the woman's broad,placid face; her eyelids quivered, her eyeroamed restlessly about the room. Sheshifted her weight from one foot to theother, and breathed heavily, as if indistress; and still her eyes came back tothe slender figure in the great chair,bent in absorbed interest over the table.

Ding! dong! ding! the notes camedropping through the air, clear andresonant. Even a deaf person mighthear them, perhaps. Mrs. Mellen wasevidently struggling with herself. Onceshe opened her lips as if to speak; onceshe stepped forward with outstretchedhand, as if to shake the man intowakefulness and attention; but she didnot speak, and her hand dropped again;and presently the bell stopped, andSophronia Mellen went away to hersitting-room, hanging her head.

Half an hour later there was knockingat the door, and the sound of manyvoices, anxious voices, pitched high and

loud, on account of Mrs. Mellen'sdeafness.

"How's Mr. Lindsay When was he tooksick Have ye had the doctor "

"Do you think it's ketchin', Mis' MellenThink of all the young children in thisparish, if anythin' should get therounds! My! it's awful!"

"How does he look Some say he waspupple in the face when they see himcoming home through the street. Mosteverybody did see him, and he was asight! Apoplexy, most likely!"

"Has he ever had fits, think he don't

look fitty, but you never can tell."

"Have ye sent for his folks You'd feelbetter to, I sh'd think, if he's taken;some say he has a mother rollin' inwealth, down Brunswick way."

"Well, some say he ain't nothin' of thesort. Christiana Bean saw an aunt ofhis once, and she hadn't flesh enoughon her to bait a mouse-trap with,Christiana said so."

"Does he know you, Mis' Mellen it'sawful to see folks out of their heads; Idon't know how any one kin bear tosee it; you'd better let me come in andspell you a bit; you look clean tuckered

out with the fright you've had."

Mrs. Mellen stood and looked quietly atthe crowd of "members" that surgedand cackled about her.

"I could hear better if one'd speak at atime!" she said, mildly.

"Did you want to see Elder Lindsay it itmust be gettin' near meetin'-time, isn't it"

"Meetin'-time! meetin's over, and Mr.Lindsay never come nigh. Do you meanto say he ain't sick do you mean to say "

"What do you mean to say, Mis' Mellen

"

Mrs. Mellen held the door in her hand,and still gazed quietly at the excitedthrong. At length,

"Whatever's the matter with Mr.Lindsay," she said, in clear incisivetones, "I ain't going to let in no lunaticasylum to drive him clean out of hismind. Deacon Strong and DeaconTodd, if you'll step this way, I presumeMr. Lindsay'll be pleased to see you.And if the rest of you 'ud go homequiet, mebbe it might seem moreconsistent. There has been a meetin',you say the Baptists will be just aboutcomin' out now."

An hour later, the two deacons weretaking their leave of Mr. Lindsay. Theystood, hat in hand, and were looking atthe young man with pitying eyes. Theywere elderly men, of kind disposition.

"Well, Mr. Lindsay," Mr. Todd wassaying; "I guess we've said about allthere is to say. Of course 'twas a pity,and such things make talk; but 'twon'toccur again, I dare say. Some say "

"It may occur again," cried the youngminister. He was sitting with his head inhis hand, and despair in his face.

"It may occur again! I seem to have no

mind, no memory! I am unfit to be aminister of the Christian Church. Mybrethren, what shall I do "

The elder men exchanged glances: thenDeacon Strong stepped forward andlaid his hands on the young man'sshoulder, for he loved him.

"Mr. Lindsay," he said, kindly, "so far asI can see, there's only one thing thematter with you; you want a wife!"

"A wife!" repeated Charles Lindsay. Histone suggested that he had never heardof the article.

"A wife!" the deacon said again, with

emphasis; and his fellow deaconnodded assent.

"A sensible, clever young woman, whowill help you in parish matters, and be acomfort to you in every way, a hem! yes,in every way." The deacon reddenedthrough his beard, and glanced atDeacon Todd; but the latter was a kindman, and knew Mrs. Strong, and gazedout of the window.

"And and tell you when it was time formeeting. I don't know as you'd have tolook more'n a hundred miles for thevery young woman that would makethe right kind of helpmeet for you, butyou know best about that. Anyway, Mr.

Lindsay, it is not good for man to bealone, we have Scripture for that: andit's quite evident that it's particularlybad for you to be alone, with your ayour love of nature" (the deaconcaught sight of the lizard, peeringdisconsolately out of the gilt celluloidbox, and brought his remarks to a hastyconclusion). "And so we'll be going,Mr. Lindsay, and don't you fret aboutto-night's meeting, for we'll make it allright."

Mr. Lindsay bowed them out, withvague thanks, and muttered expressionsof regret. He hardly heard their adieux;the words that were saying themselvesover and over in his head were,

"You want a wife!"

Did he want a wife Was that what wasthe matter with him Was that why hewent about all day and every day, theselast weeks, feeling as if half of himwere asleep He had always been astrong advocate of the celibacy of theclergy, as far as his own case went.Nothing, he had always assuredhimself, should ever come between himand his work. A wife would be aperpetual distraction: she would wantmoney, and amusement, and athousand things that he never thoughtabout; and she would interfere with hissermons, and with his collections, and

and altogether, he would never marry.But now,

And what was it that happened onlythe other day, here in the village A manand his wife had been quarrelling, tothe scandal of the whole congregation.They were an elderly couple, and whenit came to smashing crockery andemptying pails of water over eachother, the minister felt it his duty tointerfere. So he called on the wife,intending to reason with her first alone,and then, when she was softened andconvinced, to call in the husband andreconcile them, and perhaps pray withthem, since both were "members." Butbefore he had spoken a dozen of his

well-arranged and logical sentences, hewas interrupted by loud and tearfuloutcries.

The lady never thought it would cometo this, no, never! Some thought shehad enough to bear without this, butshe knew how to submit to the will ofProvidence, and no one should say shestruv nor hollered. She knew what wasdue to a minister, even if he was onlyjust in pants; she only hoped Mr.Lindsay wouldn't see fit to say anythingto her husband. Take Reuben Meecherwhen he was roused, and tigers wastame by him: and if he should knowthat his wife was spoke to so, by themas wasn't born or thought of when

they was married, and nobody couldn'tsay but they had lived respectable forforty years, and now to come to this!The lady was well used to ministers,and some of the most aged in thecountry, and she knew what was due tothem; but for her part, she thought'twas well for ministers, as well asothers, to speak of what they'd hadexper'ence in, and then there would beno feeling!

The visit was not a success, nor did itcheer the minister to hear the oldcouple chuckling to each other as hewent sadly away, and to feel that theywere laughing at him.

But he was very humble, and he laidthe spiteful words to heart.

What did he know What had he to sayto his people, when it came to the real,terrible things of life What had he hadin his whole life, save kindness and asheltered home, and then study, and alittle divinity, and a little science He satand gazed at the image of himself inhis mind's glass, and found it agibbering phantom, with emptinesswhere should be eyes, and dry dustwhere should be living waters.

