low."

"I have read the lives of both kinds of people--the good, and those who
were not pious. The former seemed to be the happiest always."

"They say Mr. Winthrop is a great man--writes fine works and things--but
he's not happy. I take more good out of Oaklands and the horses than he
does. He seems to sense the flower-gardens a good deal. I often find him
there early of a summer's morning when I go to work, with a bit of paper
and a pencil writing away for dear life; and he don't seem to mind me any
more'n if I was one of the vegetables."

I smiled at Thomas' comparison; for now that he mentioned it, he did seem
something like an animated turnip.

"I dare say he has far higher pleasures than you or I ever experience.
His thoughts are like a rich kingdom to him."

"He's had some pretty bitter thoughts, I guess. He got crossed in love
once, and its sort of made him dislike wimmen folks. Maybe you've noticed
it yourself?" Thomas gave me a searching look.

"I did not know he ever cared for a woman in his life. I thought he was
above such things," I murmured, too astonished to think of a proper
reply.

"There's very few men get up that high, I reckon; leastaways, I've never
sot eyes on them."

I turned a quizzical look on Thomas, which he understood--his face
reddened.

"I don't claim to be one of the high kind, but I allow Oaklands is better
for me than a wife. I never sot great store by wimmen folks. They're
sort of pernicketty cattle to manage; I'd sooner take to horses; and if
one happens to die, you don't feel so cut up like as if it was a wife.
Now there's Dan Blake. Marrying's been enough sight more worryment to him
than comfort. I've figgured up the pros and cons close, and them that
keeps single don't age near as fast as the married ones. There's the
widow Larkum, if she'd kept single, she'd have been young and blooming
now. Human folks is many of them very poor witted," Thomas concluded,
with fine scorn, and then he was silent.

My thoughts went off in eager surprise over that strange episode in Mr.
Winthrop's life, wondering what sort of a woman it was who had power so
to mar his happiness, and why she had not responded to his love, and all
the fascinating story that my sense of honor prevented me from finding
out from Thomas, or Mrs. Blake, or even Mrs. Flaxman. Now that I had
quiet to think it over, it seemed like desecration to have the stolid,
phlegmatic Thomas talk about it.

He turned to me a