g. Now he has been insulted by Anna Barly, who
did as she had a mind to. Well, well . . ."

"No matter," said Mrs. Grumble comfortably, "there's the baby; you
can't get around that."

"Mrs. Grumble," said Mr. Jeminy earnestly, "I am going to Farmer Barly.
I am going to say to him, 'Let me have Anna's baby, and we'll say no
more about it.' Yes, that is what I am going to do."

"Well," gasped Mrs. Grumble, throwing herself back in her chair, "well,
I never . . . so that's it . . . I can tell you this: the day that
baby comes into this house, I go out of it. Why, who ever heard of
such a thing? No, indeed."

"There," she thought to herself, "that's what comes of people like Mrs.
Wicket."

"Mrs. Grumble," said Mr. Jeminy.

"I've no more to say," said Mrs. Grumble.

"Mrs. Grumble," pleaded Mr. Jeminy, "I am an old man. There is nothing
left for me to do in the world any more. I am sure you would be
pleased with Anna's baby. Let us do this much for youth; for the new
world."

"I declare," cried Mrs. Grumble, "you'll drive me clean out of my wits.
The new world . . . you mean Sodom and Gomorrah, more like. The new
world . . . sakes alive."

"Mrs. Grumble," said Mr. Jeminy, "the old world is dead and gone. Let
the young be free to build a new world. It will be happier than ours.
It will be a world of love, and candor. Perhaps it will be also a
world of poverty. That would not do any harm, Mrs. Grumble."

"A fine world," said Mrs. Grumble. "At least, I won't live to see much
of it, I've that to be thankful for."

"Finer than what it is," retorted Mr. Jeminy, losing his temper, "finer
than what it is. Not the same, sad pattern."

"The old pattern is good enough for me," replied Mrs. Grumble.

"You're a fossil," said Mr. Jeminy.

Then Mrs. Grumble raised her voice in prayer. "Lord," she prayed,
"don't let me forget myself. Because if I do . . ."

"Yes, that's it," cried Mr. Jeminy, "stop up your ears . . ." And out
he went in a rage. Mrs. Grumble, left alone, looked after him with
flashing eyes and a heaving bosom. "Oh," she breathed, "if I could
only lay my hands on him."

But when she did, at last, lay hands on him, it was not in the way she
looked for, as she sat rocking up and down, waiting for him to come
home again.

IX

THE SCHOOLMASTER LEAVES HILLSBORO,
HIS WORK THERE SEEMINGLY AT AN END

Mr. Jeminy came slowly out of the post-office, and turned up the road
leading to