As he sat thus sadly pondering, thesound of voices struck upon his ear.The window was open, and now that

his mind was awake, there was noquestion of his hearing, when the twonext-door neighbours leaned out oftheir back windows, across Mrs.Mellen's back yard. He had grown toloathe the sound of those two voices,the shrill cackling one, and the fatchuckle that was even more hateful.What were they saying now

"You don't tell me she wants to git himfor herself speak jest a dite louder! Shecan't hear ye, and he's so muddled uphe never heard the bell for meetin',some say; but there's others think he'dben drinkin', and Deacon Strong andDeacon Todd jest leagued together withSophrony Mellen to hide it. He was

black in the face when he came home,and reelin' in his walk, for I see himwith these eyes."

Charles Lindsay started as if stung by avenomous snake. He put out his handto the window, but now the sharp voicebroke in, anxious to have its turn.

"Well, I shouldn't be a mite surprised if'twas so, Mis' Bean, and you've hadexperience, I'm sure, in such matters,after what you suffered with Mr. Bean.But what I was sayin', some do sayPhrony Mellen's bound to have theminister for herself, and that's why shesent Rose Ellen off, traipsin' way downto Tupham, when her grandma'am

don't need her no more'n a toad needsa tail."

"I want to know if they say that!"replied Mrs. Bean. "But you know,some say Rose Ellen's got a beau downto Tupham, and that's why she wentoff without askin' leave or license, andher ma deef and all. I see her go myself,and she went off early in the mornin',and if ever I see a person what you maycall slink away secret, like she'd donesomethin' to be 'shamed of, 'twas thatgirl. She knew what she was goin' for,well enough. Rose Ellen ain't no fool,for all she's as smooth as baked custard.Now you mark my words, Mis' Peake, "

At this moment, the back door openedwith a loud clang. Mrs. Mellen stood onthe doorstep, and her eyes were verybright. She said nothing, but gazedcalmly up and down the yard, as ifconsidering the beauty of the night.Then, after a few minutes, she turnedand scrutinized her neighbours'windows. Nothing was to be seen, onlya white muslin curtain waved gently inthe moonlight: nothing was to beheard, only a faint rustle, probably ofthe same curtain.

"It's an elegant night!" said Mrs. Mellen,aloud. "I thought I heard voices, butmy hearin' does play me such tricks,these days."

Her calm, sensible voice fell like balmon the distracted ears of the minister.He was soothed, he knew not why. Thehorrors that those harpies suggested,could there be truth in them Rose Ellenwith a his mind refused to frame thedetestable word! Was there anythingtrue in the world Was it all scandal andhatefulness and untruth

He rose and paced his study in anguishof mind, but his ears were still awake,he thought he never should regain thejoy of losing himself, and now anothersound came to them, the sound ofwheels. Why did his heart stop, andthen beat violently What was there in

the sound of wheels It was the latestage, of course, and Calvin Parks wasdriving fast, as usual, to get to hishome, five miles away, before teno'clock at night. But that stage camefrom Tupham, and Tupham meantRose Ellen. Rose Ellen, who was assmooth as baked custard, and who hada the wheels were slacking; the steadybeat of the horses' feet stopped; thestage had paused at the Widow Mellen'sdoor.

"Here we be!" said Calvin Parks. "Takemy hand, Rosy! so, thar she goes! Hopeye'll find yer ma right smart! Give hermy respects and tell her, wal, I swan!"

For the door flew open, and out ranthe minister, torn and stained andcovered with dust, and caught RoseEllen by both hands and drew heralmost forcibly into the house.

"Mother!" cried the girl. "How is she I Igot so scared, not hearing from her, Icouldn't stay another day, Mr. Lindsay!"

"Oh, your mother " said Mr. Lindsay,incoherently. "She a she seems to be inexcellent health, except for her deafness.It is I who am ill, Rose Ellen: very ill,and wanting you more than I couldbear!"

"Wanting me " faltered Rose Ellen, with

lips wide, with blue eyes brimmingover. "You, Mr. Lindsay, wanting me "

"Yes, Rose Ellen!" cried the minister.They were still standing in the passage,and he was still holding her hands, andit was quite absurd, only neither ofthem seemed to realize it.

"I have always wanted you, but I haveonly just found it out. I cannot live atall without you: I have been only halfalive since you went away. I want youfor my own, for always."

"Oh, you can have me!" cried RoseEllen, and the blue eyes brimmed overaltogether with happy shining tears.

"Oh, I was yours all the time, only Ididn't know you I didn't know "

She faltered, and then hurried on. "It itwasn't only that I was scared aboutmother, Mr. Lindsay. I couldn't stayaway from oh, some said some said youwere going to be married, and Icouldn't bear it, no, I couldn't!"

But when Charles Lindsay heard that,he drew Rose Ellen by both hands intothe study, and shut the door. And onlythe lizard knew what happened next.

* * * * *

It was a month later.

There had been a wedding, the prettiestwedding that the village had ever seen.The whole world seemed turned toroses, and the sweetest rose of all, RoseEllen Lindsay, had gone away on herhusband's arm, and Deacon Strong andDeacon Todd were shaking hands veryhard, and blowing peals of joy withtheir pocket-handkerchiefs. Mrs. Mellenhad preserved her usual calm aspect atthe wedding, and looked young enoughto be her own daughter, "some said," inher gray silk and white straw bonnet.But when it was all over, the weddingparty gone, and the neighboursscattered to their homes again,Sophronia Mellen did a strange thing.

She went round deliberately, andopened every window of her house.The house stood quite apart, with onlythe two houses close beside it on eitherhand, and no others till you came quiteinto the street itself. She opened everywindow to its utmost. Then she took atin pan, and a pair of tongs, and leanedout of the front parlour window, andscreamed three times, at the top of herlungs, beating meanwhile with all hermight upon the pan. Then she went tothe next window, and screamed andbanged again, and so on all over thehouse. There were twenty windows inher house, and by the time she hadgone the round, she was crimson andbreathless. Nevertheless, she managed

to put her last breath into a shriek ofsuch astounding volume that thewindows fairly rang. One last defiantclang of the tongs on the tin pan andthen she sat down quietly by the backparlour window, and settled herselfwell behind the curtain, and preparedto enjoy herself thoroughly. "They shallhave their fill this time!" she murmuredto herself; "and I shall get all the goodof it."

For some minutes there was deadsilence: the event had been too awful tobe treated lightly. At length a rustlingwas heard, and very cautiously a sharpnose, generously touched with colour,was protruded from the window of the

left-hand house.

"Mis' Bean," said the owner of thenose. "Be you there "

"Well, I should say I was!" was thereply; and Mrs. Bean's fat curls shooknervously out of her window.

"Maria Peake, what do you s'pose thismeans Ain't it awful Why, I've gotpalpitations to that degree, don't s'posethere's a robber in the house, do yewith all them weddin' presents about,'twould be a dreadful thing! 'Tain'tlikely he would spare her life, and shetryin' to give the alarm like that! Mostlikely she's layin' dead this minute, and

welterin' in her "

"Sssssssh!" hissed Mrs. Peake, in adeadly whisper. "Melissa Bean, youwon't let a person hear herself think.'Tain't no robber, I tell ye! She's goneout of her mind, Phrony Mellen has, assure as you're a breathin' woman!"

"You don't tell me she has!" Mrs. Beanleaned further out, her eyes distendedwith awful curiosity, her fat lipsdropping apart. She was not a pleasantobject, the hidden observer thought;but she was no worse than the skinnycabbage-stalk which now stretcheditself far out from the oppositewindow.

