e even thought that it would be a good match. Still, he
was curiously disturbed, not by the reflection that he was laden with
sheaves of leather--he would have been more ashamed had he been seen
idling on a work-day--but because he feared he looked so untidy with
the dust of the road on his shoes. She might have noticed his
clothes, although she had galloped by so fast.

The first thing Jerome did, when he reached home, was to brush and
blacken his shoes, though there was no chance of Lucina's seeing
them. He felt as if he ought not to think of her when he had on dusty
shoes.

The greater part of the next day Jerome passed, as usual, soling
shoes in Ozias Lamb's shop. When he came home to supper, he noticed
something unusual about his mother and sister. They had the
appearance of being strung tightly with repressed excitement, like
some delicate musical instruments. To look at or to speak to them was
to produce in them sensitive vibrations which seemed out of
proportion to the cause.

Jerome asked no questions. These disturbances in the feminine current
always produced a corresponding stiffness of calm in his masculine
one, as if by an instinct to maintain the equilibrium of dangerous
forces for the safety of the household.

Elmira and her mother kept looking at each other and at him, pulses
starting up in their delicate cheeks, flushes coming and going,
motioning each other with furtive gestures to speak, then
countermanding the order with sharp negatory shakes of the head.

At last Mrs. Edwards called back Jerome as he was going to his
chamber, books under arm and lighted candle in hand.

"Look here," said she; "I want to show you something."

Jerome turned. Elmira was extending towards him a nicely folded
letter, with a little green seal on it.

"What is it?" asked Jerome.

"Read it," said his mother. Jerome took it, unfolded it, and read,
Elmira and his mother watching him. Elmira was quite pale. Mrs.
Edwards's mouth was set as if against anticipated opposition, her
nervously gleaming eyes were fierce with ready argument. Jerome knit
his brows over the letter, then he folded it nicely and gave it back
to Elmira.

"You see what it is?" said his mother.

"Yes, I see," replied Jerome, hesitatingly. He looked confused before
her, for one of the few times of his life.

"An invitation for you an' Elmira to Squire Merritt's--to a party;
it's Lucina's birthday," said his mother, and she fairly smacked her
l