how I valued his confidence in me,
also to mention the war drama. Just then I raised my eyes and that
wonderful notebook had pushed a corner of itself out of the desk from
under the manuscript. I couldn't use my mind advising between a modern
epic and a war drama while it was plowed up ready for peonies, so I
decided to wait and ask Sam's advice about advising Peter, and I read
the rest of the peony pages in comfort. Right then, too, I made up my
mind that I was going to get ground bone to plant at the roots of all
the peonies if I had to use my own skeleton to do it and would only see
them bloom with astral eyes.

I was still reading when the supper-bell rang, and was only interested
in reminiscences of Grandmother Nelson during the meal.

"No, ma'am, Miss Caroline, you got it wrong. Ole Mis' didn't divide
clover pinks 'cepting every third year 'stid of second. _Hers_ bloomed,
they did," Eph interrupted mother to say, indulging in perhaps his first
speech while waiting on the table during the long and honorable life as
a butler which that grandmother had started at his sixth year. He then
retired in the blackest consternation, and his yellow granddaughter, the
house-girl, brought in the wine-jelly.

One thing is certain--I must contrive some way to get Sam back and forth
to me from The Briers in less time than it takes him to walk five miles.
He has got just one old roan plow mare and he won't ride her after he
has worked her all day, and I am afraid it won't do for me to go after
him with Redwheels every time I want him. I can go about two-thirds of
the time, but he must be allowed some liberty about expressing his
desire for my company. Of course a tactful woman can go nine-tenths of
the way in all things to meet a man she likes, and he'll think she
hasn't even started from home; but she ought to be honorable enough not
to do it at that rate. I believe in liberty for men as well as women.

Still, I can't express the strain it was on me to wait until after eight
o'clock for Sam with Grandmother Nelson's farm-book on my knee, and I
don't want to do it ever again, especially if the Byrd or Mammy or the
cows or any of the other live stock might be sick. I felt that it must
be midnight before I got Sam seated by me on the deep old mahogany sofa
in front of one nice April blaze in behind the brass fender, and under
another from Tolly's power-house. He was pretty tired, as he had been up
since daylight, but the cows wer