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+The Project Gutenberg Etext Rudder Grange, by Frank R. Stockton
+#4 in our series by Frank R. Stockton
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+Rudder Grange
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+by Frank R. Stockton
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+December, 1999  [Etext #2011]
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+*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END*
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+
+
+
+
+RUDDER GRANGE
+
+by Frank R. Stockton
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+Treating of a Novel Style of Dwelling-house
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+Treating of a Novel Style of Boarder
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+Treating of a Novel Style of Girl
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+Treating of a Novel Style of Burglar
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+Pomona Produces a Partial Revolution in Rudder Grange
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+The New Rudder Grange
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+Treating of an Unsuccessful Broker and a Dog
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+Pomona Once More
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+We Camp Out
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+Wet Blankets
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+The Boarder's Visit
+
+
+ChAPTER XII.
+
+Lord Edward and the Tree-man
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+Pomona's Novel
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+Pomona takes a Bridal Trip
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+In which two New Friends disport themselves
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+In which an Old Friend appears, and the Bridal Trip takes a Fresh
+Start
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+In which we take a Vacation and look for David Dutton
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+Our Tavern
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+The Baby at Rudder Grange
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+The Other Baby at Rudder Grange
+
+
+
+RUDDER GRANGE.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+TREATING OF A NOVEL STYLE OF DWELLING HOUSE.
+
+
+For some months after our marriage, Euphemia and I boarded.  But we
+did not like it.  Indeed, there was no reason why we should like
+it.  Euphemia said that she never felt at home except when she was
+out, which feeling, indicating such an excessively unphilosophic
+state of mind, was enough to make me desire to have a home of my
+own, where, except upon rare and exceptional occasions, my wife
+would never care to go out.
+
+If you should want to rent a house, there are three ways to find
+one.  One way is to advertise; another is to read the
+advertisements of other people.  This is a comparatively cheap way.
+A third method is to apply to an agent.  But none of these plans
+are worth anything.  The proper way is to know some one who will
+tell you of a house that will exactly suit you.  Euphemia and I
+thoroughly investigated this matter, and I know that what I say is
+a fact.
+
+We tried all the plans.  When we advertised, we had about a dozen
+admirable answers, but in these, although everything seemed to
+suit, the amount of rent was not named.  (None of those in which
+the rent was named would do at all.)  And when I went to see the
+owners, or agents of these suitable houses, they asked much higher
+rents than those mentioned in the unavailable answers--and this,
+notwithstanding the fact that they always asserted that their terms
+were either very reasonable or else greatly reduced on account of
+the season being advanced.  (It was now the fifteenth of May.)
+
+Euphemia and I once wrote a book,--this was just before we were
+married,--in which we told young married people how to go to
+housekeeping and how much it would cost them.  We knew all about
+it, for we had asked several people.  Now the prices demanded as
+yearly rental for small furnished houses, by the owners and agents
+of whom I have been speaking, were, in many cases, more than we had
+stated a house could be bought and furnished for!
+
+The advertisements of other people did not serve any better.  There
+was always something wrong about the houses when we made close
+inquiries, and the trouble was generally in regard to the rent.
+With agents we had a little better fortune.  Euphemia sometimes
+went with me on my expeditions to real estate offices, and she
+remarked that these offices were always in the basement, or else
+you had to go up to them in an elevator.  There was nothing between
+these extremes.  And it was a good deal the same way, she said,
+with their houses.  They were all very low indeed in price and
+quality, or else too high.
+
+One trouble was that we wanted a house in a country place, not very
+far from the city, and not very far from the railroad station or
+steamboat landing.  We also wanted the house to be nicely shaded
+and fully furnished, and not to be in a malarial neighborhood, or
+one infested by mosquitoes.
+
+"If we do go to housekeeping," said Euphemia, "we might as well get
+a house to suit us while we are about it.  Moving is more expensive
+than a fire."
+
+There was one man who offered us a house that almost suited us.  It
+was near the water, had rooms enough, and some--but not very much--
+ground, and was very accessible to the city.  The rent, too, was
+quite reasonable.  But the house was unfurnished.  The agent,
+however, did not think that this would present any obstacle to our
+taking it.  He was sure that the owner would furnish it if we paid
+him ten per cent, on the value of the furniture he put into it.  We
+agreed that if the landlord would do this and let us furnish the
+house according to the plans laid down in our book, that we would
+take the house.  But unfortunately this arrangement did not suit
+the landlord, although he was in the habit of furnishing houses for
+tenants and charging them ten per cent. on the cost.
+
+I saw him myself and talked to him about it.
+
+"But you see," said he, when I had shown him our list of articles
+necessary for the furnishing of a house, "it would not pay me to
+buy all these things, and rent them out to you.  If you only wanted
+heavy furniture, which would last for years, the plan would answer,
+but you want everything.  I believe the small conveniences you have
+on this list come to more money than the furniture and carpets."
+
+"Oh, yes," said I.  "We are not so very particular about furniture
+and carpets, but these little conveniences are the things that make
+housekeeping pleasant, and,--speaking from a common-sense point of
+view,--profitable."
+
+"That may be," he answered, "but I can't afford to make matters
+pleasant and profitable for you in that way.  Now, then, let us
+look at one or two particulars.  Here, on your list, is an ice-
+pick: twenty-five cents.  Now, if I buy that ice-pick and rent it
+to you at two and a-half cents a year, I shall not get my money
+back unless it lasts you ten years.  And even then, as it is not
+probable that I can sell that ice-pick after you have used it for
+ten years, I shall have made nothing at all by my bargain.  And
+there are other things in that list, such as feather-dusters and
+lamp-chimneys, that couldn't possibly last ten years.  Don't you
+see my position?"
+
+I saw it.  We did not get that furnished house.  Euphemia was
+greatly disappointed.
+
+"It would have been just splendid," she said, "to have taken our
+book and have ordered all these things at the stores, one after
+another, without even being obliged to ask the price."
+
+I had my private doubts in regard to this matter of price.  I am
+afraid that Euphemia generally set down the lowest price and the
+best things.  She did not mean to mislead, and her plan certainly
+made our book attractive.  But it did not work very well in
+practice.  We have a friend who undertook to furnish her house by
+our book, and she never could get the things as cheaply as we had
+them quoted.
+
+"But you see," said Euphemia, to her, "we had to put them down at
+very low prices, because the model house we speak of in the book is
+to be entirely furnished for just so much."
+
+But, in spite of this explanation, the lady was not satisfied.
+
+We found ourselves obliged to give up the idea of a furnished
+house.  We would have taken an unfurnished one and furnished it
+ourselves, but we had not money enough.  We were dreadfully afraid
+that we should have to continue to board.
+
+It was now getting on toward summer, at least there was only a part
+of a month of spring left, and whenever I could get off from my
+business Euphemia and I made little excursions into the country
+round about the city.  One afternoon we went up the river, and
+there we saw a sight that transfixed us, as it were.  On the bank,
+a mile or so above the city, stood a canal-boat.  I say stood,
+because it was so firmly imbedded in the ground by the river-side,
+that it would have been almost as impossible to move it as to have
+turned the Sphinx around.  This boat we soon found was inhabited by
+an oyster-man and his family.  They had lived there for many years
+and were really doing quite well.  The boat was divided, inside,
+into rooms, and these were papered and painted and nicely
+furnished.  There was a kitchen, a living-room, a parlor and
+bedrooms.  There were all sorts of conveniences--carpets on the
+floors, pictures, and everything, at least so it seemed to us, to
+make a home comfortable.  This was not all done at once, the
+oyster-man told me.  They had lived there for years and had
+gradually added this and that until the place was as we saw it.  He
+had an oyster-bed out in the river and he made cider in the winter,
+but where he got the apples I don't know.  There was really no
+reason why he should not get rich in time.
+
+Well, we went all over that house and we praised everything so much
+that the oyster-man's wife was delighted, and when we had some
+stewed oysters afterward,--eating them at a little table under a
+tree near by,--I believe that she picked out the very largest
+oysters she had, to stew for us.  When we had finished our supper
+and had paid for it, and were going down to take our little boat
+again,--for we had rowed up the river,--Euphemia stopped and looked
+around her.  Then she clasped her hands and exclaimed in an
+ecstatic undertone:
+
+"We must have a canal-boat!"
+
+And she never swerved from that determination.
+
+After I had seriously thought over the matter, I could see no good
+reason against adopting this plan.  It would certainly be a cheap
+method of living, and it would really be housekeeping.  I grew more
+and more in favor of it.  After what the oyster-man had done, what
+might not we do?  HE had never written a book on housekeeping, nor,
+in all probability, had he considered the matter, philosophically,
+for one moment in all his life.
+
+But it was not an easy thing to find a canal-boat.  There were none
+advertised for rent--at least, not for housekeeping purposes.
