summer nothing could
be more charming.

From his seat, beside Ajax, Henry Morton regarded attentively the
prominent features of the landscape. His survey was interrupted by a
question from the driver.

"Are you calc'latin' to make a long stay in our village?" inquired Ajax,
with Yankee freedom.

"I am not quite certain. It is possible that I may."

"There isn't much goin' on in winter."

"No, I suppose not."

After a few minutes' pause, he inquired, "Can you tell me if there is a
gentleman living in the village named Haynes?"

"I expect you mean Squire Haynes," said Ajax.

"Very probably he goes by that name. He was formerly a lawyer."

"Yes, that's the man. Do you know him?"

"I have heard of him," said the young man, non-committally.

"Then you ain't going to stop there?"

An expression of repugnance swept over the young man's face, as he
hastily answered in the negative.

By this time they had come to a turn in the road. This brought them in
view of Chloe's cottage. Little Pomp was on all fours, hunting for nuts
among the fallen leaves under the shagbark-tree.

Under the influence of some freakish impulse, Pomp suddenly jumped to
his feet and, whirling his arms aloft, uttered a wild whoop. Startled
by the unexpected apparition, the horses gave a sudden start, and nearly
succeeded in overturning the wagon.

"Massy on us!" exclaimed an old lady on the back seat, suddenly flinging
her arms round young Morton's neck, in the height of her consternation.

"All right, marm," said Ajax reassuringly, after a brief but successful
conflict with the horses. "We sha'n't go over this time. I should like
to give that little black imp a good shaking."

"Oh, I've lost my ban'box, with my best bunnit," hastily exclaimed the
old lady. "Le' me get out and find it. It was a present from my darter,
Cynthy Ann, and I wouldn't lose it for a kingdom."

In truth, when prompted by her apprehension to cling to the young man in
front for protection, Mrs. Payson had inadvertently dropped the bandbox
out of the window, where it met with an unhappy disaster. The horse,
quite unconscious of the damage he was doing, had backed the wagon in
such a manner that one of the wheels passed directly over it.

When Ajax picked up the mutilated casket, which, with the jewel it
contained, had suffered such irreparable injury, and restored it to its
owner, great was the lamentation. Rachel weeping for her children could
hardly have exhibi