"I tell ye," Mrs. Peake hissed, still in thatserpent-whisper, the most penetratingsound that ever broke stillness, "She'sas crazy as a clo'esline in a gale o' wind.Some say she's wore an onsettled eyefor six weeks past, and she glared at meyesterday, when I run in to borry anegg, same as if I was one wild animaland she was another. Ssssh! 'Tis Bowler,I tell ye! They go that way, jest as oftenas they git a chance! I call it an awfuljedgment on Elder Lindsay, bein'married into that family. Some say hismother besought him on her bendedknees, but he was clean infatooated. Ideclare to you, Mis' Bean, I'm terrifiedmost to death, to think of you and me

alone here, so near to a ravin' lunatic. Idon't think nothin' of robbers,alongside o' madness. She might creepin while you're standin' there, yourhouse is more handy by than mine,'count of there bein' no fence, and "

"Yah! bah! ha! ha! ha! hurrah!" soundedin sharp, clear tones from Mrs. Mellen'swindow. Two ghastly faces, white withactual terror, gazed at each other for aninstant, then disappeared; andimmediately after was heard a sound ofbolts being driven home, and of heavyfurniture being dragged about.

But Mrs. Mellen sat and fanned herself,being somewhat heated, and gazed

calmly at the beauty of the prospect.

"I've enjoyed myself real well!" she said."I couldn't free my mind, not whileRosy and Mr. Lindsay was round; I'vehad a real good time."

She fanned herself placidly, and thenadded, addressing the universe ingeneral, with an air of ineffable goodwill:

"I shouldn't wonder if my hearin'improved, too, kind o' suddin, same asit came on. That's Bowler, too! It's realconvenient, bein' a Bowler!"

* * * * *

NEIGHBOURS IN CYRUS

NEIGHBOURS IN CYRUS.

"Hi-Hi!" said Miss Peace, looking outof the window. "It is really raining. Isn'tthat providential, now "

"Anne Peace, you are enough toprovoke a saint!" replied a peevishvoice from the furthest corner of theroom. "You and your providences aremore than I can stand. What do you

mean this time, I should like to know thepicnic set for to-day, and every soul inthe village lottin' on goin', 'xcept thosewho would like best to go and can't. I'vebeen longin' for these two years to goto a picnic and it's never ben so's Icould. And now, jest when I could ha'gone, this affliction must needs cometo me. And then to have you rejoicin''cause it rains!"

The speaker paused for breath, andMiss Peace answered mildly: "I'm realsorry for you, Delia, you know I am;and if the' was any way of getting youto the grove, but what I was thinkingof, you know I couldn't finish JennyMiller's dress last night, do what I

could; and seeing it raining now, thinksI, they'll have to put off the picnic tillto-morrow or next day, and then Jenniecan go as nice as the rest. She does needa new dress, more than most of thegirls who has them. And she's so sweetand pretty, it's a privilege to do for her.That's all I was thinking, Delia."

Mrs. Delia Means sniffed audibly, thenshe groaned.

"Your leg hurting you " cried MissPeace, with ready sympathy.

"Well, I guess you'd think so," was thereply. "If you had red-hot needles runinto your leg. Not that it's any matter to

anybody."

"Hi-hi," said Miss Peace, cheerily. "It'stime the bandages was changed, Delia.You rest easy just a minute, and I'll runand fetch the liniment and give you arub before I put on the new ones."

Mrs. Means remaining alone, it isproper to introduce her to the reader.She and Miss Peace were the rivalseamstresses of Cyrus Village; that is,they would have been rivals, if Mrs.Means had had her way; but rivalry wasimpossible where Anne Peace was oneof the parties. She had alwaysmaintained stoutly that Delia Meansneeded work a sight more than she did,

having a family, and her husband soweakly and likely to go off withconsumption 'most any time. Many andmany a customer had Anne turnedfrom her door, with her pleasant smile,and "I don't hardly know as I could,though I should be pleased toaccommodate you; but I presume likelyMis' Means could do it for you. Shedoos real nice work, and I don't knowas she's so much drove just now as Iam."

Delia Case had been a schoolmate ofAnne Peace's. She was a pretty girl, witha lively sense of her own importanceand a chronic taste for a grievance. Shehad married well, as every one thought,

but in these days her husband had losthis health and Delia was obliged to puther shoulder to the wheel. She sewedwell, but there was a sigh every time herneedle went into the cloth, and a groanwhen it came out.

"A husband and four children, andhave to sew for a living!" this was theburden of her song; and it had becomefamiliar to her neighbours since DavidMeans had begun to "fail up," as theysay in Cyrus.

Anne Peace had always been thefaithful friend of "Delia Dumps." (Itwas Uncle Asy Green who had givenher the name which stuck to her

through thick and thin Uncle Asybelieved in giving people their due, andthought "Anne made a dreffle fool ofherself, foolin' round with that womanat all.") Anne had been her faithfulfriend, and never allowed people tomake fun of her if she were present.

A week before my story opens, whenMrs. Means fell down and broke herleg, just as she was passing Miss Peace'shouse, the latter lady declared it to be aspecial privilege.

"I can take care of her," she explainedto the doctor, when he expressed regretat being obliged to forbid the sufferer'sbeing moved for some weeks, "just as

well as not and better. David isn't fit tohave the care of her, and well, doctor, Ican say to you, who know it as well as Ido, that Delia mightn't be the bestperson for David to have round himjust now, when he needs cheering up.Then, too, I can do her sewing alongwith my own, as easy as think; work'sslack now, and there's nothing I'mspecially drove with. I've been wishingright along that I could do somethingto help, now that David is so poorly.I'm kin to David, you know, so take itby and large, doctor, it doos seem like aprivilege, doesn't it "

The doctor growled. He was not fondof Mrs. Means.

"If you can get her moved out ofGrumble Street and into ThanksgivingAlley," he said, "it'll be a privilege forthis village; but you can't do it, Anne.However, there's no use talking to you,you incorrigible optimist. You're theworst case I ever saw, Anne Peace, and Ihaven't the smallest hope of curingyou. Put the liniment on her leg as Itold you, and I'll call in the morning.Good day!"

"My goodness me, what was he sayingto you " Mrs. Means asked as Annewent back into the bedroom. "You'vegot something that you'll never get wellof Well, Anne Peace, that does seem

the cap sheaf on the hull. Heartcomplaint, I s'pose it is; and whatwould become of me, if you was to bestruck down, as you might be anyminute of time, and me helpless here,and a husband and four children athome and he failin' up. You did lookdretful gashly round the mouthyisterday, I noticed it at the time, but ofcourse I didn't speak of it. Why, here Ishould lay, and might starve to death,and you cold on the floor, for all thehelp I should get." Mrs. Means shedtears, and Anne Peace answered with asnear an approach to asperity as her softvoice could command.

"Don't talk foolishness, Delia. I'm not

cold yet, nor likely to be. Here, let me'tend to your leg; it's time I was gettingdinner on this minute."