+
+We made many inquiries and took many a long walk along the water-
+courses in the vicinity of the city, but all in vain.  Of course,
+we talked a great deal about our project and our friends became
+greatly interested in it, and, of course, too, they gave us a great
+deal of advice, but we didn't mind that.  We were philosophical
+enough to know that you can't have shad without bones.  They were
+good friends and, by being careful in regard to the advice, it
+didn't interfere with our comfort.
+
+We were beginning to be discouraged, at least Euphemia was.  Her
+discouragement is like water-cresses, it generally comes up in a
+very short time after she sows her wishes.  But then it withers
+away rapidly, which is a comfort.  One evening we were sitting,
+rather disconsolately, in our room, and I was reading out the
+advertisements of country board in a newspaper, when in rushed Dr.
+Heare--one of our old friends.  He was so full of something that he
+had to say that he didn't even ask us how we were.  In fact, he
+didn't appear to want to know.
+
+"I tell you what it is," said he, "I have found just the very thing
+you want."
+
+"A canal-boat?" I cried.
+
+"Yes," said he, "a canal-boat."
+
+"Furnished?" asked Euphemia, her eyes glistening.
+
+"Well, no," answered the doctor, "I don't think you could expect
+that."
+
+"But we can't live on the bare floor," said Euphemia; "our house
+MUST be furnished."
+
+"Well, then, I suppose this won't do," said the doctor, ruefully,
+"for there isn't so much as a boot-jack in it.  It has most things
+that are necessary for a boat, but it hasn't anything that you
+could call house-furniture; but, dear me, I should think you could
+furnish it very cheaply and comfortably out of your book."
+
+"Very true," said Euphemia, "if we could pick out the cheapest
+things and then get some folks to buy a lot of the books."
+
+"We could begin with very little," said I, trying hard to keep
+calm.
+
+"Certainly," said the doctor, "you need make no more rooms, at
+first, than you could furnish."
+
+"Then there are no rooms," said Euphemia.
+
+"No, there is nothing but one vast apartment extending from stem to
+stern."
+
+"Won't it be glorious!" said Euphemia to me.  "We can first make a
+kitchen, and then a dining-room, and a bedroom, and then a parlor--
+just in the order in which our book says they ought to be
+furnished."
+
+"Glorious!" I cried, no longer able to contain my enthusiasm; "I
+should think so.  Doctor, where is this canal-boat?"
+
+The doctor then went into a detailed statement.  The boat was
+stranded on the shore of the Scoldsbury river not far below Ginx's.
+We knew where Ginx's was, because we had spent a very happy day
+there, during our honeymoon.
+
+The boat was a good one, but superannuated.  That, however, did not
+interfere with its usefulness as a dwelling.  We could get it--the
+doctor had seen the owner--for a small sum per annum, and here was
+positively no end to its capabilities.
+
+We sat up until twenty minutes past two, talking about that house.
+We ceased to call it a boat at about a quarter of eleven.
+
+The next day I "took" the boat and paid a month's rent in advance.
+Three days afterward we moved into it.
+
+We had not much to move, which was a comfort, looking at it from
+one point of view.  A carpenter had put up two partitions in it
+which made three rooms--a kitchen, a dining-room and a very long
+bedroom, which was to be cut up into a parlor, study, spare-room,
+etc., as soon as circumstances should allow, or my salary should be
+raised.  Originally, all the doors and windows were in the roof, so
+to speak, but our landlord allowed us to make as many windows to
+the side of the boat as we pleased, provided we gave him the wood
+we cut out.  It saved him trouble, he said, but I did not
+understand him at the time.  Accordingly, the carpenter made
+several windows for us, and put in sashes, which opened on hinges
+like the hasp of a trunk.  Our furniture did not amount to much, at
+first.  The very thought of living in this independent, romantic
+way was so delightful, Euphemia said, that furniture seemed a mere
+secondary matter.
+
+We were obliged indeed to give up the idea of following the plan
+detailed in our book, because we hadn't the sum upon which the
+furnishing of a small house was therein based.
+
+"And if we haven't the money," remarked Euphemia, "it would be of
+no earthly use to look at the book.  It would only make us doubt
+our own calculations.  You might as well try to make brick without
+mortar, as the children of Israel did."
+
+"I could do that myself, my dear," said I, "but we won't discuss
+that subject now.  We will buy just what we absolutely need, and
+then work up from that."
+
+Acting on this plan, we bought first a small stove, because
+Euphemia said that we could sleep on the floor, if it were
+necessary, but we couldn't make a fire on the floor--at least not
+often.  Then we got a table and two chairs.  The next thing we
+purchased was some hanging shelves for our books, and Euphemia
+suddenly remembered the kitchen things.  These, which were few,
+with some crockery, nearly brought us to the end of our resources,
+but we had enough for a big easy-chair which Euphemia was
+determined I should have, because I really needed it when I came
+home at night, tired with my long day's work at the office.  I had
+always been used to an easy-chair, and it was one of her most
+delightful dreams to see me in a real nice one, comfortably smoking
+my pipe in my own house, after eating my own delicious little
+supper in company with my own dear wife.  We selected the chair,
+and then we were about to order the things sent out to our future
+home, when I happened to think that we had no bed.  I called
+Euphemia's attention to the fact.
+
+She was thunderstruck.
+
+"I never thought of that," she said.  "We shall have to give up the
+stove."
+
+"Not at all," said I, "we can't do that.  We must give up the easy-
+chair."
+
+"Oh, that would be too bad," said she.  "The house would seem like
+nothing to me without the chair!"
+
+"But we must do without it, my dear," said I, "at least for a
+while.  I can sit out on deck and smoke of an evening, you know."
+
+"Yes," said Euphemia.  "You can sit on the bulwarks and I can sit
+by you.  That will do very well.  I'm sure I'm glad the boat has
+bulwarks."
+
+So we resigned the easy-chair and bought a bedstead and some very
+plain bedding.  The bedstead was what is sometimes called a
+"scissors-bed."  We could shut it up when we did not want to sleep
+in it, and stand it against the wall.
+
+When we packed up our trunks and left the boarding-house Euphemia
+fairly skipped with joy.
+
+We went down to Ginx's in the first boat, having arranged that our
+furniture should be sent to us in the afternoon.  We wanted to be
+there to receive it.  The trip was just wildly delirious.  The air
+was charming.  The sun was bright, and I had a whole holiday.  When
+we reached Ginx's we found that the best way to get our trunks and
+ourselves to our house was to take a carriage, and so we took one.
+I told the driver to drive along the river road and I would tell
+him where to stop.
+
+When we reached our boat, and had alighted, I said to the driver:
+
+"You can just put our trunks inside, anywhere."
+
+The man looked at the trunks and then looked at the boat.
+Afterward he looked at me.
+
+"That boat ain't goin' anywhere," said he.
+
+"I should think not," said Euphemia.  "We shouldn't want to live in
+it, if it were."
+
+"You are going to live in it?" said the man.
+
+"Yes," said Euphemia.
+
+"Oh!" said the man, and he took our trunks on board, without
+another word.
+
+It was not very easy for him to get the trunks into our new home.
+In fact it was not easy for us to get there ourselves.  There was a
+gang-plank, with a rail on one side of it, which inclined from the
+shore to the deck of the boat at an angle of forty-five degrees,
+and when the man had staggered up this plank with the trunks
+(Euphemia said I ought to have helped him, but I really thought
+that it would be better for one person to fall off the plank than
+for two to go over together), and we had paid him, and he had
+driven away in a speechless condition, we scrambled up and stood
+upon the threshold, or, rather, the after-deck of our home.
+
+It was a proud moment.  Euphemia glanced around, her eyes full of
+happy tears, and then she took my arm and we went down stairs--at
+least we tried to go down in that fashion, but soon found it
+necessary to go one at a time.  We wandered over the whole extent
+of our mansion and found that our carpenter had done his work
+better than the woman whom we had engaged to scrub and clean the
+house.  Something akin to despair must have seized upon her, for
+Euphemia declared that the floors looked dirtier than on the
+occasion of her first visit, when we rented the boat.
+
+But that didn't discourage us.  We felt sure that we should get it
+clean in time.
+
+Early in the afternoon our furniture arrived, together with the
+other things we had bought, and the men who brought them over from
+the steamboat landing had the brightest, merriest faces I ever
+noticed among that class of people.  Euphemia said it was an
+excellent omen to have such cheerful fellows come to us on the very
+first day of our housekeeping.
+
+Then we went to work.  I put up the stove, which was not much
+trouble, as there was a place all ready in the deck for the stove-
+pipe to be run through.  Euphemia was somewhat surprised at the
+absence of a chimney, but I assured her that boats were very seldom
+built with chimneys.  My dear little wife bustled about and
+arranged the pots and kettles on nails that I drove into the
+kitchen walls.  Then she made the bed in the bed-room and I hung up
+a looking-glass and a few little pictures that we had brought in
+our trunks.
+
+Before four o'clock our house was in order.  Then we began to be
+very hungry.
