an electric shock.

"N-no, but we're jist startin'," he said, apologetically. She passed
him to where Mr. Sawyer stood in the doorway wrestling with his collar.

"Do you remember this, Jake?" she asked, holding up a baby's rattle.
"I bought it for your little Joey, and put it away in my desk till he
would be big enough to use it, and it's been there ever since. Maybe
the new baby'll like it."

The man's eyes grew misty as he took the little toy and gazed at it
tenderly. The woman's face had lost all its sternness; her gray eyes
were very kind.

"Well, well, well," he stammered, with masculine dread of giving
expression to anything like sentiment. "It--it looks quite--new." He
hesitated, then his face brightened as he found himself once more on
familiar ground. "Say, d'ye think you could help them weemin folks in
there to find my pipe? It seems to have got laid away somewheres, an'
I'm afraid we're goin' to miss that train as sure as--anything." He
ended up lamely, making the polite alteration out of respect for the
Duke's dignity.

Miss Weir marched into the kitchen. It was a scene of wild disorder.

"Hello!" giggled Miss Long. "We're having an awful time. Hannah ain't
ready, of course."

"_Isn't_ ready, Ella Anne."

"Well, isn't or ain't, it's all the same; she's not started yet. An'
mind you, Mrs. Munn's upstairs helping, too, and her expecting the new
doctor any minit. Say, Miss Weir, when she comes down, ask her whether
he's married or not, aw, do. She's the closest creature. I can't get
anything out of her."

Before the schoolmistress could rebuke Miss Long's undue curiosity
regarding the young doctor Mrs. Winters came flying down the stairs,
having successfully routed the blue cuffs.

"Good-morning, Miss Weir. We're here yet, you see. If these folks
ain't a caution, and no mistake! Davy! Davy Munn! Are you listening
for that there train?"

"Did ye look on the pantry shelf?" whispered Jake, cautiously, putting
his head in at the door, and avoiding Mrs. Winters' eye. "Sometimes I
leave it there."

"Just like you," grumbled the tidy schoolmistress, rummaging among the
cans of spice and pickle bottles.

"Perhaps it's in the sewing-machine drawer," suggested Mrs. Munn, who
had come panting down the stairs. "Hannah's jist ready, Jake," she
added, hopefully.

"What'll you do if the new doctor comes on this train?" asked Miss
Long, peeping at her pompadour in the little mirror abo