t he pulled out his pocketbook. "I will pay you the
dollar, Olive," he said, "if only to stop the dispute about it."

"You shan't do it, Joseph!" exclaimed Gram. "There's no dollar due
her."

But the Old Squire persisted in handing the woman a dollar.

"I do not care whether it is due or not!" he exclaimed. "I have heard
altogether too much of this."

"I thank you, Joseph, for doing me justice of my hard-handed employer,"
said the tall woman, austerely.

"Now did ever anybody hear the like!" Gram exclaimed, pink from
vexation. "Oh, Olive, you--you--you bold thing, to say that of me!"

"There, there!" cried the Old Squire. "Peace, women folks. Remember that
you are both Christians and public professors."

Gram sat and fanned herself, fast and hard. Our visitor folded the dress
into a bundle and marched slowly and austerely out.

"Olive, I hope your conscience is clear," Gram called after her
severely.

"Ruth, I hope your conscience is as clear as mine," the departing one
called back in calm tones, from the yard outside.

She left an awkward silence behind her; breakfast had come to a
standstill; and I improved the elemental sort of hush, to whisper to
Theodora, who had been at the farm a year, and ask who this portentous
disturber of the family credit really was.

"Oh, it is only 'Aunt Olive,'" Theodora whispered back. "She comes here
to help us every spring and fall."

"Is she our actual aunt?" I asked in some dismay.

"No, she isn't our real, kindred aunt," said Theodora, "but folks call
her Aunt Olive. She is a sister to Elder Witham; and they say she can
quote more Scripture than the Elder himself.

"And I'm sort of glad that Gramp gave her the dollar," Theodora added,
in a still lower whisper. "Maybe Gram did forget to pay her, once."

But Gram was both incensed and humiliated. She resumed the interrupted
coffee pouring and handed the Old Squire his cup, with a look of deep
reproach.

Partly to change the unpleasant subject, perhaps, he said to us briskly,
"Boys, if we have good luck and get our haying work along, so we can, we
will all make a trip over to Norridgewock and see Father Rasle's
monument.

"Ruth, wouldn't you like to take a good long drive over to Norridgewock,
after the grain is in?" he asked in pacificatory tones.

"Joseph!" replied Gram, "you make me smile! You have been talking of
driving over to Norridgewock to visit Father Rasle's monument, and of
going to Lovewell's Pond, e