atch could appeal to anybody as a desirable plaything. "Oh, no, thank
you; I shouldn't have thought of it."

"I don't know as we ought to have left 'em alone," said Vilda, looking
back, as Samantha urged the moderate Maria over the road; "though I
don't know exactly what they could do."

"Except run away," said Samantha reflectively.

"I wish to the land they would! It would be the easiest way out of a
troublesome matter. Every day that goes by will make it harder for us to
decide what to do with 'em; for you can't do by those you know the same
as if they were strangers."

There was a long main street running through the village north and
south. Toward the north it led through a sweet-scented wood, where the
grass tufts grew in verdant strips along the little-traveled road. It
had been a damp morning, and, though now the sun was shining
brilliantly, the spiders' webs still covered the fields; gossamer laces
of moist, spun silver, through which shone the pink and lilac of the
meadow grasses. The wood was a quiet place, and more than once Miss
Vilda and Samantha had discussed matters there which they would never
have mentioned at the White Farm.

Maria went ambling along serenely through the arcade of trees, where the
sun went wandering softly, "as with his hands before his eyes;"
overhead, the vast blue canopy of heaven, and under the trees the soft
brown leaf carpet, "woven by a thousand autumns."

"I don't know but I could grow to like the baby in time," said Vilda,
"though it's my opinion she's goin' to be dreadful troublesome; but I'm
more 'n half afraid of the boy. Every time he looks at me with those
searchin' eyes of his, I mistrust he's goin' to say something about
Marthy,--all on account of his giving me such a turn when he came to the
door."

"He'd be awful handy round the house, though, Vildy; that is, if he _is_
handy,--pickin' up chips, 'n' layin' fires, 'n' what not; but, 's you
say, he ain't so takin' as the baby at first sight. She's got the same
winnin' way with her that Marthy hed!"

"Yes," said Miss Vilda grimly; "and I guess it's the devil's own way."

"Well, yes, mebbe; 'n' then again mebbe 't ain't. There ain't no reason
why the devil should own all the han'some faces 'n' tunesome laughs, 't
I know of. It doos seem 's if beauty was turrible misleading', 'n' I've
ben glad sometimes the Lord didn't resk none of it on me; for I was
behind the door when good looks was give out, 'n' I'm willin'