It continued to rain on the picnic day;no uncertain showers, to keep up a chilland fever of fear and hope among theyoung people, but a good, honestdownpour, which everybody pasttwenty must recognize as being just thething the country needed. Jenny Millercame in, smiling all over, though sheprofessed herself "real sorry for themas was disappointed." "Tudie Peasleesat down and cried, when she saw 'twasrainin'," she said, as she prepared togive her dress the final trying-on."There, Miss Peace. I did try to feel for

her, but I just couldn't, seems though.Oh, ain't that handsome that little puffis too cute for anything! I do thinkyou've been smart, Miss Peace. Not thatyou ever was anything else."

"You've a real easy figure to fit, Jenny,"Miss Peace replied, modestly. "I guessthat's half the smartness of it. It doosset good, though, I'm free to think. Thestyles is real pretty this summer,anyhow. Don't that set good, Delia "

She turned to Mrs. Means, who waslying on the sofa (they call it a l'unge inCyrus), watching the trying-on withkeenly critical eyes.

"Ye-es," she said. "The back sets goodenough, but 'pears to me there's awrinkle about the neck that I shouldn'tlike to see in any work of mine. I'vealways ben too particklar, though; it'stime thrown away, but I can't bear tosend a thing out 'cept jest as it shouldbe."

"It don't wrinkle, Mis' Means!" criedJenny, indignantly. "Not a mite. I wasturning round to look at the back ofthe skirt, and that pulled it; there ain't asign of a wrinkle, Miss Peace, so don'tyou think there is."

Mrs. Means sniffed, and said somethingabout the change in young folks'

manners since she was a girl. "If I'd ha'spoke so to my elders I won't saybetters, for folks ain't thought much ofwhen they have to sew for a livin', witha husband and four children to keer forI guess I should ha' found it out inpretty quick time."

"Hi-hi!" said Miss Peace, soothingly."There, Delia, Jenny didn't meananything. Jenny, I guess I'll have to takeyou into the bedroom, so's I can pullthis skirt out a little further. This roomdoos get so cluttered with all my thingsround." She hustled Jenny, swelling likean angry partridge, into the next room,and closed the door carefully.

"You don't want to anger Mis' Means,dear," she said gently, taking the pinsout of her mouth for freer speech. "Shemay be jest a scrap pudgicky now andagain, but she's seen trouble, you know,and she doos feel it hard to be laid up,and so many looking to her at home.Turn round, dear, jest a dite there!"

"I can't help it, Miss Peace," said Jenny."There's no reason why Mis' Meansshould speak up and say the neckwrinkled, when anybody can see it setslike a duck's foot in the mud. I don'tmind what she says to me, but I ain'tgoin' to see you put upon, nor yet otherfolks ain't. I should like to know! andthat wrapper she cut for Tudie Peaslee

set so bad, you'd think she'd fitted it onthe pump in the back yard, Mis' Peasleesaid so herself."

"Hi-hi!" cried Anne Peace, softly, withan apprehensive glance toward thedoor; "don't speak so loud, Jennie.Tudie ain't so easy a form to fit as you,not near. And you say she was real putabout, do ye, at the picnic being put off"

"She was so!" Jenny assented, seeingthat the subject was to be changed."She'd got her basket all packed lastnight, she made so sure 'twas goin' tobe fine to-day. Chicken sandwiches, shehad, and baked a whole pan of sponge-

drops, jest because some one you knowwho is fond of 'em." Miss Peacenodded sagely, with her mouth full ofpins, and would have smiled if shecould; "and now they've put it off tillSaturday, 'cause the minister can't gobefore then, and every livin' thing willbe spoiled."

"Dear, dear!" cried Miss Anne, her kindface clouding over; "that does seem toobad, don't it all those nice things! andTudie makes the best sponge-cakes Iever eat, pretty nigh."

Jenny smiled, and stretched her handtoward a basket she had brought. "Theywon't really be wasted, Miss Peace," she

said. "Tudie thought you liked 'em, andI've got some of 'em here for you, thisvery minute. You was to eat 'em foryour own supper, Tudie told me to tellyou so."

"Well, I do declare, if that isn'tthoughtful!" exclaimed Miss Peace,looking much gratified. "Tudie is asweet girl, I must say. Delia is real fondof cake, and she's been longing forsome, but it doos seem as if I couldn'tfind time to make it, these days."

"I should think not!" cried Jenny (whowas something of a pepper-pot, it mustbe confessed), "I should think not,when you have her to take care of, and

her work and yours to do, and all. And,Miss Peace, Tudie meant the sponge-drops for you, every one. She told meso."

"Yes, dear, to be sure she did, and that'swhy I feel so pleased, just as much as ifI had eaten them. But bread is better forme, and why! if she hasn't sent a wholedozen. One, two, three yes, a dozen,and one over, sure as I stand here. Now,that I call generous. And, I'll tell youwhat, dearie! Don't say a word, for Iwouldn't for worlds have Tudie feel tothink I was slighting her, or didn'tappreciate her kindness; but well, I havewanted to send some little thing roundto that little girl of Josiah Pincher's, that

has the measles, and I do suppose she'dbe pleased to death with some of thesesponge-drops. Hush! don't say a word,Jenny! it would be a real privilege to me,now it would. And you know it isn'tthat I don't think the world of Tudie,and you, too; now, don't you "

Jenny protested, half-laughing, andhalf-crying; for Tudie Peaslee haddeclared herself ready to bet that MissPeace would not eat a single one of thesponge-drops, and Jenny had vowedshe should. But would she or wouldshe not, before ten minutes were overshe had promised to leave the sponge-drops at the Pinchers' door as she wentby, for little Geneva. There was no

resisting Miss Peace, Tudie was right;but suddenly a bright idea struck Jenny,just as she was putting on her hat andpreparing to depart. Seizing one of thesponge-drops, she broke off a bit, andfairly popped it into Miss Peace'smouth, as the good lady was going tospeak. "It's broke, now," she cried, inhigh glee, "it's broke in two, and youcan't give it to nobody. Set right down,Miss Peace, and let me feed you, sameas I do my canary bird." She pushed thelittle dressmaker into a chair, and thebits followed each other in such quicksuccession that Miss Peace could makeno protest beyond a smothered, "Oh,don't ye, dear; now don't! that's enough!my stars, Jenny, what do you think my

mouth's made of " (Crunch!) "There,dear, there! It is real good oh, dear! notso fast. I shall choke! Tell Tudie no,dearie, not another morsel!" (Crunch.)"Well, Jenny Miller, I didn't think youwould act so, now I didn't."

The sponge-cake was eaten, and Jenny,with a triumphant kiss on the little rosy,withered-apple cheek, popped her headin at the parlour door to cry, "Goodday, Mis' Means!" and flew laughingaway with her victory and her cakes.

"Well, Anne Peace," was Mrs. Means'sgreeting, as her hostess came back,looking flushed and guilty, and wipingher lips on her apron, "how you can

stand havin' that Miller girl round herepasses me. She'd be the death of me, Iknow that; but it's lucky other folksain't so feelin' as I am, I always say. Ofall the forward, up-standin' tykes ever Isee but there! it ain't to be supposedanybody cares whether I'm sassed orwhether I ain't."

