t out a finger, and Jocko clawed it without ceremony" 119

"'Careful with that Bride Blush, Willy'" 143

"'Perhaps this is as good medicine as you can take!' he said" 262

MRS. TREE

CHAPTER I.

WEDDING BELLS

"Well, they're gone!" said Direxia Hawkes.

"H'm!" said Mrs. Tree.

Direxia had been to market, and, it was to be supposed, had brought
home, beside the chops and the soup-piece, all the information the
village afforded. She had now, after putting away her austere little
bonnet and cape, brought a china basin, and a mystic assortment of white
cloths, and was polishing the window-panes, which did not need
polishing. From time to time she glanced at her mistress, who sat bolt
upright in her chair, engaged on a severe-looking piece of knitting.
Mrs. Tree detested knitting, and it was always a bad sign when she put
away her book and took up the needles.

"Yes'm; they're gone. I see 'em go. Ithuriel Butters drove 'em over to
the Junction; come in yesterday o' purpose, and put up his team at
Doctor Stedman's. Ithuriel thinks a sight of Doctor Strong. Yes'm; folks
was real concerned to see him go, and her too. They made a handsome
couple, if they be both light-complected."

"What are you doing to that window, Direxia Hawkes?" demanded Mrs. Tree,
looking up from her knitting with a glittering eye.

"I was cleanin' it."

"I'm glad to hear it. I never should have supposed so from looking at
it. Perhaps you'd better let it alone."

"You're a terrible tedious woman to live with, Mis' Tree!" said
Direxia.

"You're welcome to go any minute," replied Mrs. Tree.

"Yes'm," said Direxia. "What kind of sauce would you like for tea?"

"Any kind except yours," said Mrs. Tree; and then both smiled grimly,
and felt better.

Direxia polished away, still with an anxious eye on the old woman whom
she loved fiercely.

"He sent a message to you, last thing before he drove off. He wanted I
should tell you--what's this now he said? 'Tell her to keep on growing
young till I come back,' that was it. Well, he's a perfect gentleman,
that's what he is."

Something clicked in Mrs. Tree's throat, but she said nothing. Mrs. Tree
was over ninety, but apart from an amazing reticulation of wrinkles,
netted fine and close as a brown veil, she showed little sign of her
great age. As she herself said, she had her teeth and her wits, and she
did not see what more any one wanted. In her morning gown of