was the first to visit us--soon after
he came to Hempfield--but the old Captain and Anthy were not many
Sundays behind him. They usually drove out with one of Joe Crane's
horses (charged against advertising in the _Star_), and on such
occasions the Captain was very grand in his long coat and wide hat--and
gloves. He always greeted Harriet with chivalrous formality, inquired
after her health, and usually had some bit of old-fashioned gallantry to
offer her, which always bothered her just a little, especially if she
happened at the moment to catch my eye. I had great trouble getting
Fergus to come at all; but having once lured him out, Harriet's
gingerbread soon finished him.

At first there was an amusing struggle between Harriet and Fergus, in
which, of course, that Scotchman came off second best--and never knew
that he was beaten! You see, Fergus is never entirely happy unless he
can tip back in his chair, until you are certain he is going over
backward and smash the door of the china closet. Also, he smokes the
worst tobacco in the world. On the occasion of his second visit he went
prowling around the room for a straight-back chair to sit in, but
Harriet shooed him irresistibly toward an effeminate rocker, where he
could gratify his instinct for tipping back, and not endanger the family
china.

During the week that followed Harriet made a scientific study of the
drafts in our living-room (that is, I think she did), and on the next
Sunday she not only shooed Fergus into a rocker, but that rocker was so
placed near the window that the tobacco smoke was drawn straight out of
the room. After that, she made Fergus so comfortable within and
without--especially within--that he thought her a very wonderful woman.
As she is.

As for Harriet and me, these Sunday gatherings--which often included the
Scotch preacher, or our neighbour Horace, or, rarely, the
Starkweathers--these visits were delightful beyond comparison. By
Saturday night there was not a speck of dust in the house that was
visible to the naked eye, and by three o'clock Sunday (if there was no
one in to dinner) Harriet and I began an unacknowledged contest to see
which of us would be the first to catch sight of the visitors coming up
the town road or across the fields. We both pretended we weren't
looking--but we were.

It was on the Sunday afternoon following the publication of the poetry,
just after I had come in from the barn, that I saw Nort coming down the