Saturday was bright and fair, and AnnePeace stood at the window with abeaming smile, watching the girls troopby on their way to the picnic. She hadmoved Mrs. Means's sofa out of thecorner, so that she could see, too, andthere was a face at each window. MissPeace was a little plump, partridge-likewoman, with lovely waving brown hair,

and twinkling brown eyes. She hadnever been a beauty, but people alwaysliked to look at her, and the youngpeople declared she grew prettier everyyear. Mrs. Means was tall and weedy,with a figure that used to be calledwillowy, and was now admitted to belank; her once fair complexion hadfaded into sallowness, and her light hairhad been frizzed till there was little leftof it. Her eyebrows had gone up, andthe corners of her mouth had gonedown, so that her general effect wasdepressing in the extreme.

"There go Tudie and Jenny!" cried MissPeace, in delight. "If they ain't a prettypair, then I never saw one, that's all.

Jenny's dress doos set pretty, if I do sayit; and after all, it's her in it that makes itlook so well. There comes the minister,Delia. Now I'm glad the roses are outso early. He doos so love roses, Mr.Goodnow does. And the honeysuckleis really a sight. Why, this is the firsttime you have fairly seen the garden,Delia, since you came. Isn't it lookingpretty "

"I never did see how you could haveyour garden right close 't onto the streetthat way, Anne," was the reply."Everybody 't comes by stoppin' andstarin', and pokin' their noses throughthe fence. Look at them boys, now! why,if they ain't smellin' at the roses, the

boldfaced brats. Knock at the winder,Anne, and tell 'em to git out. Shoo! beoff with you!" She shook her fist at thewindow, but, fortunately, could notreach it.

"Hi-hi!" said Anne Peace. "You don'tmean that, Delia. What's roses for butto smell I do count it a privilege, tohave folks take pleasure in my garden."She threw up the window, and noddedpleasantly to the children. "Take a rose,sonny, if you like 'em," she said. "Taketwo or three, there's enough for all.Whose little boys are you " she added,as the children, in wondering delight,timidly broke off a blossom or two."Mis' Green's, over to the Corners!

Now I want to know! have you grownso 't I didn't know you and how's yourmother Jest wait half a minute, and I'llsend her a little posy. There's someother things besides roses, perhapsshe'd like to have a few of."

She darted out, and filled the boys'hands with pinks and mignonette,pansies and geraniums.

It was not a large garden, this of AnnePeace's, but every inch of space wasmade the most of. The little square andoblong beds lay close to the fence, andfrom tulip-time to the coming of frostthey were ablaze with flowers. Nothingwas allowed to straggle, or to take up

more than its share of room. The roseswere tied firmly to their neat greenstakes; the crown-imperials noddedover a spot of ground barely largeenough to hold their magnificence;while the phlox and sweet-williamactually had to fight for their standing-room.

It was a pleasant sight, at all odd timesof the day, to see Miss Peace bendingover her flowers, snipping off deadleaves, pruning, and tending, all withloving care.

Many flower-lovers are shy of pluckingtheir favourites, and I recall one rose-fancier, whose gifts, like those of the

Greeks, were dreaded by hisneighbours, as the petals were alwaysready to drop before he could make uphis mind to cut one of the preciousblossoms; but this was not the casewith Anne Peace. Dozens of shallowbaskets hung in her neat back entry,and they were filled and sent, filled andsent, all summer long, till one wouldhave thought they might almost findtheir way about alone. It is a positivefact that her baskets were alwaysbrought back, "a thing imaginationboggles at;" but perhaps this wasbecause the neighbours liked thembetter full than empty.

"Makin' flowers so cheap," Mrs. Means

would say, "seems to take the wuth of'em away, to my mind; but I'm toofeelin', I know that well enough. Anne,she's kind o' callous, and she don'tthink of things that make me squinch,seem's though."

Weeks passed on, the broken leg washealed, and Mrs. Means departed to herown house. "I s'pose you'll miss me,Anne," she said, at parting, "I shall you;and you have ben good to me, if 't hasben kind o' dull here, so few comin'and goin'." (Miss Peace's was generallythe favourite resort of all the youngpeople of the village, and half the oldones, but the "neighbouring" haddropped off, since Mrs. Means had

been there.) "Good-by, Anne, andthank you for all you've done. I feel tobe glad I've been company for you,livin' alone as you do, with no husbandnor nothin' belongin' to you."

"Good-by, Delia," replied Anne Peace,cheerfully. "Don't you fret about me.I'm used to being alone, you know; andit's been a privilege, I'm sure, to dowhat I could for you, so long as we'vebeen acquainted. My love to David, anddon't forget to give him the syrup I putin the bottom of your trunk for him."

"'Twon't do him any good!" cried Mrs.Means, as the wagon drove away,turning her head to shout back at her

hostess. "He's bound to die, David is.He'll never see another spring, I tellhim, and then I shall be left a widder,with four children and "

"Oh, gerlang! gerlang, up!" shoutedCalvin Parks, the stage-driver, whosestock of patience was small; the horsestarted, and Mrs. Means's wails diedaway in the distance.

In this instance the predictions of thedoleful lady seemed likely to beverified; for David Means continued to"fail up." Always a slight man, he wasnow mere skin and bone, and hischeerful smile grew pathetic to see. Hewas a distant cousin of Anne Peace's,

and had something of her placiddisposition; a mild, serene man, bearinghis troubles in silence, finding hishappiness in the children whom heloved almost passionately. He hadmarried Delia Case because she waspretty, and because she wanted to marryhim; had never known, and wouldnever know, that he might have had avery different kind of wife. PerhapsAnne Peace hardly knew herself thatDavid had been the romance of herlife, so quickly had the thought beenput away, so earnestly had she hopedfor his happiness; but she admittedfrankly that she "set by him," and shewas devoted to his children.

"Can nothing be done " she asked thegood doctor one day, as they came awaytogether from David's house, leavingDelia shaking her head from thedoorsteps. "Can nothing be done,doctor it doos seem as if I couldn'tbear to see David fade away so, and nottry anything to stop it."

Doctor Brown shook his headthoughtfully. "I doubt if there's muchchance for him, Anne," he said kindly."David is a good fellow, and if I sawany way it might be possible, if hecould be got off to Florida before coldweather comes on there is a chance; butI don't suppose it could be managed.He has no means, poor fellow, save

what he carries in his name."

"Florida " said Anne Peace,thoughtfully; and then she straightwayforgot the doctor's existence, andhurried off along the street, with headbent and eyes which saw nothing theyrested on.

Reaching her home, where all theflowers smiled a bright welcome,unnoticed for once, her first action wasto take out of a drawer a little bluebook, full of figures, which she studiedwith ardour. Then she took a cleansheet of paper, and wrote certain wordsat the top of it; then she got out herbest bonnet.

Something very serious was on handwhen Miss Peace put on her bestbonnet. She had only had it four years,and regarded it still as a sacred object,to be taken out on Sundays andreverently looked at, then put back inits box, and thought about while shetied the strings of the ten-year-oldvelvet structure, which was quite asgood as new. Two weddings had seenthe best bonnet in its grandeur, andthree funerals; but no bells, eithersolemn or joyous, summoned her to-day, as she gravely placed the preciousbonnet on her head, and surveyed herimage with awestruck approval in thesmall mirror over the mantelpiece.

"It's dreadful handsome!" said MissPeace, softly. "It's too handsome forme, a great sight, but I want to look mybest now, if ever I did."

