otte, in an undertone. But her mother
began talking in a piteous wailing fashion.

"You hadn't ought to talk so about Cephas," she moaned. "He's my
husband. I guess you wouldn't like it if anybody talked so about your
husband. Cephas ain't any worse than anybody else. It's jest his way.
He wa'n't any more to blame than Barney; they both got to talkin'. I
know Cephas is terrible upset about it this mornin'; he 'ain't really
said so in so many words, but I know by the way he acts. He said this
mornin' that he didn't know but we were eatin' the wrong kind of
food. Lately he's had an idea that mebbe we'd ought to eat more meat;
he's thought it was more strengthenin', an' we'd ought to eat things
as near like what we wanted to strengthen as could be. I've made a
good deal of bone soup. But now he says he thinks mebbe he's been
mistaken, an' animal food kind of quickens the animal nature in us,
an' that we'd better eat green things an' garden sass."

"I guess garden sass will strengthen the other kind of sass that
Cephas Barnard has got in him full as much as bone soup has,"
interrupted Hannah Berry, with a sarcastic sniff.

"I dunno but he's right," said Mrs. Barnard. "Cephas thinks a good
deal an' looks into things. I kind of wish he'd waited till the
garden had got started, though, for there ain't much we can eat now
but potatoes an' turnips an' dandelion greens."

"If you want to live on potatoes an' turnips an' dandelion greens,
you can," cried Hannah Berry; "What I want to know is if you're goin'
to settle down an' say nothin', an' have Charlotte lose the best
chance she'll ever have in her life, if she lives to be a hundred--"

Charlotte spoke up suddenly; her blue eyes gleamed with steely light.
She held her head high as she faced her aunt.

"I don't want any more talk about it, Aunt Hannah," said she.

"Hey?"

"I don't want any more talk about it."

"Well, I guess you'll have more talk about it; girls don't get jilted
without there is talk generally. I guess you'll have to make up your
mind to it, for all you put on such airs with your own aunt, who left
her washin' an' come over here to take your part. I guess when you
stand out in the road half an hour an' call a young man to come back,
an' he don't come, that folks are goin' to talk some. Who's that
comin' now?"

"It's Cephas," whispered Mrs. Barnard, with a scared glance at
Charlotte.

Cephas Barnard entered abruptly, and stood for a second looking