t--I'd rub a
little o' that hoss liniment on his stummick,"

The two old maids took the baby into their bedroom. It was an hour
later when Trove came back. Tunk sat alone by the kitchen fire.
There was yet a loud wail in the bedroom.

"What's the news?" said Tunk, who met him at the door.

"Drunk, that's all," said Trove. "I took this bottle, sling-shot,
and bar of iron away from him. The woman thought I had better
bring them with me and put them out of his way."

He laid them on the floor in a corner.

"I got him into bed," he continued, "and then hid the axe and came
away. I guess they're all right now. When I left he had begun to
snore."

"Wal,--we ain't all right," said Tunk, pointing to the room. "If
you can conquer that thing, you'll do well. Poor Miss Teeshy!" he
added, shaking his head.

"What's the matter with her?" Trove inquired.

"Kicked in the stummick 'til she dunno where she is," said Tunk,
gloomily.

He pulled off his boots.

"If she don't go lame t'morrer, I'll miss my guess," he added.
"She looks a good deal like Deacon Haskins after he had milked the
brindle cow."

He leaned back, one foot upon the stove-hearth. Shrill cries rang
in the old house.

"'Druther 'twould hev been a painter," said Tunk, sighing.

"Why so?"

"More used to 'em," said Tunk, sadly.

They listened a while longer without speaking.

"Ye can't drive it, ner coax it, ner scare it away, ner do nuthin'
to it," said Tunk, presently.

He rose and picked up the things Trove had brought with him. "I'll
take these to the barn," said he; "they'd have a fit--if they was
t' see 'em. What be they?"

"I do not know what they are," said Trove.

"Wal!" said Tunk. "They're queer folks--them Frenchmen. This
looks like an iron bar broke in two in the middle."

He got his lantern, picked up the bottle, the sling-shot, and the
iron, and went away to the barn.

Trove went to the bedroom door and rapped, and was admitted. He
went to work with the baby, and soon, to his joy, it lay asleep on
the bed. Then he left the room on tiptoe, and a bit weary.

"A very full day!" he said to himself.

"Teacher, counsellor, martyr, constable, nurse--I wonder what next!"

And as he went to his room, he heard Miss S'mantha say to her
sister, "I'm thankful it's not a boy, anyway."

XVIII

A Day of Difficulties

All were in their seats and the teacher had called a class. Carlt
Homer came in.

"You're ten minu