, apparently, decided to make them
exceptions to all rules.

Kate was fond of going to Boston to visit a schoolmate, and the Squire,
who looked with small favor on these visits, was disposed to attribute
them to Dave's lack of ardor.

"Confound it, Looizy," he would say to his wife, "if Dave made it more
lively for Kate she would not be fer flying off to Boston every time she
got a chance."

And Mrs. Bartlett had no answer. Having a woman's doubtful gift of
intuition, she was afraid that the wedding would never take place, and
also having a woman's tact she never annoyed her husband by saying so.

Kate, who had been in Boston for two months, was coming home about the
middle of July, and a little flutter of preparation went all over the
farm.

Dave had said at breakfast that he regretted not being able to go to
Wakefield to meet Kate, but that he would be busy in the north field all
day. Hi Holler, the Bartlett chore boy, had been commissioned to go in
his stead, and Hi's toilet, in consequence, had occupied most of the
morning.

Mrs. Bartlett was churning in the shadow of the wide porch, the Squire
was mending a horse collar with wax thread, and fussing about the heat
and the slowness of Hi Holler, who was always punctually fifteen minutes
late for everything.

"Confound it, Looizy, what's keeping that boy; the train'll get in before
he's started. Here you, Hi, what's keeping you?"

The delinquent stood in the doorway, his broad face rippling with smiles;
he had spent time on his toilet, but he felt that the result justified it.

His high collar had already begun to succumb to the day, and the labor
involved in greasing his boots, which were much in evidence, owing to the
brevity of the white duck trousers that needed but one or two more
washings, with the accompanying process of shrinking, to convert them
into knickerbockers. Bear's grease had turned his ordinary curling brown
hair into a damp, shining mass that dripped in tiny rills, from time to
time, down on his coat collar, but Hi was happy. Beau Brummel, at the
height of his sartorial fame, never achieved a more self-satisfying
toilet.

The Squire adjusted his spectacles. "What are you dressing up like that
on a week day for, Hi? Off with you now; and if you ain't in time for
them cars you'll catch 'Hail Columbia' when you get back."

"Looizy," said the Squire, as soon as Hi was out of hearing, "why didn't
Dave go after Katie? Yes, I know abo