d the old butternut sent pleasant shadows dancing to and fro.

His advent, like that of Orpheus in Hades, seemed to soothe all
unpropitious powers with a sudden spell. The fire began to slacken,
the kettles began to lull, the meat began to cook, the irons began to
cool, the clothes began to behave, the spirits began to rise, and the
collar was finished off with most triumphant success. John watched the
change, and, though a lord of creation, abased himself to take
compassion on the weaker vessel, and was seized with a great desire to
lighten the homely tasks that tried her strength of body and soul. He
took a comprehensive glance about the room; then, extracting a dish
from the closet, proceeded to imbrue his hands in the strawberries'
blood.

"Oh, John, you needn't do that; I shall have time when I've turned the
meat, made the pudding, and done these things. See, I'm getting on
finely now;--you're a judge of such matters; isn't that nice?"

As she spoke, Nan offered the polished absurdity for inspection with
innocent pride.

"Oh that I were a collar, to sit upon that hand!" sighed
John,--adding, argumentatively, "As to the berry question, I might
answer it with a gem from Dr. Watts, relative to 'Satan' and 'idle
hands,' but will merely say, that, as a matter of public safety, you'd
better leave me alone; for such is the destructiveness of my nature,
that I shall certainly eat something hurtful, break something
valuable, or sit upon something crushable, unless you let me
concentrate my energies by knocking off these young fellows' hats, and
preparing them for their doom."

Looking at the matter in a charitable light, Nan consented, and went
cheerfully on with her work, wondering how she could have thought
ironing an infliction, and been so ungrateful for the blessings of her
lot.

"Where's Sally?" asked John, looking vainly for the energetic
functionary who usually pervaded that region like a domestic
police-woman, a terror to cats, dogs, and men.

"She has gone to her cousin's funeral, and won't be back till Monday.
There seems to be a great fatality among her relations; for one dies,
or comes to grief in some way, about once a month. But I don't blame
poor Sally for wanting to get away from this place now and then. I
think I could find it in my heart to murder an imaginary friend or
two, if I had to stay here long."

And Nan laughed so blithely, it was a pleasure to hear her.

"Where's Di?" asked John, sei