ways had heart trouble. I dunno; I always thought Deborah
Thayer was a pretty good woman, but she was pretty set. I guess
Barney takes after her. He was goin' with Charlotte Barnard years
ago--I guess 'twas as much as nine or ten years ago, now--an' they
were goin' to be married. She was all ready--weddin'-dress an' bonnet
an' everything--an' this house was 'most done an' ready for them to
move into; but one Sunday night Barney he went up to see Charlotte,
an' he got into a dispute with her father about the 'lection, an' the
old man he ordered Barney out of the house, an' Barney he went out,
an' he never went in again--couldn't nobody make him. His mother she
talked; it 'most killed her; an' I guess Charlotte said all she
could, but he wouldn't stir a peg.

"He went right to livin' in his new house, an' he lives there now; he
ain't married, an' Charlotte ain't. She's had chances, too. Squire
Payne's son, he wanted her bad."

The visiting cousin's mild, interrogative face peered out around the
black panel of the covered wagon at Barney's poor house; her
spectacles glittered at it in the sun. "I want to know!" said she,
with the expression of strained, entertained amiability which she
wore through her visit.

When they passed the Barnard house the Pembroke woman partly drew
rein again; the old horse meandered in a zigzag curve, with his head
lopping. "That's where Charlotte Barnard lives," she said. Suddenly
she lowered her voice. "There she is now, out in the yard," she
whispered.

Again the visiting cousin peered out. "She's good-lookin', ain't
she?" she remarked, cautiously viewing Charlotte's straight figure
and fair face as she came towards them out of the yard.

"She ain't so good-lookin' as she used to be," rejoined the other
woman. "I guess she's goin' down to her aunt Sylvy's--Sylvy Crane as
was. She married Richard Alger a while ago, after she'd been goin'
with him over twenty year. He's fixed up the old Crane place. It got
dreadful run down, an' Sylvy she actually set out for the poor-house,
an' Richard he stopped Jonathan Leavitt, he was carryin' of her over
there, an' he brought her home, an' married her right off. That
brought him to the point. Sylvy lives on the old road; we can drive
round that way when we go home, an' I'll show you the place."

When they presently drove down the green length of the old road, the
visiting cousin spied interestedly at Sylvia's house and Sylvia's own
delicate profile