rm
glimmering whiteness, appeared in the barnyard.

Mrs. Sproul ran over the number with a rapid maternal calculation.

"Where's the baby, Sheridan?"

"Grammuzgotim."

Lysander climbed out of the wagon, and came around to his wife's side.

"Shan't I h'ist you down, Minervy?"

She gave him her hand, and stood beside him for an instant,
meditatively, after he had lifted her to the ground.

"I guess I won't say nothin' to mother till you come in, Sandy. Be as
spry as you can with the chores. Mebbe M'lissy'll milk the cow fer you."

She turned, and went up the walk toward the house, her mannish attire
and the glimmering white heads that encircled her faintly suggestive of
Jupiter and his attendant moons.

The sea-breeze had died away, and the wind was blowing in cooler gusts
from the mountain; breezes laden with the aromatic sweetness of the
bay-tree and the heavy scent of the shade-loving bracken wandered from
far up the canon into the cabin and out again, only to find themselves
profaned and sordid with the smell of frying bacon.

A high, energetic voice was making itself heard even above the sizzle of
the meat and the voice of a crying baby.

"What under the sun makes ye set up that yell every night jest at
supper-time? Ye ain't a-lackin' anything, as I kin see, exceptin' a
spankin', and I'm too busy to give ye that. Hark! There comes your
mammy, now. Straighten up yer face and show 'er what a good boy you've
been."

Thus adjured, the baby brought his vocalizing to that abrupt termination
indicative of feeling not so deep-seated as to be entirely beyond
control, and scrambled toward the door on all fours, breaking in upon
the approaching planetary system, a somewhat dimmed and bedraggled
comet. Mrs. Sproul picked him up, and looked around the room
questioningly.

"What's M'lissy doin', mother?"

"Dawdlin'," answered the old woman, with a curtness that was eloquent,
lifting the frying-pan from the stove, and shaking it into a more
aggravated sputter.

"Is she upstairs?"

"I s'pose so. She gener'ly is, when there's anything doin' down."

Mrs. Sproul put her hand over the baby's mouth and called upward,
"M'lissy!"

There was a sound of slow moving above, plainly audible through the
unplastered ceiling, leisurely sliding steps on the stairs, and Melissa
appeared in the doorway. She was still elevated above them by two or
three steps, and leaned against the casement, looking down into the
smoke and di