," said Mr. Butters, with a chuckle.
"Wal, they warn't. They was jest as young as young folks, and oftentimes
younger. Miss Marshy warn't no more than a slip of a girl when she
merried. Come along young Cap'n Tree, jest got his first ship, and the
world in his pants pocket, and said 'Snip!' and she warn't backward with
her 'Snap!' I tell ye. Gorry! they were a handsome pair. See 'em come
along the street, you knowed how 'twas meant man and woman should look.
For all she was small, Mis' Tree would ha' spread out over a dozen other
women, the sperit she had in her; and he was tall enough for both, the
cap'n would say. And proud of each other! He'd have laid down gold
bricks for her to walk on if he'd had his way. Yes, sir, 'twas a sight
to see 'em.

"There ain't no such young folks nowadays; not but what that young
Strong fellow was well enough; he got a nice gal, too. Wal, sir, this
won't thresh the oats. I must be gettin' along. Think mebbe there ain't
no sech hurry about that letter for Leory Pitcher, do ye, Homer? I'll
kerry it if you say so."

"I thank you, Mr. Butters," said Mr. Homer, sadly, "it is immaterial, I
am obliged to you."

CHAPTER XI.

MISS PHOEBE PASSES ON

Miss Phoebe Blyth's death came like a bolt from a clear sky. The
rheumatism, which had for so many years been her companion, struck
suddenly at her heart. A few hours of anguish, and the stout heart had
ceased to beat, the stern yet kindly spirit was gone on its way.

Great was the grief in the village. If not beloved as Miss Vesta was,
Miss Phoebe was venerated by all, as a woman of austere and exalted
piety and of sterling goodness. All Elmerton went to her funeral, on a
clear October day not unlike Miss Phoebe herself, bright, yet touched
with wholesome frost. All Elmerton went about the rest of the day with
hushed voice and sober brow, looking up at the closed shutters of the
Temple of Vesta, and wondering how it fared with the gentle priestess,
now left alone. The shutters were white and fluted, and being closed,
heightened the effect of clean linen which the house always
presented--linen starched to the point of perfection, with a dignified
frill, but no frivolity of lace or trimming.

"I do declare," said Miss Penny Pardon, telling her sister about it all,
"the house looked so like Miss Blyth herself, I expected to hear it say,
'Pray step in and be seated!' just like she used to. Elegant manners
Miss Blyth had; and she walked e