+
+"My dear," said Euphemia, "we ought to have thought to bring
+something to cook."
+
+"That is very true," said I, "but I think perhaps we had better
+walk up to Ginx's and get our supper to-night.  You see we are so
+tired and hungry."
+
+"What!" cried Euphemia, "go to a hotel the very first day?  I think
+it would be dreadful!  Why, I have been looking forward to this
+first meal with the greatest delight.  You can go up to the little
+store by the hotel and buy some things and I will cook them, and we
+will have our first dear little meal here all alone by ourselves,
+at our own table and in our own house."
+
+So this was determined upon and, after a hasty counting of the fund
+I had reserved for moving and kindred expenses, and which had been
+sorely depleted during the day, I set out, and in about an hour
+returned with my first marketing.
+
+I made a fire, using a lot of chips and blocks the carpenter had
+left, and Euphemia cooked the supper, and we ate it from our little
+table, with two large towels for a table-cloth.
+
+It was the most delightful meal I ever ate!
+
+And, when we had finished, Euphemia washed the dishes (the
+thoughtful creature had put some water on the stove to heat for the
+purpose, while we were at supper) and then we went on deck, or on
+the piazza, as Euphemia thought we had better call it, and there we
+had our smoke.  I say WE, for Euphemia always helps me to smoke by
+sitting by me, and she seems to enjoy it as much as I do.
+
+And when the shades of evening began to gather around us, I hauled
+in the gang-plank (just like a delightful old draw-bridge, Euphemia
+said, although I hope for the sake of our ancestors that draw-
+bridges were easier to haul in) and went to bed.
+
+It is lucky we were tired and wanted to go to bed early, for we had
+forgotten all about lamps or candles.
+
+For the next week we were two busy and happy people.  I rose about
+half-past five and made the fire,--we found so much wood on the
+shore, that I thought I should not have to add fuel to my
+expenses,--and Euphemia cooked the breakfast.  I then went to a
+well belonging to a cottage near by where we had arranged for
+water-privileges, and filled two buckets with delicious water and
+carried them home for Euphemia's use through the day.  Then I
+hurried off to catch the train, for, as there was a station near
+Ginx's, I ceased to patronize the steamboat, the hours of which
+were not convenient.  After a day of work and pleasurable
+anticipation at the office, I hastened back to my home, generally
+laden with a basket of provisions and various household
+necessities.  Milk was brought to us daily from the above-mentioned
+cottage by a little toddler who seemed just able to carry the small
+tin bucket which held a lacteal pint.  If the urchin had been the
+child of rich parents, as Euphemia sometimes observed, he would
+have been in his nurse's arms--but being poor, he was scarcely
+weaned before he began to carry milk around to other people.
+
+After I reached home came supper and the delightful evening hours,
+when over my pipe (I had given up cigars, as being too expensive
+and inappropriate, and had taken to a tall pipe and canaster
+tobacco) we talked and planned, and told each other our day's
+experience.
+
+One of our earliest subjects of discussion was the name of our
+homestead.  Euphemia insisted that it should have a name.  I was
+quite willing, but we found it no easy matter to select an
+appropriate title.  I proposed a number of appellations intended to
+suggest the character of our home.  Among these were: "Safe
+Ashore," "Firmly Grounded," and some other names of that style, but
+Euphemia did not fancy any of them.  She wanted a suitable name, of
+course, she said, but it must be something that would SOUND like a
+house and BE like a boat.
+
+"Partitionville," she objected to, and "Gangplank Terrace," did not
+suit her because it suggested convicts going out to work, which
+naturally was unpleasant.
+
+At last, after days of talk and cogitation, we named our house
+"Rudder Grange."
+
+To be sure, it wasn't exactly a grange, but then it had such an
+enormous rudder that the justice of that part of the title seemed
+to over-balance any little inaccuracy in the other portion.
+
+But we did not spend all our spare time in talking.  An hour or
+two, every evening was occupied in what we called "fixing the
+house," and gradually the inside of our abode began to look like a
+conventional dwelling.  We put matting on the floors and cheap but
+very pretty paper on the walls.  We added now a couple of chairs,
+and now a table or something for the kitchen.  Frequently,
+especially of a Sunday, we had company, and our guests were always
+charmed with Euphemia's cunning little meals.  The dear girl loved
+good eating so much that she could scarcely fail to be a good cook.
+
+We worked hard, and were very happy.  And thus the weeks passed on.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+TREATING OF A NOVEL STYLE OF BOARDER.
+
+
+In this delightful way of living, only one thing troubled us.  We
+didn't save any money.  There were so many little things that we
+wanted, and so many little things that were so cheap, that I spent
+pretty much all I made, and that was far from the philosophical
+plan of living that I wished to follow.
+
+We talked this matter over a great deal after we had lived in our
+new home for about a month, and we came at last to the conclusion
+that we would take a boarder.
+
+We had no trouble in getting a boarder, for we had a friend, a
+young man who was engaged in the flour business, who was very
+anxious to come and live with us.  He had been to see us two or
+three times, and had expressed himself charmed with our household
+arrangements.
+
+So we made terms with him.  The carpenter partitioned off another
+room, and our boarder brought his trunk and a large red velvet arm-
+chair, and took up his abode at "Rudder Grange."
+
+We liked our boarder very much, but he had some peculiarities.  I
+suppose everybody has them.  Among other things, he was very fond
+of telling us what we ought to do.  He suggested more improvements
+in the first three days of his sojourn with us than I had thought
+of since we commenced housekeeping.  And what made the matter
+worse, his suggestions were generally very good ones.  Had it been
+otherwise I might have borne his remarks more complacently, but to
+be continually told what you ought to do, and to know that you
+ought to do it, is extremely annoying.
+
+He was very anxious that I should take off the rudder, which was
+certainly useless to a boat situated as ours was, and make an
+ironing-table of it.  I persisted that the laws of symmetrical
+propriety required that the rudder should remain where it was--that
+the very name of our home would be interfered with by its removal,
+but he insisted that "Ironing-table Grange" would be just as good a
+name, and that symmetrical propriety in such a case did not amount
+to a row of pins.
+
+The result was, that we did have the ironing-table, and that
+Euphemia was very much pleased with it.  A great many other
+improvements were projected and carried out by him, and I was very
+much worried.  He made a flower-garden for Euphemia on the extreme
+forward-deck, and having borrowed a wheelbarrow, he wheeled dozens
+of loads of arable dirt up our gang-plank and dumped them out on
+the deck.  When he had covered the garden with a suitable depth of
+earth, he smoothed it off and then planted flower-seeds.  It was
+rather late in the season, but most of them came up.  I was pleased
+with the garden, but sorry I had not made it myself.
+
+One afternoon I got away from the office considerably earlier than
+usual, and I hurried home to enjoy the short period of daylight
+that I should have before supper.  It had been raining the day
+before, and as the bottom of our garden leaked so that earthy water
+trickled down at one end of our bed-room, I intended to devote a
+short time to stuffing up the cracks in the ceiling or bottom of
+the deck--whichever seems the most appropriate.
+
+But when I reached a bend in the river road, whence I always had
+the earliest view of my establishment, I did not have that view.  I
+hurried on.  The nearer I approached the place where I lived, the
+more horror-stricken I became.  There was no mistaking the fact.
+
+The boat was not there!
+
+In an instant the truth flashed upon me.
+
+The water was very high--the rain had swollen the river--my house
+had floated away!
+
+It was Wednesday.  On Wednesday afternoons our boarder came home
+early.
+
+I clapped my hat tightly on my head and ground my teeth.
+
+"Confound that boarder!" I thought.  "He has been fooling with the
+anchor.  He always said it was of no use, and taking advantage of
+my absence, he has hauled it up, and has floated away, and has
+gone--gone with my wife and my home!"
+
+Euphemia and "Rudder Grange" had gone off together--where I knew
+not,--and with them that horrible suggester!
+
+I ran wildly along the bank.  I called aloud, I shouted and hailed
+each passing craft--of which there were only two--but their crews
+must have been very inattentive to the woes of landsmen, or else
+they did not hear me, for they paid no attention to my cries.
+
+I met a fellow with an axe on his shoulder.  I shouted to him
+before I reached him:
+
+"Hello! did you see a boat--a house, I mean,--floating up the
+river?"
+
+"A boat-house?" asked the man.
+
+"No, a house-boat," I gasped.
+
+"Didn't see nuthin' like it," said the man, and he passed on, to
+his wife and home, no doubt.  But me!  Oh, where was my wife and my
+home?
+
+I met several people, but none of them had seen a fugitive canal-
+boat.
+
+How many thoughts came into my brain as I ran along that river
+road!  If that wretched boarder had not taken the rudder for an
+ironing table he might have steered in shore!  Again and again I
+confounded--as far as mental ejaculations could do it--his
+suggestions.
+
+I was rapidly becoming frantic when I met a person who hailed me.
+
+"Hello!" he said, "are you after a canal-boat adrift?"
