each other for so long in the most
confidential manner, they know every foible. How Robert drank, and Tom
bet, and Sam swore, and Bill knocked his wife about, and Joseph did as
Potiphar's spouse asked him, and why your uncle had to take refuge in
Spain; and so on to an indefinite extent, like the multiplication table.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

CHAPTER IX.

THIS discordance between her father and mother hurt Amaryllis'
affectionate heart exceedingly. It seemed to be always breaking out all
the year round.

Of a summer's eve, when the day's work among the hot hay was done, Iden
would often go out and sit under the russet apple till the dew had
filled the grass like a green sea. When the tide of the dew had risen he
would take off his heavy boots and stockings, and so walk about in the
cool shadows of eve, paddling in the wet grass. He liked the refreshing
coolness and the touch of the sward. It was not for washing, because he
was scrupulously clean under the ragged old coat; it was because he
liked the grass. There was nothing very terrible in it; men, and women,
too, take off their shoes and stockings, and wade about on the sands at
the sea, and no one thinks that it is anything but natural, reasonable,
and pleasant. But, then, you see, _everybody_ does it at the seaside,
and Iden alone waded in the dew, and that was his crime--that he alone
did it.

The storm and rage of Mrs. Iden whenever she knew he was paddling in the
grass was awful. She would come shuffling out--she had a way of rubbing
her shoes along the ground when irritated with her hands under her
apron, which she twisted about--and pelt him with scorn.

"There, put your boots on--do, and hide your nasty feet!" (Iden had a
particularly white skin, and feet as white as a lady's.) "Disgusting!
Nobody ever does it but you, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself!
Anything more disgusting I never heard of. Nobody else but you would
ever think of such a thing; makes me feel queer to see you."

Shuffling about, and muttering to herself, "Nobody else"--that was the
sin and guilt of it--by-and-by Mrs. Iden would circle round to where he
had left his boots, and, suddenly seizing them, would fling them in the
ditch.

And I verily believe, in the depth of her indignation, if she had not
been afraid to touch firearms, she would have brought out the gun, and
had a shot at him.

After a time Iden left his old post at the russet apple, and