ted in contempt or
approval to a field here and there; but it was as one who no longer had
any professional interest in the tilling of the land.

Doubtless he was trained to have no understanding of a good to be
derived by his communicating what he felt and getting sympathy. Once,
when he was uncertain, and a secret pride in Dahlia's beauty and
accomplishments had whispered to him that her flight was possibly the
opening of her road to a higher fortune, he made a noise for comfort,
believing in his heart that she was still to be forgiven. He knew better
now. By holding his peace he locked out the sense of shame which speech
would have stirred within him.

"Got on pretty smooth with old Mas' Gammon?" he expressed his hope; and
Robert said, "Capitally. We shall make something out of the old man yet,
never fear."

Master Gammon was condemned to serve at the ready-set tea-table as a
butt for banter; otherwise it was apprehended well that Mrs. Sumfit
would have scorched the ears of all present, save the happy veteran of
the furrows, with repetitions of Dahlia's name, and wailings about her
darling, of whom no one spoke. They suffered from her in spite of every
precaution.

"Well, then, if I'm not to hear anything dooring meals--as if I'd
swallow it and take it into my stomach!--I'll wait again for what ye've
got to tell," she said, and finished her cup at a gulp, smoothing her
apron.

The farmer then lifted his head.

"Mother, if you've done, you'll oblige me by going to bed," he said. "We
want the kitchen."

"A-bed?" cried Mrs. Sumfit, with instantly ruffled lap.

"Upstairs, mother; when you've done--not before."

"Then bad's the noos! Something have happened, William. You 'm not
going to push me out? And my place is by the tea-pot, which I cling to,
rememberin' how I seen her curly head grow by inches up above the table
and the cups. Mas' Gammon," she appealed to the sturdy feeder, "five
cups is your number?"

Her hope was reduced to the prolonging of the service of tea, with
Master Gammon's kind assistance.

"Four, marm," said her inveterate antagonist, as he finished that
amount, and consequently put the spoon in his cup.

Mrs. Sumfit rolled in her chair.

"O Lord, Mas' Gammon! Five, I say; and never a cup less so long as here
you've been."

"Four, marm. I don't know," said Master Gammon, with a slow nod of his
head, "that ever I took five cups of tea at a stretch. Not runnin'."

"I do know, Mas' Gam