+
+"Yes," I panted.
+
+"I thought you was," he said.  "You looked that way.  Well, I can
+tell you where she is.  She's stuck fast in the reeds at the lower
+end o' Peter's Pint."
+
+"Where's that?" said I.
+
+"Oh, it's about a mile furder up.  I seed her a-driftin' up with
+the tide--big flood tide, to-day--and I thought I'd see somebody
+after her, afore long.  Anything aboard?"
+
+Anything!
+
+I could not answer the man.  Anything, indeed!  I hurried on up the
+river without a word.  Was the boat a wreck?  I scarcely dared to
+think of it.  I scarcely dared to think at all.
+
+The man called after me and I stopped.  I could but stop, no matter
+what I might hear.
+
+"Hello, mister," he said, "got any tobacco?"
+
+I walked up to him.  I took hold of him by the lapel of his coat.
+It was a dirty lapel, as I remember even now, but I didn't mind
+that.
+
+"Look here," said I.  "Tell me the truth, I can bear it.  Was that
+vessel wrecked?"
+
+The man looked at me a little queerly.  I could not exactly
+interpret his expression.
+
+"You're sure you kin bear it?" said he.
+
+"Yes," said I, my hand trembling as I held his coat.
+
+"Well, then," said he, "it's mor'n I kin," and he jerked his coat
+out of my hand, and sprang away.  When he reached the other side of
+the road, he turned and shouted at me, as though I had been deaf.
+
+"Do you know what I think?" he yelled.  "I think you're a darned
+lunatic," and with that he went his way.
+
+I hastened on to Peter's Point.  Long before I reached it, I saw
+the boat.
+
+It was apparently deserted.  But still I pressed on.  I must know
+the worst.  When I reached the Point, I found that the boat had run
+aground, with her head in among the long reeds and mud, and the
+rest of her hull lying at an angle from the shore.
+
+There was consequently no way for me to get on board, but to wade
+through the mud and reeds to her bow, and then climb up as well as
+I could.
+
+This I did, but it was not easy to do.  Twice I sank above my knees
+in mud and water, and had it not been for reeds, masses of which I
+frequently clutched when I thought I was going over, I believe I
+should have fallen down and come to my death in that horrible
+marsh.  When I reached the boat, I stood up to my hips in water and
+saw no way of climbing up.  The gang-plank had undoubtedly floated
+away, and if it had not, it would have been of no use to me in my
+position.
+
+But I was desperate.  I clasped the post that they put in the bow
+of canal-boats; I stuck my toes and my finger-nails in the cracks
+between the boards--how glad I was that the boat was an old one and
+had cracks!--and so, painfully and slowly, slipping part way down
+once or twice, and besliming myself from chin to foot, I climbed up
+that post and scrambled upon deck.  In an instant, I reached the
+top of the stairs, and in another instant I rushed below.
+
+There sat my wife and our boarder, one on each side of the dining-
+room table, complacently playing checkers!
+
+My sudden entrance startled them.  My appearance startled them
+still more.
+
+Euphemia sprang to her feet and tottered toward me.
+
+"Mercy!" she exclaimed; "has anything happened?"
+
+"Happened!" I gasped.
+
+"Look here," cried the boarder, clutching me by the arm, "what a
+condition you're in.  Did you fall in?"
+
+"Fall in!" said I.
+
+Euphemia and the boarder looked at each other.  I looked at them.
+Then I opened my mouth in earnest.
+
+"I suppose you don't know," I yelled, "that you have drifted away!"
+
+"By George!" cried the boarder, and in two bounds he was on deck.
+
+Dirty as I was, Euphemia fell into my arms.  I told her all.  She
+hadn't known a bit of it!
+
+The boat had so gently drifted off, and had so gently grounded
+among the reeds, that the voyage had never so much as disturbed
+their games of checkers.
+
+"He plays such a splendid game," Euphemia sobbed, "and just as you
+came, I thought I was going to beat him.  I had two kings and two
+pieces on the next to last row, and you are nearly drowned.  You'll
+get your death of cold--and--and he had only one king."
+
+She led me away and I undressed and washed myself and put on my
+Sunday clothes.
+
+When I reappeared I went out on deck with Euphemia.  The boarder
+was there, standing by the petunia bed.  His arms were folded and
+he was thinking profoundly.  As we approached, he turned toward us.
+
+"You were right about that anchor," he said, "I should not have
+hauled it in; but it was such a little anchor that I thought it
+would be of more use on board as a garden hoe."
+
+"A very little anchor will sometimes do very well," said I,
+cuttingly, "when it is hooked around a tree."
+
+"Yes, there is something in that," said he.
+
+It was now growing late, and as our agitation subsided we began to
+be hungry.  Fortunately, we had everything necessary on board, and,
+as it really didn't make any difference in our household economy,
+where we happened to be located, we had supper quite as usual.  In
+fact, the kettle had been put on to boil during the checker-
+playing.
+
+After supper, we went on deck to smoke, as was our custom, but
+there was a certain coolness between me and our boarder.
+
+Early the next morning I arose and went upstairs to consider what
+had better be done, when I saw the boarder standing on shore, near
+by.
+
+"Hello!" he cried, "the tide's down and I got ashore without any
+trouble.  You stay where you are.  I've hired a couple of mules to
+tow the boat back.  They'll be here when the tide rises.  And,
+hello!  I've found the gang-plank.  It floated ashore about a
+quarter of a mile below here."
+
+In the course of the afternoon the mules and two men with a long
+rope appeared, and we were then towed back to where we belonged.
+
+And we are there yet.  Our boarder remains with us, as the weather
+is still fine, and the coolness between us is gradually
+diminishing.  But the boat is moored at both ends, and twice a day
+I look to see if the ropes are all right.
+
+The petunias are growing beautifully, but the geraniums do not seem
+to flourish.  Perhaps there is not a sufficient depth of earth for
+them.  Several times our boarder has appeared to be on the point of
+suggesting something in regard to them, but, for some reason or
+other, he says nothing.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+TREATING OF A NOVEL STYLE OF GIRL.
+
+
+One afternoon, as I was hurrying down Broadway to catch the five
+o'clock train, I met Waterford.  He is an old friend of mine, and I
+used to like him pretty well.
+
+"Hello!" said he, "where are you going?"
+
+"Home," I answered.
+
+"Is that so?" said he.  "I didn't know you had one."
+
+I was a little nettled at this, and so I said, somewhat brusquely
+perhaps:
+
+"But you must have known I lived somewhere."
+
+"Oh, yes!  But I thought you boarded," said he.  "I had no idea
+that you had a home."
+
+"But I have one, and a very pleasant home, too.  You must excuse me
+for not stopping longer, as I must catch my train."
+
+"Oh! I'll walk along with you," said Waterford, and so we went down
+the street together.
+
+"Where is your little house?" he asked.
+
+Why in the world he thought it was a little house I could not at
+the time imagine, unless he supposed that two people would not
+require a large one.  But I know, now, that he lived in a very
+little house himself.
+
+But it was of no use getting angry with Waterford, especially as I
+saw he intended walking all the way down to the ferry with me, so I
+told him I didn't live in any house at all.
+
+"Why, where DO you live?" he exclaimed, stopping short.
+
+"I live in a boat," said I.
+
+"A boat!  A sort of 'Rob Roy' arrangement, I suppose.  Well, I
+would not have thought that of you.  And your wife, I suppose, has
+gone home to her people?"
+
+"She has done nothing of the kind," I answered.  "She lives with
+me, and she likes it very much.  We are extremely comfortable, and
+our boat is not a canoe, or any such nonsensical affair.  It is a
+large, commodious canal-boat."
+
+Waterford turned around and looked at me.
+
+"Are you a deck-hand?" he asked.
+
+"Deck-grandmother!" I exclaimed.
+
+"Well, you needn't get mad about it," he said.  "I didn't mean to
+hurt your feelings; but I couldn't see what else you could be on a
+canal-boat.  I don't suppose, for instance, that you're captain."
+
+"But I am," said I.
+
+"Look here!" said Waterford; "this is coming it rather strong,
+isn't it?"
+
+As I saw he was getting angry, I told him all about it,--told him
+how we had hired a stranded canal-boat and had fitted it up as a
+house, and how we lived so cosily in it, and had called it "Rudder
+Grange," and how we had taken a boarder.
+
+"Well!" said he, "this is certainly surprising.  I'm coming out to
+see you some day.  It will be better than going to Barnum's."
+
+I told him--it is the way of society--that we would be glad to see
+him, and we parted.  Waterford never did come to see us, and I
+merely mention this incident to show how some of our friends talked
+about Rudder Grange, when they first heard that we lived there.
+
+After dinner that evening, when I went up on deck with Euphemia to
+have my smoke, we saw the boarder sitting on the bulwarks near the
+garden, with his legs dangling down outside.
+
+"Look here!" said he.
+
+I looked, but there was nothing unusual to see.
