as I can match up them
stripes and figures. I wisht you'd go an' see her, Abby. She'll tell
you all about it. An' her scheme about collecting all the old Bolton
furniture is perfectly ridiculous. 'Twouldn't be worth shucks after
kickin' 'round folk's houses here in Brookville for the last fifteen
years or so."

"But you can't never find her at home, Henry," said Mrs. Daggett. "I
been to see her lots of times; but Mis' Solomon Black says she don't
stay in the house hardly long enough to eat her victuals."

"Why don't you take the buggy, Abby, and drive out to the old place?"
suggested Mr. Daggett. "Likely you'll find her there. She appears to
take an interest in every nail that's drove. I can spare the horse
this afternoon just as well as not."

"'Twould be pleasant," purred Mrs. Daggett. "But, I suppose, by
rights, I ought to take Lois along."

"Nope," disagreed her husband, shaking his head. "Don't you take
Lois; she wouldn't talk confiding to Lois, the way she would to you.
You've got a way with you, Abby. I'll bet you could coax a bird off a
bush as easy as pie, if you was a mind to."

Mrs. Daggett's big body shook with soft laughter. She beamed rosily
on her husband.

"How you do go on, Henry!" she protested. "But I ain't going to coax
Lydia Orr off no bush she's set her heart on. She's got the sweetest
face, papa; an' I know, without anybody telling me, whatever she does
or wants to do is _all_ right."

Mr. Daggett had by now invested his portly person in a clean linen
coat, bearing on its front the shining mark of Mrs. Daggett's careful
iron.

"Same here, Abby," he said kindly: "whatever you do, Abby, suits _me_
all right."

The worthy couple parted for the morning: Mr. Daggett for the scene
of his activities in the post office and store; Mrs. Daggett to set
her house to rights and prepare for the noon meal, when her Henry
liked to "eat hearty of good, nourishing victuals," after his light
repast of the morning.

"Guess I'll wear my striped muslin," said Mrs. Daggett to herself
happily. "Ain't it lucky it's all clean an' fresh? 'Twill be so cool
to wear out buggy-ridin'."

Mrs. Daggett was always finding occasion for thus reminding herself
of her astonishing good fortune. She had formed the habit of talking
aloud to herself as she worked about the house and garden.

"'Tain't near as lonesome, when you can hear the sound of a voice--if
it is only your own," she apologized, when rebuked for the pra