y laughed together.

The little boy wondered if this meant that Milo Barrus had come to the
Feet, or been born again, or something. Or if it meant that his father
also spelled God with a little g. He did not think of it, however, until
it was too late to ask.

The flawless father went away at the end of the week, "over the County
Fair circuit, selling Chief White Cloud's Great Indian Remedy," the little
boy heard him tell Clytie. Also he heard his grandfather say to Clytie,
"Thank God, not for another year!"

The little boy liked Nancy better than ever after that, because she had
liked his father so much, saying he was exactly like a prince, giving
pennies and nickels to everybody and being so handsome and big and grand.
She wished her own Uncle Doctor could be as beautiful and great; and the
little boy was generous enough to wish that his own plain grandfather
might be _almost_ as fine.

CHAPTER VII

THE SUPERLATIVE COUSIN BILL J.

A splendid new interest had now come into the household in the person of
one whom Clytemnestra had so often named as Cousin Bill J. Grandfather
Delcher having been ordered south for the winter by Dr. Crealock, Cousin
Bill J., upon Clytie's recommendation, was imported from up Fredonia way
to look after the cow and be a man about the place. Clytie assured
Grandfather Delcher that Cousin Bill J. had "never uttered an oath, though
he's been around horses all his life!" This made him at once an object of
interest to the little boy, though doubtless he failed to appraise the
restraint at anything like its true value. It had sufficed Grandfather
Delcher, however, and Cousin Bill J., securing leave of absence from the
livery-stable in Fredonia, arrived the day the old man left, making a
double excitement for the household.

He proved to be a fascinating person; handsome, affable, a ready talker
upon all matters of interest--though sarcastic, withal--and fond of boys.
True, he had not long hair like the little boy's father. Indeed, he had
not much hair at all, except a sort of curtain of black curls extending
from ear to ear at the back of his bare, pink head. But the little boy had
to admit that Cousin Bill J.'s moustache was even grander than his
father's. It fell in two graceful festoons far below his chin, with a
little eyelet curled into each tip, and, like the ringlets, it showed the
blue-black lustre of the crow's wing. In the full sunlight, at times, it
became almost a royal