" joyfully repeated, died away at
last, more plaintively, "We're going home to-morrow."

"Wall, I'm goin' home to-night," said Emily, and, as I looked up at her,
I caught the same mischievous gleam in her unsoftened eyes. "So strike up
Something lively now, and I'll waltz down the lane to it. 'Are your
windows open towards Jerusalem?'--Lord, can't you think o' something
warmer than that for this weather?"

But the singers were going on gloriously:

"Are your windows open towards Jerusalem?
Though as captives here a little while we stay
For the coming of the King in His glory,
Are you watching, day by day?"

Emily tightened the shawl around her neck with a quick motion. In going
out, she took an indirect course through the room, purposely to pass by
where I was sitting.

"Are your windows open towards Jerusalem?" said she, stooping and
whispering in my ear: "Dave Rollin's out there hangin' onto the fence one
side the bushes, and Lute Cradlebow the other, and they don't see each
other no more than two bats."

"Are your windows open towards Jerusalem" was a favorite with the
Wallencampers. On this occasion they repeated it several times. Captain
Sartell and Bachelor Lot, who had been engaging in a game of checkers in
the little kitchen, left the board as the well-loved strains greeted
their ears, and came in to join the group.

Grandpa had been consigned to the kitchen stove, with a corn-popper. I do
not think that he regretted being removed, somewhat from the more
inspiring scenes which animated the Ark. I was amused to follow, with my
ear, the old gentleman's progress in the successive stages of his
corn-shelling and corn-popping operations with certain contingent
misfortunes, as when he went into the pantry to look for a pan, and
brought down a large quantity of tin-ware clanging about his ears, and
rolling in all directions over the floor, while I immediately inferred
from the tones of his voice that he was enjoying a little unembarrassed
colloquy with the powers of darkness. Once, in his shuffling
peregrinations, he tipped over the little bench which sustained the
water-pail. A deep sigh of horror and despair escaped his lips, and was
followed by a "What the Devil!" borne in upon the song-laden air with
unmistakable force and distinctness.

"For Heaven's sake, ma," said Madeline, looking up sharply; "what can pa
be a' doin??"

"Oh," calmly said Grandma Keeler, "I guess he's only settlin