It was at Judge Ransom's door that sherang first; a timid, apologetic ring, as ifshe knew in advance how busy thejudge would be, and how wrong it wasof her to intrude on his precious time.But the judge himself opened the door,and was not at all busy, but delighted tohave a chance to chat with his oldfriend, whom he had not seen for amonth of Sundays. He made her comein, and put her in the biggest armchair(which swallowed her up so that hardly

more than the bonnet was visible), anddrew a footstool before her little feet,which dangled helplessly above it; thenhe took his seat opposite, in anotherbig chair, and said it was a fine day, andthen waited, seeing that she hadsomething of importance to say.

Miss Peace's breath came short andquick, and she fingered her reticulenervously. She had not thought itwould be quite so dreadful as this."Judge," she said and paused,frightened at the sound of her voice,which seemed to echo in a ghostlymanner through the big room.

"Well, Miss Peace!" said the judge,

kindly. "Well, Anne, what is it How canI serve you Speak up, like a good girl.Make believe we are back in the littlered schoolhouse again, and you areprompting me in my arithmetic lesson."

Anne Peace laughed and coloured."You're real kind, judge," she said. "Iwanted 'twas only a little matter" shestopped to clear her throat, feeling thepainful red creep up her cheeks, andover her brow, and into her very eyes, itseemed; then she thought of David,and straightway she found courage, andlifted her eyes and spoke out bravely."David Means, you know, judge; he isfailing right along, and it doos seem asif he couldn't last the winter. But

Doctor Brown thinks that if he shouldgo to Florida, it might be so 't he couldbe spared. So David hasn't meanshimself, of course, what with his poorhealth and his large family, and somethought that if we could raise asubscription right here, among thefolks that has always known David, itmight be so 't he could go. What doyou think, judge "

The judge nodded his head,thoughtfully.

"I don't see why it couldn't be done,Miss Peace," he said, kindly. "David is agood fellow, and has friends whereverhe is known; I should think it might

very well be done, if the right persontakes it up."

"I I've had no great experience,"faltered Anne Peace, looking down,"but I'm kin to David, you know, andas he has no one nearer living, I took itupon myself to carry round a paperand see what I could raise. I came toyou first, judge, as you've always been agood friend to David. I've got twenty-five dollars already "

"I thought you said you came to mefirst," said the judge, holding out hishand for the paper. "What's this Afriend, twenty-five dollars "

"Yes," said Anne Peace, breathlessly."They they didn't wish their namementioned "

"Oh, they didn't, didn't they " mutteredthe judge, looking at her over hisspectacles. Such a helpless look met histhe look of hopeless innocence tryingto deceive and knowing that it was notsucceeding that a sudden dimness cameinto his own eyes, and he was fain totake off his spectacles and wipe them,just as if he had been looking throughthem. And through the mist he seemedto see not Miss Anne Peace, in her bestbonnet and her cashmere shawl, butanother Anne Peace, a little, brown-eyed, slender maiden, sitting on a

brown bench, looking on with rapturewhile David Means ate her luncheon.

It was the judge's turn to clear histhroat.

"Well, Anne," he said, keeping his eyeson the paper, "this this unknown friendhas set a good example, and I don't seethat I can do less than follow it. Youmay put my name down for twenty-five, too."

"Oh, judge," cried Miss Peace, withshining eyes. "You are too good. Ididn't expect, I'm sure well, you arekind!"

"Not at all! not at all!" said the judge,gruffly (and indeed, twenty-five dollarswas not so much to him as it was to"them," who had made the firstcontribution).

"You know I owe David Meanssomething, for licking him when he "

"Oh, don't, Dan'el judge, I should say,"cried Anne Peace, in confusion. "Don'tyou be raking up old times. I'm sure Ithank you a thousand times, and so willDelia, when she "

"No, she won't," said the judge. "Tellthe truth, Anne Peace! Delia will say Imight have given fifty and never missed

it. There! I won't distress you, my dear.Good day, and all good luck to you!"and so ended Miss Peace's first call.

With such a beginning, there was nodoubt of the success of thesubscription. Generally, in Cyrus,people waited to see what JudgeRansom and Lawyer Peters gave to anycharity, before making their owncontribution. "Jedge Ransom has putdown five dollars, has he Well he'swuth so much, and I'm wuth so much.Guess fifty cents will be about the rightfigger for me:" this is the course ofreasoning in Cyrus. But with anunknown friend starting off withtwenty-five dollars and Judge Ransom

following suit, it became apparent toevery one that David Means must go toFlorida, whatever happened. The dollarand five-dollar subscriptions poured inrapidly, till, one happy day, Anne Peacestood in her little room and countedthe full amount out on the table, andthen sat down (it was not her habit tokneel, and she would have thought ittoo familiar, if not actually popish) andthanked God as she had never found itnecessary to thank Him for any of thegood things of her own life.

So David Means went to Florida, andhis wife and two children went withhim. This had been no part of theoriginal plan, but at the bare idea of his

going without her, Mrs. Means hadraised a shrill cry of protest. "WhatDavid go down there, and she and thechildren stay perishing at home sheguessed not. If Florida was good forDavid, it was good for her, too, and shelaid up ever sence spring, as she mightsay, and with no more outing than awoodchuck in January. Besides, whowas to take care of David, she'd like toknow Mis' Porter's folks, who had aplace there She'd like to know if shewas to be beholden to Jane Porter'sfolks for taking care of her lawfulhusband, and like enough laying himout, for she wasn't one to blind herself,nor yet to set herself against the will ofProvidence." Doctor Brown stormed

and fumed, but Anne Peace beggedhim to be quiet, and "presumed likely"she could raise enough to cover theexpenses for Delia and the two olderchildren. 'Twas right and proper, ofcourse, that his wife should go withhim, and David wouldn't have anypleasure in the trip if he hadn't littleJaney and Willy along. He did set so bythose children, it was a privilege to seethem together; he was always one tomake of children, David was.

She did raise the extra money, this sweetsaint, but she ate no meat for a month,finding it better for her health. Joey andGeorgie Means, however, never wantedfor their bit of steak at noon, and grew

fat and rosy under Miss Peace's kindlyroof.

It was a pathetic sight when the sickman took leave of the little group offriends and neighbours that gatheredon the platform at the station to bidhim farewell. He had lost courage, poorDavid; perhaps he had not very muchto start with, and things had gone hardwith him for a long time. He knew heshould never see these faces again, thishomely, friendly place. He gazed aboutwith wistful eyes, noting every spot inthe bare little station. He had known itall by heart, ever since he was a child,for his father had been station-master.He could have built the whole thing

over, with his eyes shut, he thought,and now he should never see it again.Yet he was glad to go, in a way, glad tothink, at least, that he should die warm,as his wife expressed it, and that histired eyes were going to look on greenand blossoming things, instead of thecold, white beauty which meant winterto him.

He had scarcely ever left Cyrus formore than a day or two; he had a vagueidea that it was not creditable to go tothe other world, and be able to give solittle account of this one. Now, at least,he should be able to look his seafaringgrandfather and his roving uncle in theface, if so be he should happen to meet

them "over yender."

He stood on the platform with hisyoungest child clasped close in hisarms. This was the hardest part of all,to leave the children. His wife and thetwo older children had already takentheir places in the car, and the good-natured conductor stood with hiswatch in his hand, willing to give Davidevery second he conscientiously could.He came from East Cyrus himself, andwas a family man.

