e in his good books."

"The good books are not kept by me, Squire," said the parson.

Reuben, who had been loitering about Rose, and who, to do him justice,
had seen Phil's gallant attention to Adele without one spark of
jealousy, was specially interested in this interruption of the
festivities. In his present state of mind, he was most eager to know how
far the evening's hilarity would be imputed as a sin to the new convert,
and how far religious severities (if she met any) would control the
ardor of Adele. The Doctor's face softened, even while he talked with
the charming errant,--Reuben observed that; but with Aunt Eliza the case
was different. Never had he seen such a threatening darkness in her
face.

"We have interrupted a ball, I fear," she said to the hostess, in a tone
which was as virulent as a masculine oath.

"Oh! no! no!" said Mrs. Elderkin. "Indeed, now, you must not scold Adele
too much; 't was only a bit of the Squire's foolery."

"Oh, certainly not; she is quite her own mistress. I should be very
sorry to consider myself responsible for all her tastes."

Reuben, hearing this, felt his heart leap toward Adele in a way which
the spinster's praises had never provoked.

Dame Tourtelot here says, in her most aggravating manner,--

"I think she dances beautiful, Miss Johns. She dooz yer credit, upon my
word she dooz."

And thereupon there followed a somewhat lively altercation between those
two sedate ladies,--in the course of which a good deal of stinging
mockery was covered with unctuous compliment. But the spinster did not
lose sight of her chief aim, to wit, the refusal of all responsibility
as attaching to the conduct of Adele, and a most decided intimation that
the rumors which associated her name with Reuben were unfounded, and
were likely to prove altogether false.

This last hint was a revelation to the gossipping Dame; there had been
trouble, then, at the parsonage; things were clearly not upon their old
footing. Was it Adele? Was it Reuben? Yet never had either shown greater
cheer than on this very night. But the Dame none the less eagerly had
communicated her story, before the evening closed, to Mrs.
Elderkin,--who received it doubtingly,--to Rose, who heard it with
wonder and a pretty confusion,--and to the old Squire, who said only,
"Pooh! pooh! it's a lover's quarrel; we shall be all straight
to-morrow."

Adele, by her own choice, was convoyed home, when the evening was over,
by t