d by a fresh shave and with his shoes
polished into almost immodest prominence. The children, in spite of
their aggrieved protests, had been sent to bed with the chickens. Mary
had been despatched to young Mrs. Thompson's on an errand, and the two
had the house to themselves. Thomas waited for Persis to explain her
summons. As she rendered him no assistance, he took the responsibility
of steering the conversation.

"I looks pretty fine round here, Persis. Shouldn't hardly know the
place."

"Well, there have been lots of changes, Thomas, Joel gone and all.
Five children in a house change things without anybody to help 'em."

"They're nice-looking children, too. That oldest boy, Algie, takes my
eye."

"He'll be better-looking when that cut on his lip heals up. He got
hurt in a fight the other day, the second he's had in three months. I
wanted to ask you what you thought I'd ought to do when he gets to
fighting."

Thomas' heart went down with a thud. So this was why she had sent for
him, to consult him regarding the training of the boys. He had not
known how her summons had inflated his hopes until this sickening
collapse. It was only by an effort that he rallied his thoughts
sufficiently to answer.

"Well, I wouldn't worry about that if I was you, Persis. Seems like
all young things was taken the same way. Puppies are always
squabbling, but 'tisn't that there's any hard feeling. They just want
to try their teeth. Seems to me I'd be pretty worried over a boy who
never wanted to fight."

Persis listened appreciatively. "Thank you, Thomas. It's a good thing
for a woman who's bringing up a pair of boys to get a man's point of
view now and then. I'm afraid I've kind of neglected those children
this spring. I've been so taken up with Diantha Sinclair's wedding."

"She'll be a mighty pretty bride," observed Thomas, striving manfully
to do his part in the conversational see-saw. "She looks a lot like
her mother when--" He broke off, overwhelmed by the realization that
he had introduced the one topic which should never have been mentioned
between Persis and himself. Choking with mortification, turning deeply
crimson as all the blood in his body seemed rushing toward his brain,
he sat motionless, an unhappy martyr consumed in the fires of his own
sensitiveness.

But something had given Persis a clew. She leaned forward, quite
forgetful of her recent shrinking.

"Thomas, you remember what you tol