uy ready printed in Boston.

Mrs. Durgin studied with modest deprecation the effect of the fact
upon Westover, and seemed satisfied with it. "Well, of course, it's
interestin' to Jackson's old friends in the country, here. They know
he'd look at things, over there, pretty much as they would. Well, I had
to lend the letters round so much, anyway, it was a kind of a relief to
have 'em in the paper, where everybody could see 'em, and be done with
it. Mr. Whit'ell here, he fixes 'em up so's to leave out the family
part, and I guess they're pretty well thought of."

Westover said he had no doubt they were, and he should want to see all
the letters they could show him, in print and out of print.

"If Jackson only had Jeff's health and opportunities--" the mother
began, with a suppressed passion in her regret.

Frank Whitwell pushed back his chair. "I guess I'll ask to be excused,"
he said to the head of table.

"There! I a'n't goin' to say any more about that, if that's what you're
afraid of, Frank," said Mrs. Durgin. "Well, I presume I do talk a good
deal about Jackson when I get goin', and I presume it's natural Cynthy
shouldn't want I should talk about Jeff before folks. Frank, a'n't you
goin' to wait for that plate of hot biscuit?--if she ever gits it here!"

"I guess I don't care for anything more," said Frank, and he got himself
out of the room more inarticulately than he need, Westover thought.

His, father followed his retreat with an eye of humorous intelligence.
"I guess Frank don't want to keep the young ladies waitin' a great
while. There's a church sociable over 't the Huddle," he explained to
Westover.

"Oh, that's it, is it?" Mrs. Durgin put in. "Why didn't he say so."

"Well, the young folks don't any of 'em seem to want to talk about
such things nowadays, and I don't know as they ever did." Whitwell took
Westover into his confidence with a wink.

The biscuit that Cynthia brought in were burned a little on top, and
Mrs. Durgin recognized the fact with the question, "Did you get to
studyin', out there? Take one, do, Mr. Westover! You ha'n't made half a
meal! If I didn't keep round after her, I don't know what would become
of us all. The young ladies down at Boston, any of 'em, try to keep up
with the fellows in college?"

"I suppose they do in the Harvard Annex," said Westover, simply, in
spite of the glance with which Mrs. Durgin tried to convey a
covert meaning. He understood it afterward, but for