ket, and
every foot of roadside and field within sight was swaying with
long-stemmed white and gold daisies. The June grass, the friendly,
humble, companionable grass, that no one ever praises as they do the
flowers, was a rich emerald green, a velvet carpet fit for the feet of
the angels themselves. And the elms and maples! Was there ever such a
year for richness of foliage? And the sky, was it ever so blue or so
clear, so far away, or so completely like heaven, as you looked at its
reflection in the glassy surface of the river?

"Yes, it's a pretty good day," allowed Uncle Bart judicially as he took
a squint at his T-square. "I don' know's I should want to start out an'
try to beat it! The Lord can make a good many kinds o' weather in the
course of a year, but when He puts his mind on to it, an' kind o' gives
Himself a free hand, He can turn out a June morning that must make the
Devil sick to his stomach with envy! All the same, Waity, my cow ain't
behavin' herself any better'n usual. She's been rampagin' since sun-up.
I've seen mother chasin' her out o' Mis' Day's garden-patch twice
a'ready!--It seems real good an' homey to see you settin' there sewin'
while I'm workin' at the bench. Cephas is down to the store, so I s'pose
your father's off somewheres?"

Perhaps the June grass was a little greener, the buttercups yellower,
the foliage more lacey, the sky bluer, because Deacon Baxter had
taken his luncheon in a pail under the wagon seat, and departed on
an unwilling journey to Moderation, his object being to press the
collection of some accounts too long overdue. There was something
tragic in the fact, Waitstill thought, that whenever her father left
the village for a whole day, life at once grew brighter, easier, more
hopeful. One could breathe freely, speak one's heart out, believe in the
future, when father was away.

The girls had harbored many delightful plans at early breakfast. As it
was Saturday, Patty could catch little Rod Boynton, if he came to the
bridge on errands as usual; and if Ivory could spare him for an hour
at noon they would take their luncheon and eat it together on the
river-bank as Patty had promised him. At the last moment, however,
Deacon Baxter had turned around in the wagon and said: "Patience, you go
down to the store and have a regular house-cleanin' in the stock-room.
Git Cephas to lift what you can't lift yourself, move everything in the
place, sweep and dust it, scrub the floor, wa