+
+"What is it?" I asked.
+
+He turned around and seeing Euphemia, said:
+
+"Nothing."
+
+It would be a very stupid person who could not take such a hint as
+that, and so, after a walk around the garden, Euphemia took
+occasion to go below to look at the kitchen fire.
+
+As soon as she had gone, the boarder turned to me and said:
+
+"I'll tell you what it is.  She's working herself sick."
+
+"Sick?" said I.  "Nonsense!"
+
+"No nonsense about it," he replied.
+
+The truth was, that the boarder was right and I was wrong.  We had
+spent several months at Rudder Grange, and during this time
+Euphemia had been working very hard, and she really did begin to
+look pale and thin.  Indeed, it would be very wearying for any
+woman of culture and refinement, unused to house-work, to cook and
+care for two men, and to do all the work of a canal-boat besides.
+
+But I saw Euphemia so constantly, and thought so much of her, and
+had her image so continually in my heart, that I did not notice
+this until our boarder now called my attention to it.  I was sorry
+that he had to do it.
+
+"If I were in your place," said he, "I would get her a servant."
+
+"If you were in my place," I replied, somewhat cuttingly, "you
+would probably suggest a lot of little things which would make
+everything very easy for her."
+
+"I'd try to," he answered, without getting in the least angry.
+
+Although I felt annoyed that he had suggested it, still I made up
+my mind that Euphemia must have a servant.
+
+She agreed quite readily when I proposed the plan, and she urged me
+to go and see the carpenter that very day, and get him to come and
+partition off a little room for the girl.
+
+It was some time, of course, before the room was made (for who ever
+heard of a carpenter coming at the very time he was wanted?) and,
+when it was finished, Euphemia occupied all her spare moments in
+getting it in nice order for the servant when she should come.  I
+thought she was taking too much trouble, but she had her own ideas
+about such things.
+
+"If a girl is lodged like a pig, you must expect her to behave like
+a pig, and I don't want that kind."
+
+So she put up pretty curtains at the girl's window, and with a box
+that she stood on end, and some old muslin and a lot of tacks, she
+made a toilet-table so neat and convenient that I thought she ought
+to take it into our room and give the servant our wash-stand.
+
+But all this time we had no girl, and as I had made up my mind
+about the matter, I naturally grew impatient, and at last I
+determined to go and get a girl myself.
+
+So, one day at lunch-time, I went to an intelligence office in the
+city.  There I found a large room on the second floor, and some
+ladies, and one or two men, sitting about, and a small room, back
+of it, crowded with girls from eighteen to sixty-eight years old.
+There were also girls upon the stairs, and girls in the hall below,
+besides some girls standing on the sidewalk before the door.
+
+When I made known my business and had paid my fee, one of the
+several proprietors who were wandering about the front room went
+into the back apartment and soon returned with a tall Irishwoman
+with a bony weather-beaten face and a large weather-beaten shawl.
+This woman was told to take a chair by my side.  Down sat the huge
+creature and stared at me.  I did not feel very easy under her
+scrutinizing gaze, but I bore it as best I could, and immediately
+began to ask her all the appropriate questions that I could think
+of.  Some she answered satisfactorily, and some she didn't answer
+at all; but as soon as I made a pause, she began to put questions
+herself.
+
+"How many servants do you kape?" she asked.
+
+I answered that we intended to get along with one, and if she
+understood her business, I thought she would find her work very
+easy, and the place a good one.
+
+She turned sharp upon me and said:
+
+"Have ye stationary wash-tubs?"
+
+I hesitated.  I knew our wash-tubs were not stationary, for I had
+helped to carry them about.  But they might be screwed fast and
+made stationary if that was an important object.  But, before
+making this answer, I thought of the great conveniences for washing
+presented by our residence, surrounded as it was, at high tide, by
+water.
+
+"Why, we live in a stationary wash-tub," I said, smiling.
+
+The woman looked at me steadfastly for a minute, and then she rose
+to her feet.  Then she called out, as if she were crying fish or
+strawberries:
+
+"Mrs. Blaine!"
+
+The female keeper of the intelligence office, and the male keeper,
+and a thin clerk, and all the women in the back room, and all the
+patrons in the front room, jumped up and gathered around us.
+
+Astonished and somewhat disconcerted, I rose to my feet and
+confronted the tall Irishwoman, and stood smiling in an uncertain
+sort of a way, as if it were all very funny; but I couldn't see the
+point.  I think I must have impressed the people with the idea that
+I wished I hadn't come.
+
+"He says," exclaimed the woman, as if some other huckster were
+crying fish on the other side of the street--"he says he lives in a
+wash-toob."
+
+"He's crazy!" ejaculated Mrs. Blaine, with an air that indicated
+"policeman" as plainly as if she had put her thought into words.
+
+A low murmur ran through the crowd of women, while the thin clerk
+edged toward the door.
+
+I saw there was no time to lose.  I stepped back a little from the
+tall savage, who was breathing like a hot-air engine in front of
+me, and made my explanations to the company.  I told the tale of
+"Rudder Grange," and showed them how it was like to a stationary
+wash-tub--at certain stages of the tide.
+
+I was listened to with great attention.  When I had finished, the
+tall woman turned around and faced the assemblage.
+
+"An' he wants a cook to make soup!  In a canal-boat!" said she, and
+off she marched into the back-room, followed closely by all the
+other women.
+
+"I don't think we have any one here who would suit you," said Mrs.
+Blaine.
+
+I didn't think so either.  What on earth would Euphemia have done
+with that volcanic Irishwoman in her little kitchen!  I took up my
+hat and bade Mrs. Blaine good morning.
+
+"Good morning," said she, with a distressing smile.
+
+She had one of those mouths that look exactly like a gash in the
+face.
+
+I went home without a girl.  In a day or two Euphemia came to town
+and got one.  Apparently she got her without any trouble, but I am
+not sure.
+
+She went to a "Home"--Saint Somebody's Home--a place where they
+keep orphans to let, so to speak.  Here Euphemia selected a light-
+haired, medium-sized orphan, and brought her home.
+
+The girl's name was Pomona.  Whether or not her parents gave her
+this name is doubtful.  At any rate, she did not seem quite decided
+in her mind about it herself, for she had not been with us more
+than two weeks before she expressed a desire to be called Clare.
+This longing of her heart, however, was denied her.  So Euphemia,
+who was always correct, called her Pomona.  I did the same whenever
+I could think not to say Bologna--which seemed to come very pat for
+some reason or other.
+
+As for the boarder, he generally called her Altoona, connecting her
+in some way with the process of stopping for refreshments, in which
+she was an adept.
+
+She was an earnest, hearty girl.  She was always in a good humor,
+and when I asked her to do anything, she assented in a bright,
+cheerful way, and in a loud tone full of good-fellowship, as though
+she would say:
+
+"Certainly, my high old cock!  To be sure I will.  Don't worry
+about it--give your mind no more uneasiness on that subject.  I'll
+bring the hot water."
+
+She did not know very much, but she was delighted to learn, and she
+was very strong.  Whatever Euphemia told her to do, she did
+instantly with a bang.  What pleased her better than anything else
+was to run up and down the gang-plank, carrying buckets of water to
+water the garden.  She delighted in out-door work, and sometimes
+dug so vigorously in our garden that she brought up pieces of the
+deck-planking with every shovelful.
+
+Our boarder took the greatest interest in her, and sometimes
+watched her movements so intently that he let his pipe go out.
+
+"What a whacking girl that would be to tread out grapes in the
+vineyards of Italy!  She'd make wine cheap," he once remarked.
+
+"Then I'm glad she isn't there," said Euphemia, "for wine oughtn't
+to be cheap."
+
+Euphemia was a thorough little temperance woman.
+
+The one thing about Pomona that troubled me more than anything else
+was her taste for literature.  It was not literature to which I
+objected, but her very peculiar taste.  She would read in the
+kitchen every night after she had washed the dishes, but if she had
+not read aloud, it would not have made so much difference to me.
+But I am naturally very sensitive to external impressions, and I do
+not like the company of people who, like our girl, cannot read
+without pronouncing in a measured and distinct voice every word of
+what they are reading.  And when the matter thus read appeals to
+one's every sentiment of aversion, and there is no way of escaping
+it, the case is hard indeed.
+
+From the first, I felt inclined to order Pomona, if she could not
+attain the power of silent perusal, to cease from reading
+altogether; but Euphemia would not hear to this.
+
+"Poor thing!" said she; "it would be cruel to take from her her
+only recreation.  And she says she can't read any other way.  You
+needn't listen if you don't want to."
+
+That was all very well in an abstract point of view; but the fact
+was, that in practice, the more I didn't want to listen, the more I
+heard.
