est, past,
present, and future, and on all matters of speculation
attainable by either mind; and though judgments and likings
were often much at variance, and the issues, to the same
argument, were not always the same with each; on one point,
the delight of communication, they were always at one. Clearly
Rufus had no love for the axe, nor for the scythe, but he
could endure both while talking with Winthrop; though many a
time it would happen that axe and scythe would be lost in the
interest of other things; and leaning on his snathe, or
flinging his axe into a cut, Rufus would stand to argue, or
demonstrate, or urge, somewhat just then possessing all his
faculties; till a quiet reminder of his brother's would set
him to laughing and to work again; and sweetly moved the
scythes through the grass, and cheerily rung the axes, for the
winrows were side by side and the ringing answered from tree
to tree. And the inside of home gave Rufus pleasure too. Yet
there were often times, -- when talk was at a standstill, and
mother's "good things" were not on the table, with a string of
happy faces round it, and neither axe nor scythe kept him from
a present feeling of inaction, -- that the shadow reappeared on
Rufus's brow. He would sit in the chimney corner, looking far
down into the hearth-stones, or walk moodily up and down the
floor, behind the backs of the other people, with a face that
seemed to belong to some waste corner of society.

"My son," said Mrs. Landholm, one evening when Mr. Landholm
was out and the little ones in bed, -- "what makes you wear
such a sober face?"

"Nothing, mother, -- only that I am doing nothing."

"Are you sure of that? Your father was saying that he never
saw anybody sow broadcast with a finer hand -- he said you had
done a grand day's work to day."

An impatiently drawn breath was the answer.

"Rufus, nobody is doing _nothing_ who is doing all that God
gives him leave to do."

"No mother -- and nobody ever _will_ do much who does not hold
that leave is given him to make of himself the utmost that he
can."

"And what is that?" she said quietly.

Nobody spoke; and then Rufus said, not quietly,

"Depends on circumstances, ma'am; -- some one thing and some
another."

"My son Rufus, -- we all have the same interest at heart with
you."

"I am sorry for it, ma'am; I would rather be disappointed
alone."

"I hope there will be no disappointment -- I do not look for
any, in the end. C