be." And eagerly and
naively we discussed the possibilities as we walked homeward....

* * * * *

After my talk with Uncle Beck all my morbidity began to melt away, and,
growing better in mind, my body grew stronger ... he wrote to my father
that it was not consumption ... so now I was turning my coming West into
a passing visit, instead of a long enforced sojourn there for the good
of my health.

* * * * *

I found different household arrangements on revisiting Aunt Rachel and
her household.

For one thing, the family had moved into town ... Newcastle ... and they
had a fine house to live in, neat and comfortable. Gone was that
atmosphere of picturesque, pioneer poverty. Though, to be sure, there
sat Josh close up against the kitchen stove, as of old. For the first
sharp days of fall were come ... he was spitting streams of tobacco, as
usual.

"I hate cities," was his first greeting to me. He squirted a brown
parabola of tobacco juice, parenthetically, into the wood-box behind the
stove, right on top of the cat that had some kittens in there.

Aunt Rachel caught him at it.

"Josh, how often have I told you you mustn't spit on that cat."

"'Scuse me, Ma, I'm kind o' absint-minded."

The incident seemed to me so funny that I laughed hard. Aunt Rachel gave
me a quiet smile.

"Drat the boy, he's allus findin' somethin' funny about things!"

This made me laugh more. But I had brought Uncle Josh a big plug of
tobacco, and he was placated, ripping off a huge chew as soon as he held
it in his hands.

The great change I have just spoken of came over the family because
Phoebe's two sisters, Jessie and Mona--who had been off studying to be
nurses, now had come back, and, taking cases in town, they were making a
good living both for themselves and the two old folks....

I had learned from Uncle Beck, as he drove me in to Mornington, that,
the last he heard of Phoebe, she was working out as a maid to "some
swells," in that city.

* * * * *

"Damme, ef I don't hate cities an' big towns," ejaculated Uncle Josh,
breaking out of a long, meditative silence, "you kain't keep no dogs
there ... onless they're muzzled ... and no ferrets, neither ... and
what 'ud be the use if you could?... there ain't nothin' to hunt anyhow
... wisht we lived back on thet old muddy hilltop agin."

* * * * *

Sup