+
+As the evenings were often cool, we sat in our dining-room, and the
+partition between this room and the kitchen seemed to have no
+influence whatever in arresting sound.  So that when I was trying
+to read or to reflect, it was by no means exhilarating to my mind
+to hear from the next room that:
+
+"The la dy ce sel i a now si zed the weep on and all though the
+boor ly vil ly an re tain ed his vy gor ous hold she drew the blade
+through his fin gers and hoorl ed it far be hind her dryp ping with
+jore."
+
+This sort of thing, kept up for an hour or so at a time, used to
+drive me nearly wild.  But Euphemia did not mind it.  I believe
+that she had so delicate a sense of what was proper, that she did
+not hear Pomona's private readings.
+
+On one occasion, even Euphemia's influence could scarcely restrain
+me from violent interference.
+
+It was our boarder's night out (when he was detained in town by his
+business), and Pomona was sitting up to let him in.  This was
+necessary, for our front-door (or main-hatchway) had no night-
+latch, but was fastened by means of a bolt.  Euphemia and I used to
+sit up for him, but that was earlier in the season, when it was
+pleasant to be out on deck until quite a late hour.  But Pomona
+never objected to sitting (or getting) up late, and so we allowed
+this weekly duty to devolve on her.
+
+On this particular night I was very tired and sleepy, and soon
+after I got into bed I dropped into a delightful slumber.  But it
+was not long before I was awakened by the fact that:
+
+"Sa rah did not fl inch but gras ped the heat ed i ron in her un in
+jur ed hand and when the ra bid an i mal a proach ed she thr ust
+the lur id po ker in his--"
+
+"My conscience!" said I to Euphemia, "can't that girl be stopped?"
+
+"You wouldn't have her sit there and do nothing, would you?" said
+she.
+
+"No; but she needn't read out that way."
+
+"She can't read any other way," said Euphemia, drowsily.
+
+"Yell af ter yell res oun ded as he wil dly spr rang--"
+
+"I can't stand that, and I won't," said I.  "Why don't she go into
+the kitchen?--the dining-room's no place for her."
+
+"She must not sit there," said Euphemia.  "There's a window-pane
+out.  Can't you cover up your head?"
+
+"I shall not be able to breathe if I do; but I suppose that's no
+matter," I replied.
+
+The reading continued.
+
+"Ha, ha!  Lord Mar mont thun der ed thou too shalt suf fer all that
+this poor--"
+
+I sprang out of bed.
+
+Euphemia thought I was going for my pistol, and she gave one bound
+and stuck her head out of the door.
+
+"Pomona, fly!" she cried.
+
+"Yes, sma'am," said Pomona; and she got up and flew--not very fast,
+I imagine.  Where she flew to I don't know, but she took the lamp
+with her, and I could hear distant syllables of agony and blood,
+until the boarder came home and Pomona went to bed.
+
+I think that this made an impression upon Euphemia, for, although
+she did not speak to me upon the subject (or any other) that night,
+the next time I heard Pomona reading, the words ran somewhat thus:
+
+"The as ton ish ing che ap ness of land is ac count ed for by the
+want of home mar kets, of good ro ads and che ap me ans of trans
+por ta ti on in ma ny sec ti ons of the State."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+TREATING OF A NOVEL STYLE OF BURGLAR.
+
+
+I have spoken of my pistol.  During the early part of our residence
+at Rudder Grange I never thought of such a thing as owning a
+pistol.
+
+But it was different now.  I kept a Colt's revolver loaded in the
+bureau drawer in our bedroom.
+
+The cause of this change was burglars.  Not that any of these
+unpleasant persons had visited us, but we much feared they would.
+Several houses in the vicinity had been entered during the past
+month, and we could never tell when our turn would come.
+
+To be sure, our boarder suggested that if we were to anchor out a
+little further at night, no burglar would risk catching his death
+of cold by swimming out to us; but Euphemia having replied that it
+would be rather difficult to move a canal-boat every night without
+paddle-wheels, or sails, or mules, especially if it were aground,
+this plan was considered to be effectually disposed of.
+
+So we made up our minds that we must fasten up everything very
+securely, and I bought a pistol and two burglar-alarms.  One of
+these I affixed to the most exposed window, and the other to the
+door which opened on the deck.  These alarms were very simple
+affairs, but they were good enough.  When they were properly
+attached to a window or door, and it was opened, a little gong
+sounded like a violently deranged clock, striking all the hours of
+the day at once.
+
+The window did not trouble us much, but it was rather irksome to
+have to make the attachment to the door every night and to take it
+off every morning.  However, as Euphemia said, it was better to
+take a little trouble than to have the house full of burglars,
+which was true enough.
+
+We made all the necessary arrangements in case burglars should make
+an inroad upon us.  At the first sound of the alarm, Euphemia and
+the girl were to lie flat on the floor or get under their beds.
+Then the boarder and I were to stand up, back to back, each with
+pistol in hand, and fire away, revolving on a common centre the
+while.  In this way, by aiming horizontally at about four feet from
+the floor, we could rake the premises, and run no risk of shooting
+each other or the women of the family.
+
+To be sure, there were some slight objections to this plan.  The
+boarder's room was at some distance from ours, and he would
+probably not hear the alarm, and the burglars might not be willing
+to wait while I went forward and roused him up, and brought him to
+our part of the house.  But this was a minor difficulty.  I had no
+doubt but that, if it should be necessary, I could manage to get
+our boarder into position in plenty of time.
+
+It was not very long before there was an opportunity of testing the
+plan.
+
+About twelve o'clock one night one of the alarms (that on the
+kitchen window) went off with a whirr and a wild succession of
+clangs.  For a moment I thought the morning train had arrived, and
+then I woke up.  Euphemia was already under the bed.
+
+I hurried on a few clothes, and then I tried to find the bureau in
+the dark.  This was not easy, as I lost my bearings entirely.  But
+I found it at last, got the top drawer open and took out my pistol.
+Then I slipped out of the room, hurried up the stairs, opened the
+door (setting off the alarm there, by the way), and ran along the
+deck (there was a cold night wind), and hastily descended the steep
+steps that led into the boarder's room.  The door that was at the
+bottom of the steps was not fastened, and, as I opened it, a little
+stray moonlight illumed the room.  I hastily stepped to the bed and
+shook the boarder by the shoulder.  He kept HIS pistol under his
+pillow.
+
+In an instant he was on his feet, his hand grasped my throat, and
+the cold muzzle of his Derringer pistol was at my forehead.  It was
+an awfully big muzzle, like the mouth of a bottle.
+
+I don't know when I lived so long as during the first minute that
+he held me thus.
+
+"Rascal!" he said.  "Do as much as breathe, and I'll pull the
+trigger."
+
+I didn't breathe.
+
+I had an accident insurance on my life.  Would it hold good in a
+case like this?  Or would Euphemia have to go back to her father?
+
+He pushed me back into the little patch of moonlight.
+
+"Oh! is it you?" he said, relaxing his grasp.  "What do you want?
+A mustard plaster?"
+
+He had a package of patent plasters in his room.  You took one and
+dipped it in hot water, and it was all ready.
+
+"No," said I, gasping a little.  "Burglars."
+
+"Oh!" he said, and he put down his pistol and put on his clothes.
+
+"Come along," he said, and away we went over the deck.
+
+When we reached the stairs all was dark and quiet below.
+
+It was a matter of hesitancy as to going down.
+
+I started to go down first, but the boarder held me back.
+
+"Let me go down," he said.
+
+"No," said I, "my wife is there."
+
+"That's the very reason you should not go," he said.  "She is safe
+enough yet, and they would fire only at a man.  It would be a bad
+job for her if you were killed.  I'll go down."
+
+So he went down, slowly and cautiously, his pistol in one hand, and
+his life in the other, as it were.
+
+When he reached the bottom of the steps I changed my mind.  I could
+not remain above while the burglar and Euphemia were below, so I
+followed.
+
+The boarder was standing in the middle of the dining-room, into
+which the stairs led.  I could not see him, but I put my hand
+against him as I was feeling my way across the floor.
+
+I whispered to him:
+
+"Shall we put our backs together and revolve and fire?"
+
+"No," he whispered back, "not now; he may be on a shelf by this
+time, or under a table.  Let's look him up."
+
+I confess that I was not very anxious to look him up, but I
+followed the boarder, as he slowly made his way toward the kitchen
+door.  As we opened the door we instinctively stopped.
+
+The window was open, and by the light of the moon that shone in, we
+saw the rascal standing on a chair, leaning out of the window,
+evidently just ready to escape.  Fortunately, we were unheard.
+
+"Let's pull him in," whispered the boarder.
+
+"No," I whispered in reply.  "We don't want him in.  Let's hoist
+him out."
+
+"All right," returned the boarder.
+
+We laid our pistols on the floor, and softly approached the window.
+Being barefooted, out steps were noiseless.
+
+"Hoist when I count three," breathed the boarder into my ear.
+
+We reached the chair.  Each of us took hold of two of its legs.
+
+"One--two--three!" said the boarder, and together we gave a
+tremendous lift and shot the wretch out of the window.