Anne Peace stood close by, holding fastthe hand of little Joey. Strange soundswere in her ears, which she did notrecognize as the beating of her own

heart; she kept looking over hershoulder, to see what was coming. Hereyes never left David's face, but theywere hopeful, even cheerful eyes. Shethought he would come back muchbetter, perhaps quite well. Doctor hadsaid there was a chance, and she didhear great things of Florida.

And now the conductor put up hiswatch and hardened his heart. "Come,David, better step inside now. Allaboard!"

"Good-by, David!" cried DoctorBrown, waving a friendly hand.

"Good-by, David!" cried Anne Peace,

lifting little Joey in her arms, though hewas far too heavy for her.

"Look at father, Joey dear, throw a kissto father; good-by, good-by, David!"The train moved out of the station, butDavid Means, his eyes fixed on thefaces of his children, had forgotten tolook at Anne Peace.

Winter came, and a bitter winter it was.No one in Cyrus could remember suchsteady cold, since the great winter ofsixty years ago, when the doctor'sgrandfather was frozen to death,driving across the plains to visit a poorwoman. The horse went straight to theplace, his head being turned that way

and his understanding being good; butwhen the farmer came out with hislantern, there sat the old doctor stiffand dead in his sleigh. Those were thedays when people, even doctors, hadnot learned how to wrap up, and woulddrive about all winter with high, stiffhats and one buffalo robe, not tuckedin, as we have them nowadays, butdropping down at their feet. There wassmall chance of our Doctor Brown'sfreezing to death, in his well-linedsleigh, with his fur cap pulled downover his nose and his fur coat buttonedup to his chin and the great robestucked round him in a scientificmanner. Still, for all that, it was a bitterwinter, and a good many people in

Cyrus and elsewhere, who had no furcoats, went cold by day and lay cold bynight, as one good lady patheticallyexpressed it. There was little snow, andwhat there was fell in wonderfulcrystals, fairy studies in geometry, whichdelighted the eyes of Joey and GeorgieMeans, as they trotted to school, withMiss Peace's "nuby" over one little headand her shawl over the other. Everymorning the sun rose in a clear sky,shining like steel; every evening thesame sky glowed with wonderful tintsof amethyst and tender rose, fadinggradually, till all was blue once more,and the stars had it all their own way,throbbing with fierce, cold light.

It was a great winter for Joey andGeorgie! They never thought of itsbeing too cold, for every morning theirtoes were toasted over the fire beforeschooltime, as if they had beenmuffins, and they were sent off niceand hot, with a baked potato in eachpocket, in case their hands should becold through the two pairs of thickmittens which Aunt Peace hadprovided.

Then, when they came home, dinnerwas waiting, such a dinner as they werenot in the habit of having; a littlemutton pie, or a smoking Irish stew,with all the dumplings and gravy theywanted (and they wanted a great deal),

and then pancakes, tossed before theirvery eyes, with a spoonful of jam in themiddle of each, or blanc-mange madein the shape of a cow, which tastedquite different from any other blanc-mange that ever was. Also, they had thefreedom of the corn-popper, andmight roast apples every evening tillbedtime. Doctor Brown shook his headoccasionally, and told Anne Peace shewould unfit those children for anythingelse in life than eating good things; butit was very likely that was jealousy, headded, for certainly his medicines hadnever given the children these rosycheeks and sparkling eyes.

And when bedtime came, and the two

little brown heads were nestled downin the pillows of the big four-poster inthe warm room, Anne Peace wouldhumbly give thanks that they had beenwell and happy through another day,and then creep off to the cold, littleroom which she had chosen this winter,"because it was more handy." Often,when awakened in the middle of thenight by the sharp, cracking frostnoises, which tell of intensest cold, shewould creep in to feel of the children,and make sure that they were as warmas two little dormice, which they alwayswere. I do not know how many timesshe took a blanket or comforter off herown bed to add to their store; but I doknow that she would not let Jenny

Miller go into her room to see. Shealmost rejoiced in the excessive cold,saying to herself with exultation,"Fifteen below! well, there! and I s'poseit's like summer in Florida, this minuteof time!" And then she fancied Davidsitting under an orange-tree, fanninghimself, and smiled, and went meeklyto work to break the ice in her water-butt.

Every week letters came from DavidMeans to his children, telling them ofthe beauty all around him and wishingthey were there. He said little of hishealth, but always assured them thatJaney and Willy were real smart, andsent his love to Anne Peace and his

remembrance to all friends at home.

The letters were short, and each timethey grew a little shorter, till by and byit was only a postal card, written in afaint and trembling hand, but sayingthat the weather was fine, and fatherwas so glad to get their little letter, andhe would write more next time, but wasvery busy just now. When she read oneof these, Anne Peace would go awayinto her little cold room for a while,and then would come back smiling andsay that now they must write a real goodletter to father, and tell him how wellthey were doing at school.

At last came a week when there was no

postal card; another week, and therecame a letter edged with black andwritten in Mrs. Means's hand. Thechildren were at school when it came,and Jenny Miller, coming in by chanceto bring a pot of head-cheese of hermother's making, found Miss Peacecrouching in the corner of the sofa,weeping quietly, with the letter lying onher lap.

"Why, Miss Peace," cried Jenny,frightened at the sight of tears in thosesteadfast eyes, "What is the matter Dotell me, dear! Why, you're real cold inhere. I do believe the fire has gone out.You've had bad news, Miss Peace, haveyou Do tell me, that's a dear soul, and

don't cry."

"Yes," said Anne Peace. "The fire is out,Jenny, and David is dead."

She held out the letter, sayingsomething about "privilege think rest;"but Jenny Miller was already on herknees, putting kindlings into the stoveat a reckless rate. Then, when the firewas crackling merrily, she ran to fetch ashawl and wrapped it round the poortrembling shoulders, and chafed thecold hands in her own warm, youngfingers. But soon Miss Peace grewuneasy; she was not used to being"done for," having only the habit ofdoing for others. She pointed eagerly to

the letter. "Read it, Jenny," she said,anxiously. "I I am all right, dear. It'scome rather sudden, that's all, andthose poor little children but read theletter." The words died away, and Jenny,sitting down beside her, took the paperand read.

It began "Friend Anne," and went onto say that the writer's poor husbanddied yesterday, and she was left, as shealways knew she should be, a widowwith four children. It did seem to her asif he might have been let die to home,instead of being carted all the waydown there and then have to send theremains back. She had to promise himshe would send them back, though it

did seem a pity with the beautiful"semetary" they had there, and full ofNorthern folks as it would hold andthe undertaker a perfect gentleman, ifshe ever saw one. But the widow hopedshe knew her duty, and she would notwish to be thought wanting in anything.

Now she supposed they would want toknow how David passed away, thoughshe had no "strenth" to write, nothaving had her clothes off for days or,you might say, weeks, nor slep' oneconsektive hour the last ten nights.Well, he had seemed to gain a littlewhen they first came, but it wasn't noreal gain, for he lost it all again andmore too. The pounds just fell off

from that man, it seemed as if youcould see them go. The last month hefairly pined away, and she thought rightto let the folks at home know that hewas called to depart, but he wouldn'thear to it. "He said, Delia, he said, ifyou want me to die easy, he said, don'tlet on to no one at home but what I'mdoing all right." So she set by and heldher peace, though it went against herconscience. Last Monday he couldn'tleave his bed, and she said, "David, shesaid, you never will leave it till you'recarried," and he said, p'raps 'twas so,but yet he wouldn't allow it, for fear ofscaring the children. So that night he satup in bed and his arms went out andhe said "Home!" just that word, two or

three times over, and dropped back andwas gone. There she was, a widow withfour small children, and what sheshould do she didn't know.

