d on the road near
the sanitarium, an' he never stopped till he was plum through college. An'
a woman up there sent my darter a book wunst, an' I took it right back to
her. 'My darter's got a book,' says I, 'an' she ain't a-needin' of no
duplicates. Keep it,' says I, 'fer somebody that ain't got no book."

"Do you reckon," asked the blacksmith, after a long silence, "that they're
goin' to live in the Jack-o'-Lantern?"

"I ain't a-sayin'," answered Mr. Blake, cautiously. "They're educated, an'
there's no tellin' what educated folks is goin' to do. This young lady,
now, that come up with him last night, she said it was 'a dear old place
an' she loved it a'ready.' Them's her very words!"

"Do tell!"

"That's c'rrect, an' as I said before, when you're dealin' with educated
folks, you're swimmin' in deep water with the shore clean out o' sight.
Education was what ailed him." By a careless nod Mr. Blake indicated the
Jack-o'-Lantern, which could be seen from the main thoroughfare of Judson
Centre.

"I've hearn," he went on, taking a fresh bite from his morning purchase of
"plug," "that he had one hull room mighty nigh plum full o' nothin' but
books, an' there was always more comin' by freight an' express an' through
the post-office. It's all on account o' them books that he's made the
front o' his house into what it is. My wife had a paper book wunst,
a-tellin' 'How to Transfer a Hopeless Exterior,' with pictures of houses
in it like they be here an' more arter they'd been transferred. You bet I
burnt it while she was gone to sewin' circle, an' there ain't no book come
into my house since."

Mr. Blake spoke with the virtuous air of one who has protected his home
from contamination. Indeed, as he had often said before, "you can't never
tell what folks'll do when books gets a holt of 'em."

"Do you reckon," asked the blacksmith, "that there'll be company?"

"Company," snickered Mr. Blake, "oh, my Lord, yes! A little thing like
death ain't never going to keep company away. Ain't you never hearn as how
misery loves company? The more miserable you are the more company you'll
have, an' vice versey, etcetery an' the same."

"Hush!" warned the blacksmith, in a harsh whisper. "He's a-comin'!"

"City feller," grumbled Mr. Blake, affecting not to see.

"Good-morning," said Harlan, pleasantly, though not without an air of
condescension. "Can you tell me where I can find the stage-driver?"

"That's me," grunted Mr. Blake. "Be