+
+The tide was high, and there was a good deal of water around the
+boat.  We heard a rousing splash outside.
+
+Now there was no need of silence.
+
+"Shall we run on deck and shoot him as he swims?" I cried.
+
+"No," said the boarder, "we'll get the boat-hook, and jab him if he
+tries to climb up."
+
+We rushed on deck.  I seized the boat-hook and looked over the
+side.  But I saw no one.
+
+"He's gone to the bottom!" I exclaimed.
+
+"He didn't go very far then," said the boarder, "for it's not more
+than two feet deep there."
+
+Just then our attention was attracted by a voice from the shore.
+
+"Will you please let down the gang-plank?"  We looked ashore, and
+there stood Pomona, dripping from every pore.
+
+We spoke no words, but lowered the gangplank.
+
+She came aboard.
+
+"Good night!" said the boarder, and he went to bed.
+
+"Pomona!" said I, "what have you been doing?"
+
+"I was a lookin' at the moon, sir, when pop! the chair bounced, and
+out I went."
+
+"You shouldn't do that," I said, sternly.
+
+"Some day you'll be drowned.  Take off your wet things and go to
+bed."
+
+"Yes, sma'am--sir, I mean," said she, as she went down-stairs.
+
+When I reached my room I lighted the lamp, and found Euphemia still
+under the bed.
+
+"Is it all right?" she asked.
+
+"Yes," I answered.  "There was no burglar.  Pomona fell out of the
+window."
+
+"Did you get her a plaster?" asked Euphemia, drowsily.
+
+"No, she did not need one.  She's all right now.  Were you worried
+about me, dear?"
+
+"No, I trusted in you entirely, and I think I dozed a little under
+the bed."
+
+In one minute she was asleep.
+
+The boarder and I did not make this matter a subject of
+conversation afterward, but Euphemia gave the girl a lecture on her
+careless ways, and made her take several Dover's powders the next
+day.
+
+An important fact in domestic economy was discovered about this
+time by Euphemia and myself.  Perhaps we were not the first to
+discover it, but we certainly did find it out,--and this fact was,
+that housekeeping costs money.  At the end of every week we counted
+up our expenditures--it was no trouble at all to count up our
+receipts--and every week the result was more unsatisfactory.
+
+"If we could only get rid of the disagreeable balance that has to
+be taken along all the time, and which gets bigger and bigger like
+a snow-ball, I think we would find the accounts more satisfactory,"
+said Euphemia.
+
+This was on a Saturday night.  We always got our pencils and paper
+and money at the end of the week.
+
+"Yes," said I, with an attempt to appear facetious and unconcerned,
+"but it would be all well enough if we could take that snow-ball to
+the fire and melt it down."
+
+"But there never is any fire where there are snow-balls," said
+Euphemia.
+
+"No," said I, "and that's just the trouble."
+
+It was on the following Thursday, when I came home in the evening,
+that Euphemia met me with a glowing face.  It rather surprised me
+to see her look so happy, for she had been very quiet and
+preoccupied for the first part of the week.  So much so, indeed,
+that I had thought of ordering smaller roasts for a week or two,
+and taking her to a Thomas Concert with the money saved.  But this
+evening she looked as if she did not need Thomas's orchestra.
+
+"What makes you so bright, my dear?" said I, when I had greeted
+her.  "Has anything jolly happened?"
+
+"No," said she; "nothing yet, but I am going to make a fire to melt
+snow-balls."
+
+Of course I was very anxious to know how she was going to do it,
+but she would not tell me.  It was a plan that she intended to keep
+to herself until she saw how it worked.  I did not press her,
+because she had so few secrets, and I did not hear anything about
+this plan until it had been carried out.
+
+Her scheme was as follows:  After thinking over our financial
+condition and puzzling her brain to find out some way of bettering
+it, she had come to the conclusion that she would make some money
+by her own exertions, to help defray our household expenses.  She
+never had made any money, but that was no reason why she should not
+begin.  It was too bad that I should have to toil and toil and not
+make nearly enough money after all.  So she would go to work and
+earn something with her own hands.
+
+She had heard of an establishment in the city, where ladies of
+limited means, or transiently impecunious, could, in a very quiet
+and private way, get sewing to do.  They could thus provide for
+their needs without any one but the officers of the institution
+knowing anything about it.
+
+So Euphemia went to this place, and she got some work.  It was not
+a very large bundle, but it was larger than she had been accustomed
+to carry, and, what was perfectly dreadful, it was wrapped up in a
+newspaper!  When Euphemia told me the story, she said that this was
+too much for her courage.  She could not go on the cars, and
+perhaps meet people belonging to our church, with a newspaper
+bundle under her arm.
+
+But her genius for expedients saved her from this humiliation.  She
+had to purchase some sewing-cotton, and some other little things,
+and when she had bought them, she handed her bundle to the woman
+behind the counter, and asked her if she would not be so good as to
+have that wrapped up with the other things.  It was a good deal to
+ask, she knew, and the woman smiled, for the articles she had
+bought would not make a package as large as her hand.  However, her
+request was complied with, and she took away a very decent package,
+with the card of the store stamped on the outside.  I suppose that
+there are not more than half a dozen people in this country who
+would refuse Euphemia anything that she would be willing to ask
+for.
+
+So she took the work home, and she labored faithfully at it for
+about a week, She did not suppose it would take her so long; but
+she was not used to such very plain sewing, and was much afraid
+that she would not do it neatly enough.  Besides this, she could
+only work on it in the daytime--when I was away--and was, of
+course, interrupted a great deal by her ordinary household duties,
+and the necessity of a careful oversight of Pomona's somewhat
+erratic methods of doing her work.
+
+But at last she finished the job and took it into the city.  She
+did not want to spend any more money on the trip than was
+absolutely necessary, and so was very glad to find that she had a
+remnant of pocket-money sufficient to pay her fare both ways.
+
+When she reached the city, she walked up to the place where her
+work was to be delivered, and found it much farther when she went
+on foot than it had seemed to her riding in the street cars.  She
+handed over her bundle to the proper person, and, as it was soon
+examined and approved, she received her pay therefor.
+
+It amounted to sixty cents.  She had made no bargain, but she was a
+little astonished.  However, she said nothing, but left the place
+without asking for any more work.  In fact she forgot all about it.
+She had an idea that everything was all wrong, and that idea
+engrossed her mind entirely.  There was no mistake about the sum
+paid, for the lady clerk had referred to the printed table of
+prices when she calculated the amount due.  But something was
+wrong, and, at the moment, Euphemia could not tell what it was.
+She left the place, and started to walk back to the ferry.  But she
+was so tired and weak, and hungry--it was now an hour or two past
+her regular luncheon time--that she thought she should faint if she
+did not go somewhere and get some refreshments.
+
+So, like a sensible little woman as she was, she went into a
+restaurant.  She sat down at a table, and a waiter came to her to
+see what she would have.  She was not accustomed to eating-houses,
+and perhaps this was the first time that she had ever visited one
+alone.  What she wanted was something simple.  So she ordered a cup
+of tea and some rolls, and a piece of chicken.  The meal was a very
+good one, and Euphemia enjoyed it.  When she had finished, she went
+up to the counter to settle.  Her bill was sixty cents.  She paid
+the money that she had just received, and walked down to the ferry-
+-all in a daze, she said.  When she got home she thought it over,
+and then she cried.
+
+After a while she dried her eyes, and when I came home she told me
+all about it.
+
+"I give it up," she said.  "I don't believe I can help you any."
+
+Poor little thing!  I took her in my arms and comforted her, and
+before bedtime I had convinced her that she was fully able to help
+me better than any one else on earth, and that without puzzling her
+brains about business, or wearing herself out by sewing for pay.
+
+So we went on in our old way, and by keeping our attention on our
+weekly balance, we prevented it from growing very rapidly.
+
+We fell back on our philosophy (it was all the capital we had), and
+became as calm and contented as circumstances allowed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+POMONA PRODUCES A PARTIAL REVOLUTION IN RUDDER GRANGE.
+
+
+Euphemia began to take a great deal of comfort in her girl.  Every
+evening she had some new instance to relate of Pomona's inventive
+abilities and aptness in adapting herself to the peculiarities of
+our method of housekeeping.
+
+"Only to think!" said she, one afternoon, "Pomona has just done
+another VERY smart thing.  You know what a trouble it has always
+been for us to carry all our waste water upstairs, and throw it
+over the bulwarks.  Well, she has remedied all that.  She has cut a
+nice little low window in the side of the kitchen, and has made a
+shutter of the piece she cut out, with leather hinges to it, and
+now she can just open this window, throw the water out, shut it
+again, and there it is!  I tell you she's smart."
+
+"Yes; there is no doubt of that," I said; "but I think that there
+is danger of her taking more interest in such extraordinary and
+novel duties than in the regular work of the house."
+
+"Now, don't discourage the girl, my dear," she said, "for she is of
+the greatest use to me, and I don't want you to be throwing cold
+water about like some people."
