ep giving him reproachful looks,
every one of which was a silent prayer to him to speak.

The afternoon had worn away, and he had done little work for thinking.
His uncle had not been back, and at last Jem's footstep was heard
outside, and he passed the window to tap lightly on the door and then
open it.

"Come, Mas' Don," he said, cheerily, "going to work all night?"

"No, Jem, no. I was just thinking of going."

"That's right, my lad, because it's past shutting-up time. Feel better
now, don't you?"

"No, Jem, I feel worse."

"Are you going to keep the yard open all the evening, Jem?" cried a
shrill voice. "Why don't you lock-up and come in to tea?"

"There! Hear that!" said Jem, anxiously. "Do go, Mas' Don, or I
sha'n't get to the end on it. 'Nuff to make a man talk as you do."

"Jem!"

"Here, I'm a-coming, arn't I?" he cried, giving the door a thump with
his fist. "Don't shout the ware'us down!"

"Jem!"

"Now did you ever hear such a aggrawatin' woman?" cried Jem. "She's
such a little un that I could pick her up, same as you do a kitten, Mas'
Don--nothing on her as you may say; but the works as is inside her is
that strong that I'm 'fraid of her."

"Jem!"

He opened the door with a rush.

"Ya-a-a-as!" he roared; "don't you know as Mas' Don arn't gone?"

Little Mrs Wimble, who was coming fiercely up, flounced round, and the
wind of her skirts whirled up a dust of scraps of matting and cooper's
chips as she went back to the cottage.

"See that, Mas' Don? Now you think you've all the trouble in the world
on your shoulders, but look at me. Talk about a woman's temper turning
the milk sour in a house. Why, just now there's about three hundred
hogsheads o' sugar in our ware'us--two hundred and ninety-three, and
four damages not quite full, which is as good as saying three hundred--
see the books whether I arn't right. Well, Mas' Don, I tell you for the
truth that I quite frights it--I do, indeed--as she'll turn all that
there sweetness into sour varjus 'fore she's done. Going, sir?"

"Yes, Jem, I'm going--home," said Don; and then to himself, "Ah, I wish
I had a home."

"Poor Mas' Don!" said Jem, as he watched the lad go out through the
gate; "he's down in the dumps now, and no mistake; and dumps is the lot
o' all on us, more or less."

Then Jem went in to his tea, and Don went slowly home to his, and
matters were exactly as he had foreseen. His uncle was scarcely polite;
Kitty gave