our tea kettle; let it
go. 'Tain't no use to try to utilize everything, Mis' Boddington."

"Evan Knowlton acts as if he thought differently."

"Looks is enough, with some folks," said the farmer; "and she's a
pretty enough creatur', take the outside of her. Had ought to be; for I
guess that sort o' riggin' costs somethin'--don't it, Mis' Boddington?"

"Cost?" said the lady. "Evan Knowlton is a fool if he lets himself be
caught by such butterfly's wings. But men _are_ fools when women are
pretty; there's no use reasoning against nature."

"Wall, Diany," exclaimed Joe Bartlett, now drawing near with _his_
coffee cup,--"how comes you have all the work and other folks all the
fun?"

"Want some coffee, Joe?"

"Fact, I do; that is, supposin' you have got any."

"Plenty, Joe. That's what I am here for. Hold your cup. Who are you
picking for to-day?"

"Wall, _I_ ain't here for fun," said Joe; "there's no mistake about
that. I b'lieve in fun too; I do sartain; but I _don't_ b'lieve in
scratchin' it into you with blackberry brambles, nor no other. Thank'e,
Diany; maybe this'll help me get along with the afternoon."

"I never thought you would mind blackberry thorns, Joe."

"No more I don't, come in the way o' business," said Joe, sipping his
coffee. "Guess I kin stand a few knocks, let alone scratches, when I
calculate to have 'em. But I don' know! my notion of pleasure's
sun'thin' soft and easy like; ain't your'n? I expect to take
scratches--bless you! but I don't call 'em fun. That's all I object to."

"Then how come you here, Joe?"

"Wall,--" said Joe slowly,--"I've got an old mother hum."

"And she wanted some berries?"

"She wanted a lot. What the women does with 'em all, beats me. Anyhow,
the old lady'll have enough this time for all her wants."

"How is she, Joe, to-day?"

"Days don't make no difference to my mother, Diany. You know that,
don't ye? There don't nothin' come wrong to her. I vow, I b'lieve she
kind o' likes it when things is contrairy. I never see her riled by no
sort o' thing; and it's not uncommon for _me_ to be as full's I kin
hold; but she's just like a May mornin', whatever the weather is. There
ain't no scarin' her, either; she'd jest as lieves die as live, I
b'lieve, any day."

"I daresay she would," said Diana, feeling at the moment that it was
not so very wonderful. Life in this world might be so dull as to be not
worth living for.

"It's a puzzle to me," Joe went on, "which is