ke that! You are getting on
elegant. Hasn't brother D. learned you to read a lot of pieces in your
first reader? And ain't we going to begin on handwriting next? Wouldn't
you like to have a slate, and a sponge to rub out with?"

In an instant her mood veered.

"And a basket?" she cried eagerly. "The children carry a basket, too. I
see them when I peep through the shutters. Can I have a basket, too?"

The network of complexities that was closing in upon Mr. Opp apparently
affected his body more than his spirits. He seemed to shrivel and
dwindle as the pressure increased; but the fire in his eyes shone
brighter than before.

"None of his folks live long over forty," said Mrs. Fallows,
lugubriously; "they sorter burn themselves out."

Hinton, meanwhile, utterly unaware of being the partial cause of the
seismic disturbance in the editorial bosom, pursued the monotonous
routine of his days. It had taken him only a short time to adapt himself
to the changes that the return of the daughter of the house had brought
about. He had anticipated her arrival with the dread a nervous invalid
always feels toward anything that may jolt him out of his habitual rut.
He held a shuddering remembrance of her musical accomplishments, and
foresaw with dread the noisy crowd of young people she might bring about
the house.

But Guinevere had slipped into her place, an absent-minded, dreamy,
detached damsel, asserting nothing, claiming nothing, bending like a
flower in the high winds of her mother's wrath.

Hinton watched the dominating influence nip every bud of individuality
that the girl ventured to put forth, and he determined to interfere.
During the long months he had spent with Mrs. Gusty he had discovered a
way to manage her. The weak spot in her armor was pride of intellect;
she acknowledged no man her superior. By the use of figurative
language, and references to esoteric matters, he was always able to
baffle and silence her. His joy in handling her in one of her tempers
was similar to that of controlling a cat-boat in squally weather. Both
experiences redounded to his masculine supremacy.

One hot August day, he and Mrs. Gusty had just had an unusually sharp
round, but he had succeeded, by alternate compliment and sarcasm, in
reducing her to a very frustrated and baffled condition.

It was Sunday, the day the Cove elected for a spiritual wash-day. In the
morning the morals of the community were scrubbed and rinsed in the
mee