presently turned itself into the bright kitchen lamp that stood
between them as Maria sewed her long winter seam and looked up
contentedly to see Mr. Haydon sitting opposite with his weekly
newspaper.

V.

Mr. Haydon owned one of the last old-fashioned two-wheeled chaises, a
select few of which still survived in the retired region of Atfield.
It would not have suited him to go to church in a wagon like his
neighbors, any more than he could have bought a rough working-suit of
new clothes for every day. The chaise-top had always framed the faces
of Mr. Haydon and Martha, his first wife, in a fitting manner not
unlike a Friend's plain bonnet on a larger scale; it had belonged to
their placid appearance of old-time respectability. Now that Maria,
the second wife, had taken the vacant seat by the driver's side, her
fresher color and eager enjoyment of the comfort and dignity of the
situation were remarked with pleasure. She had not been forward about
keeping Mr. Haydon company before their marriage; for some reason she
was not a constant church-goer, and usually had some excuse for
staying at home, both on Sundays and when there was any expedition on
business to one of the neighboring towns. But after the wedding these
invitations were accepted as a matter of course.

One Sunday afternoon they were bobbing home from meeting in their
usual sedate and placid fashion. There had been a very good sermon,
and two or three strangers in the congregation, old acquaintances who
had left Atfield for the West, stopped to speak with their friends
after the service was over. It was a lovely day, and there was the
peacefulness of Sunday over the landscape, the wide untenanted fields,
the woods near and far, and the distant hills. The old pacing horse
jogged steadily along.

"I was thinking how your wife would have enjoyed seeing the folks;
wouldn't she?" said Maria, with gentle sympathy.

"The thought was just dwelling in my mind," said the old man, turning
toward her, a little surprised.

"I was sorry I was stand in' right there; they didn't feel so free to
speak, you know," said Maria, who had accepted her place as substitute
with a touching self-forgetfulness and devotion, following as best she
could the humblest by-paths of the first Mrs. Haydon's career.

"Marthy and Mis' Chellis that you saw to-day was always the best of
friends; they was girls together," said Mr. Haydon, swaying his
whip-lash. "They was second cousins on