left the features of young Revercomb, and he turned back, with
a scowl on his forehead, while old Adam cackled softly over the stem of
his pipe.

"Wiles come as natchel to women as wickedness to men, young Adam," he
said. "The time to beware of 'em is in yo' youth befo' they've bewitched
yo'. Why, 'tis only since I've turned ninety that I've trusted myself to
think upon the sex with freedom."

"I'm bewarin'," replied his son, "but when Molly Merryweather widens her
eyes and bites her underlip, it ain't in the natur of man or beast to
stand out agin her. Why, if it had been anybody else but the rector I
could have sworn I saw him squeezin' her hand when he let down the bars
for her last Sunday."

"It's well knowed that when he goes to upbraid her for makin' eyes at
him durin' the 'Have mercy on me,' he takes a mortal long time about the
business," responded Solomon, "but, good Lord, 'tain't fur me to wish
it different, seein' it only bears out all I've argured about false
doctrines an' evil practice. From the sprinklin' of the head thar's but
a single step downward to the holdin' of hands."

"Well, I'm a weak man like the rest of you," rejoined young Adam, "an'
though I'm sound on the doctrines--in practice I sometimes backslide.
I'm thankful, however, it's the lesser sin an' don't set so heavy on the
stomach."

"Ah, it's the light women like Molly Merryweather that draws the eyes of
the young," lamented old Adam.

"A pretty bit of vanity, is she?" inquired the stranger lightly, and
fell back the next instant before the vigorous form of the miller, who
swung round upon him with the smothered retort, "That's a lie!" The
boyish face of the young countryman had paled under his sunburn and he
spoke with the suppressed passion of a man who is not easily angered and
who responds to the pressure of some absorbing emotion.

"Lord, Lord, Abel, Mr. Jonathan warn't meanin' no particular disrespect,
not mo' was I," quavered old Adam.

"You're too pipin' hot, miller," interposed Solomon. "They warn't
meanin' any harm to you nor to the gal either. With half the county
courtin' her it ain't to be expected that she'd go as sober as a grey
mare, is it?"

"Well, they're wastin' their time," retorted the miller, "for she
marries me, thank God, this coming April."

Turning away the next instant, he vaulted astride the bare back of the
mare, and started at a gallop in the direction of the turnpike.

"I'll be blessed if that li