o tell Mrs. Pritchett and her daughter their
reason for coming to Hillcrest, and what they hoped to do there.

"For the land's sake!" gasped the farmer's wife. "I dunno what Cyrus'll
say to this."

It struck Lyddy that they all seemed to be somewhat in fear of what Mr.
Pritchett might say. He seemed to be a good deal of a "bogie" in the
family.

"We shall not interfere with Mr. Pritchett's original arrangement with
Aunt Jane," exclaimed Lyddy, patiently.

"Well, ye'll hafter talk to Cyrus when he comes in to dinner," said the
farmer's wife. "I dunno how he'll take it."

"_We_ should worry about how he 'takes it,'" commented 'Phemie in Lyddy's
ear. "I guess we've got the keys to Hillcrest and Aunt Jane's permission
to live in the house and make what we can off the place. What more is
there to it?"

But the older Bray girl caught a glimpse of Cyrus Pritchett as he came up
the path from the stables, and she saw that he was nothing at all like
his rotund and jolly wife--not in outward appearance, at least.

The Pritchett children got their extreme height from Cyrus--and their
leanness. He was a grizzled man, whose head stooped forward because he
was so tall, and who looked fiercely on the world from under penthouse
brows.

Every feature of his countenance was grim and forbidding. His cheeks were
gray, with a stubble of grizzled beard upon them. When he came in and was
introduced to the visitors he merely grunted an acknowledgment of their
names and immediately dropped into his seat at the head of the table.

As the others came flocking about the board, Cyrus Pritchett opened his
lips just once, and not until the grace had been uttered did the visitors
understand that it was meant for a reverence before meat.

"For wha' we're 'bout to r'ceive make us tru' grat'ful--pass the butter,
Sairy," and the old man helped himself generously and began at once to
stow the provender away without regard to the need or comfort of the
others about his board.

But Maw Pritchett and her son and daughter seemed to be used to the old
man's way, and they helped each other and the Bray girls with no niggard
hand. Nor did the shuttle of conversation lag.

"Why, I ain't been in the old doctor's house since he died," said Mrs.
Pritchett, reflectively. "Mis' Hammon', she's been up here two or three
times, an' she allus goes up an' looks things over; but I'm too fat for
walkin' up to Hillcrest--I be," concluded the lady, with a chuckle.