ows:

"LINES ON THE RETURN OF A YOUTHFUL AND VALUED FRIEND.

"Our beloved William Jaquith
Has resolved henceforth to break with
Devious ways;
And returning to his mother
Vows he will have ne'er another
All his days.

"Husk of swine did not him nourish;
Plant of Virtue could not flourish
Far from home;
So his heart with longing burned,
And his feet with speed returned
To its dome.

"Welcome, William, to our village!
Peaceful dwell, devoid of pillage,
Cherished son!
On her sightless steps attendant,
Wear a crown of light resplendent,
Duty done!"

There was a soft murmur of appreciation from Miss Vesta and Mrs. Bliss,
followed by silence. Mr. Homer glanced anxiously at Miss Phoebe.

"I should be glad of your opinion as to the third line, Cousin
Phoebe," he said. "I had it 'Satan's ways,' in my first draught, but
the expression appeared strong, especially for this choice circle, so I
substituted 'devious' as being more gentle, more mild, more--a"--he
waved his hands--"more devoid of elements likely to produce discord in
the mind."

"Quite so, Cousin Homer!" replied Miss Phoebe, with a stately bend of
her head. "I congratulate you upon the alteration. Satan has no place in
an Elmerton parlor, especially when honored by the presence of its
pastor."

CHAPTER IX.

A GARDEN PARTY

It was a golden morning in mid-October; one of those mornings when
Summer seems to turn in her footsteps, and come back to search for
something she had left behind. Wherever one looked was gold: gold of
maple and elm leaves, gold of late-lingering flowers, gold of
close-shorn fields. Over and in and through it all, airy gold of
quivering, dancing sunbeams.

No spot in all Elmerton was brighter than Mrs. Tree's garden, which took
the morning sun full in the face. Here were plenty of flowers still,
marigolds, coreopsis, and chrysanthemums, all drinking in the sun-gold
and giving it out again, till the whole place quivered with light and
warmth.

[Illustration: "'CAREFUL WITH THAT BRIDE BLUSH, WILLY.'"]

Mrs. Tree, clad in an antique fur-trimmed pelisse, with an amazing
garden hat surmounting her cap, sat in a hooded wicker chair on the
porch talking to William Jaquith, who was tying up roses and covering
them with straw.

"Yes; such things mostly go crisscross," she was saying. "Careful wit