Away there in a strange land as youmight say, if it was all one country, it didseem as if them as sent them mighthave thought of that and let them stayat home among their own folks. Notbut what there was elegant folks there.Everybody hed been as kind as couldbe; one lady who was in "morning"herself had lent her a bonnet to wear tothe funeral (for she wasn't one to sendthe remains off without anything beingsaid over them); it was a real handsomebonnet, and she had taken a pattern of

it, to have one made for herself. Thelady was from New York way, and realstylish.

Mrs. Means intended to stay on a spell,as the money was not all gone, and herstrength needed setting up, after all shehad been through. Mr. Tombs, theundertaker, said he never saw any onebear afflicktion so; she told him shewas used to it. He was a perfectgentleman, and a widower himself, sohe could feel for her. Miss Peace mightbe thankful that she was never calledon to bear afflicktion, with no one butherself to look out for; not but what'twas lonesome for her, and Mrs. Meanssupposed she'd be glad enough to keep

Georgie and Joey on a spell longer forcompany. Tell them they are poororphans now, with no father to earntheir bread. The writer wished herhusband's remains to be buried in hisfather's lot, as she had no money to buyone. Miss Peace might see if any onefelt to put up a moniment for David;he hadn't an enemy in the world, andhe never begredged a dollar when hehad it to give, for anything there wasgoing. If he had thought a little moreabout her, and less about everybody'scat and dog, she might have somethingnow to put bread in her children'smouths, let alone her own. Not that shehad any appetite, a flea wouldn't fattenon what she ate. Lawyer Peters was his

mother's third cousin if she was living.He spent more on those girls of histhan would clothe the writer and herchildren for a year.

The remains went by the same boatwith this letter, so Miss Peace wouldknow when to expect them. Mrs. Meanslooked to her to see that David had adecent funeral; a handsome one shecouldn't expect, folks in Cyrus wereclose enough about all that didn't goon their own backs, though sheshouldn't wish it said.

So now there was no more, from MissPeace's unfortunate friend, "the WidowMeans."

After reading this precious epistle,Jenny Miller found herself, perhaps forthe first time in her life, with nothing tosay. She could only sit and press herfriend's hand, and thrill, as a girl will, atthe touch of a sorrow which she onlynow began dimly to guess. It was MissPeace who broke the silence, speakingin her usual quiet tone.

"Thank you, Jenny, dear! I'm sure it wasa privilege, having you come in justnow. David Means was kin to me, youknow, and I always set by him a greatdeal; and then the poor little children!"she faltered again for an instant, butsteadied her voice and went on: "You'd

better go home now, dear, for the fire isgoing beautiful, and I don't needanything. I I shall have to see to thingsfor the funeral, you know. And don'tforget to thank your mother for thecheese. It looks real good, and Georgiedoos like it the best of anything forbreakfast. I guess I'll get on my bonnet,and go to see Abel Mound, the sexton."

But here Jenny found her voice, andprotested. Miss Peace should not haveanything at all to do with all that.'Twasn't fitting she should, as thenearest kin poor Mr. Means had inCyrus. Her father would see to it all,Jenny knew he would, and DoctorBrown would help him. She would go

herself and speak to the doctor thisminute. Miss Peace would have to behere to tell the children when they camehome from school, poor little things!and that was all she should do about it.

Anne Peace hesitated; and then Jennyhad an inspiration, or, as she put it intelling Tudie Peaslee afterwards, "avoice spoke to her."

"Miss Peace," she said timidly, "I I don'tsuppose you would feel to pick thoseflowers you were going to send over toTupham for the Sunday-school festivalI know they kind o' lot on the flowersyou send, 'cause they're always so fresh,and you do them up so pretty. But if

you don't feel to do it, I can send themword, or ask some one else"

"The idea!" cried Anne Peace,brightening up. "I forgot the flowers,Jenny, I did so! I should be pleased topick them, and I'll do it this minute.There there isn't anything I should likeso well. And I do thank you, dear, andif you really think your father wouldn'tmind seeing I am sure it is a privilege tohave such neighbours, I always say.There couldn't anybody be moreblessed in neighbours than I havealways been."

In ten minutes Miss Peace was at workin her garden, cutting, trimming, tying

up posies, and finding balm for herinward wound in the touch of therose-leaves, and in the smell ofmignonette, David's favourite flower.No one in Cyrus had such mignonetteas Miss Peace, and people thought shehad some special receipt for making itgrow and blossom luxuriantly; but shealways said no, it was only because sheset by it. Folks could most always growthe things they set most store by, shethought.

So the Sunday-school festival atTupham Corner was a perfect blaze offlowers, and the minister in his speechmade allusion to generous friends inother parishes, who sent of their wealth

to swell our rejoicings, and of theirgarden produce to gladden our eyes;but while the eyes of Tupham werebeing gladdened, Anne Peace wasbrushing Joey's and Georgie's hair, andtying black ribbons under their littlechins, smiling at them through her tears,and bidding them be brave for dearfather's sake, who was gone to the besthome now, and would never be sick anymore, or tired, or or sad.

It was a quiet funeral: almost a cheerfulone, the neighbours said, as they sawthe little room filled with bright flowers(they all seemed to smell ofmignonette, there was so much of ithidden among the roses), and the

serene face of the chief mourner, whostood at the head of the coffin, with achild in either hand. It was an unusualthing, people felt. Generally, at Cyrusfunerals, the mourners stayed up-stairs,leaving the neighbours to gather roundthe coffin in the flower-scented roombelow; but it did not seem strange inAnne Peace, somehow, and, after thefirst glance, no one could fancy any oneelse standing there. The old minister,who had christened both David andAnne on the same day, said a fewgentle, cheering words, and the choirsang "Lead, kindly Light;" then theprocession went its quiet way to thechurchyard, and all was over.

Jenny Miller and the doctor followedMiss Peace home from the churchyard,but made no attempt to speak to her.She seemed unconscious of any onesave the children, to whom she wastalking in low, cheerful tones. Thedoctor caught the words "rest,""home," "happiness;" and as she passedinto the house he heard her saydistinctly: "Blessed privilege! Mychildren now, my own! my own!"

"So they are!" said Doctor Brown,taking off his glasses to clear them. "Sothey are, and so they will remain. I don'timagine Delia will ever come back, doyou, Jenny "

"No," said Jenny, "I don't. She'll marrythe undertaker before the year is out."

And she did.

THE END.

* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes

Original spelling and punctuation havebeen preserved except for the joiningof common contractions.

Page 8: Added closing quotes: (you

seemed all right when I went out.")

Page 9: Phoebe had oe ligature inoriginal book. (you've heard me tellhow my Aunt Phoebe 'Lizabeth)

Page 56: Removed extra quotation markbefore I: ("You are too good. I didn'texpect, I'm sure well, you are kind!")