sperity of the unjust man had corrupted
the imagination and confounded the conscience of this simple witness,
and he asked, in the hope of giving his praises pause: "What has he done
about the old family burying-ground in the orchard?"

"Well, there!" said Whitwell. "That got me more than any other one
thing: I naturally expected that Jeff 'd had 'em moved, for you know and
I know, Mr. Westover, that a place like that couldn't be very pop'la'
with summer folks; they don't want to have anything to kind of make 'em
serious, as you may say. But that devil got his architect to treat
the place, as he calls it, and he put a high stone wall around it, and
planted it to bushes and evergreens so 't looks like a piece of old
garden, down there in the corner of the orchard, and if you didn't
hunt for it you wouldn't know it was there. Jeff said 't when folks
did happen to find it out, he believed they liked it; they think it's
picturesque and ancient. Why, some on 'em wanted him to put up a little
chapel alongside and have services there; and Jeff said he didn't know
but he'd do it yet. He's got dark-colored stones up for Mis' Durgin and
Jackson, so 't they look as old as any of 'em. I tell you, he knows how
to do things."

"It seems so," said Westover, with a bitterness apparently lost upon the
optimistic philosopher.

"Yes, sir. I guess it's all worked out for the best. So long's he didn't
marry Cynthy, I don't care who he married, and--I guess he's made out
fust-rate, and he treats his wife well, and his mother-in-law, too. You
wouldn't hardly know they was in the house, they're so kind of quiet;
and if a guest wants to see Jeff, he's got to send and ask for him;
clerk does everything, but I guess Jeff keeps an eye out and knows
what's goin' on. He's got an elegant soot of appartments, and he lives
as private as if he was in his own house, him and his wife. But when
there's anything goin' on that needs a head, they're both right on deck.

"He don't let his wife worry about things a great deal; he's got a
fust-rate of a housekeeper, but I guess old Mis' Vostrand keeps the
housekeeper, as you may say. I hear some of the boa'ders talkin' up
there, and one of 'em said 't the great thing about Lion's Head was 't
you could feel everywheres in it that it was a lady's house. I guess
Jeff has a pootty good time, and a time 't suits him. He shows up on the
coachin' parties, and he's got himself a reg'lar English coachman's rig,
with