a great crybaby, and complain of my lady boarders and the way
they used him? It was Mr. Whit'ell that let it out, or I don't know as I
should ever known about it."

"I'm glad Jeff didn't tell you," said Westover, with a revulsion of good
feeling toward him.

"He'd 'a' died first," said his mother. "But Mr. Whit'ell done just right
all through, and I sha'n't soon forget it. Jeff's give me a proper goin'
over for what I done; both the boys have. But I couldn't help it, and I
should do just so again. All is, I wanted you should know just what you
was blamin' me for--"

"I don't know that I blame you. I only wish you could have helped
it--managed some other way."

"I did try to get over it, and all I done was to lose a night's rest.
Then, this morning, when I see her settin' there so cool and mighty with
the boarders, and takin' the lead as usual, I just waited till she got
Whit'ell across, and nearly everybody was there that saw what she done to
Jeff, and then I flew out on her."

Westover could not suppress a laugh. "Well, Mrs. Durgin, your retaliation
was complete; it was dramatic."

"I don't know what you mean by that," said Mrs. Durgin, rising and
resuming her self-control; she did not refuse herself a grim smile. "But
I guess she thought it was pretty perfect herself--or she will, when
she's able to give her mind to it. I'm sorry for her daughter; I never
had anything against her; or her mother, either, for that matter, before.
Franky look after you pretty well? I'll send him up with your ice-water.
Got everything else you want?"

"I should have to invent a want if I wished to complain," said Westover.

"Well, I should like to have you do it. We can't ever do too much for
you. Well, good-night, Mr. Westover."

"Good'-night, Mrs. Durgin."

XIII.

Jeff Durgin entered Harvard that fall, with fewer conditions than most
students have to work off. This was set down to the credit of Lovewell
Academy, where he had prepared for the university; and some observers in
such matters were interested to note how thoroughly the old school in a
remote town had done its work for him.

None who formed personal relations with him at that time conjectured that
he had done much of the work for himself, and even to Westover, when Jeff
came to him some weeks after his settlement in Cambridge, he seemed
painfully out of his element, and unamiably aware of it. For the time, at
least, he had lost the jovial humor, not too ki