+
+"Not even if I throw it out of Pomona's little door, I suppose."
+
+"No.  Don't throw it at all.  Encourage people.  What would the
+world be if everybody chilled our aspirations and extraordinary
+efforts?  Like Fulton's steamboat."
+
+"All right," I said; "I'll not discourage her."
+
+It was now getting late in the season.  It was quite too cool to
+sit out on deck in the evening, and our garden began to look
+desolate.
+
+Our boarder had wheeled up a lot of fresh earth, and had prepared a
+large bed, in which he had planted turnips.  They made an excellent
+fall crop, he assured us.
+
+From being simply cool it began to be rainy, and the weather grew
+decidedly unpleasant.  But our boarder bade us take courage.  This
+was probably the "equinoctial," and when it was over there would be
+a delightful Indian summer, and the turnips would grow nicely.
+
+This sounded very well, but the wind blew up cold at night, and
+there was a great deal of unpleasant rain.
+
+One night it blew what Pomona called a "whirlicane," and we went to
+bed very early to keep warm.  We heard our boarder on deck in the
+garden after we were in bed, and Euphemia said she could not
+imagine what he was about, unless he was anchoring his turnips to
+keep them from blowing away.
+
+During the night I had a dream.  I thought I was a boy again, and
+was trying to stand upon my head, a feat for which I had been
+famous.  But instead of throwing myself forward on my hands, and
+then raising my heels backward over my head, in the orthodox
+manner, I was on my back, and trying to get on my head from that
+position.  I awoke suddenly, and found that the footboard of the
+bedstead was much higher than our heads.  We were lying on a very
+much inclined plane, with our heads downward.  I roused Euphemia,
+and we both got out of bed, when, at almost the same moment, we
+slipped down the floor into ever so much water.
+
+Euphemia was scarcely awake, and she fell down gurgling.  It was
+dark, but I heard her fall, and I jumped over the bedstead to her
+assistance.  I had scarcely raised her up, when I heard a pounding
+at the front door or main-hatchway, and our boarder shouted:
+
+"Get up!  Come out of that!  Open the door!  The old boat's turning
+over!"
+
+My heart fell within me, but I clutched Euphemia.  I said no word,
+and she simply screamed.  I dragged her over the floor, sometimes
+in the water and sometimes out of it.  I got the dining-room door
+open and set her on the stairs.  They were in a topsy-turvy
+condition, but they were dry.  I found a lantern which hung on a
+nail, with a match-box under it, and I struck a light.  Then I
+scrambled back and brought her some clothes.
+
+All this time the boarder was yelling and pounding at the door.
+When Euphemia was ready I opened the door and took her out.
+
+"You go dress yourself;" said the boarder.  "I'll hold her here
+until you come back."
+
+I left her and found my clothes (which, chair and all, had tumbled
+against the foot of the bed and so had not gone into the water),
+and soon reappeared on deck.  The wind was blowing strongly, but it
+did not now seem to be very cold.  The deck reminded me of the
+gang-plank of a Harlem steamboat at low tide.  It was inclined at
+an angle of more than forty-five degrees, I am sure.  There was
+light enough for us to see about us, but the scene and all the
+dreadful circumstances made me feel the most intense desire to wake
+up and find it all a dream.  There was no doubt, however, about the
+boarder being wide awake.
+
+"Now then," said he, "take hold of her on that side and we'll help
+her over here.  You scramble down on that side; it's all dry just
+there.  The boat's turned over toward the water, and I'll lower her
+down to you.  I'll let a rope over the sides.  You can hold on to
+that as you go down."
+
+I got over the bulwarks and let myself down to the ground.  Then
+the boarder got Euphemia up and slipped her over the side, holding
+to her hands, and letting her gently down until I could reach her.
+She said never a word, but screamed at times.  I carried her a
+little way up the shore and set her down.  I wanted to take her up
+to a house near by, where we bought our milk, but she declined to
+go until we had saved Pomona.
+
+So I went back to the boat, having carefully wrapped up Euphemia,
+to endeavor to save the girl.  I found that the boarder had so
+arranged the gang-plank that it was possible, without a very great
+exercise of agility, to pass from the shore to the boat.  When I
+first saw him, on reaching the shelving deck, he was staggering up
+the stairs with a dining-room chair and a large framed engraving of
+Raphael's Dante--an ugly picture, but full of true feeling; at
+least so Euphemia always declared, though I am not quite sure that
+I know what she meant.
+
+"Where is Pomona?" I said, endeavoring to stand on the hill-side of
+the deck.
+
+"I don't know," said he, "but we must get the things out.  The
+tide's rising and the wind's getting up.  The boat will go over
+before we know it."
+
+"But we must find the girl," I said.  "She can't be left to drown."
+
+"I don't think it would matter much," said he, getting over the
+side of the boat with his awkward load.  "She would be of about as
+much use drowned as any other way.  If it hadn't been for that hole
+she cut in the side of the boat, this would never have happened."
+
+"You don't think it was that!" I said, holding the picture and the
+chair while he let himself down to the gang-plank.
+
+"Yes, it was," he replied.  "The tide's very high, and the water
+got over that hole and rushed in.  The water and the wind will
+finish this old craft before very long."
+
+And then he took his load from me and dashed down the gang-plank.
+I went below to look for Pomona.  The lantern still hung on the
+nail, and I took it down and went into the kitchen.  There was
+Pomona, dressed, and with her hat on, quietly packing some things
+in a basket.
+
+"Come, hurry out of this," I cried.  "Don't you know that this
+house--this boat, I mean, is a wreck?"
+
+"Yes, sma'am--sir, I mean--I know it, and I suppose we shall soon
+be at the mercy of the waves."
+
+"Well, then, go as quickly as you can.  What are you putting in
+that basket?"
+
+"Food," she said.  "We may need it."
+
+I took her by the shoulder and hurried her on deck, over the
+bulwark, down the gang-plank, and so on to the place where I had
+left Euphemia.
+
+I found the dear girl there, quiet and collected, all up in a
+little bunch, to shield herself from the wind.  I wasted no time,
+but hurried the two women over to the house of our milk-merchant.
+There, with some difficulty, I roused the good woman, and after
+seeing Euphemia and Pomona safely in the house, I left them to tell
+the tale, and ran back to the boat.
+
+The boarder was working like a Trojan.  He had already a pile of
+our furniture on the beach.
+
+I set about helping him, and for an hour we labored at this hasty
+and toilsome moving.  It was indeed a toilsome business.  The
+floors were shelving, the stairs leaned over sideways, ever so far,
+and the gang-plank was desperately short and steep.
+
+Still, we saved quite a number of household articles.  Some things
+we broke and some we forgot, and some things were too big to move
+in this way; but we did very well, considering the circumstances.
+
+The wind roared, the tide rose, and the boat groaned and creaked.
+We were in the kitchen, trying to take the stove apart (the boarder
+was sure we could carry it up, if we could get the pipe out and the
+legs and doors off), when we heard a crash.  We rushed on deck and
+found that the garden had fallen in!  Making our way as well as we
+could toward the gaping rent in the deck, we saw that the turnip-
+bed had gone down bodily into the boarder's room.  He did not
+hesitate, but scrambled down his narrow stairs.  I followed him.
+He struck a match that he had in his pocket, and lighted a little
+lantern that hung under the stairs.  His room was a perfect rubbish
+heap.  The floor, bed, chairs, pitcher, basin--everything was
+covered or filled with garden mold and turnips.  Never did I behold
+such a scene.  He stood in the midst of it, holding his lantern
+high above his head.  At length he spoke.
+
+"If we had time," he said, "we might come down here and pick out a
+lot of turnips."
+
+"But how about your furniture?" I exclaimed.
+
+"Oh, that's ruined!" he replied.
+
+So we did not attempt to save any of it, but we got hold of his
+trunk and carried that on shore.
+
+When we returned, we found that the water was pouring through his
+partition, making the room a lake of mud.  And, as the water was
+rising rapidly below, and the boat was keeling over more and more,
+we thought it was time to leave, and we left.
+
+It would not do to go far away from our possessions, which were
+piled up in a sad-looking heap on the shore; and so, after I had
+gone over to the milk-woman's to assure Euphemia of our safety, the
+boarder and I passed the rest of the night--there was not much of
+it left--in walking up and down the beach smoking some cigars which
+he fortunately had in his pocket.
+
+In the morning I took Euphemia to the hotel, about a mile away--and
+arranged for the storage of our furniture there, until we could
+find another habitation.  This habitation, we determined, was to be
+in a substantial house, or part of a house, which should not be
+affected by the tides.
+
+During the morning the removal of our effects was successfully
+accomplished, and our boarder went to town to look for a furnished
+room.  He had nothing but his trunk to take to it.
+
+In the afternoon I left Euphemia at the hotel, where she was taking
+a nap (she certainly needed it, for she had spent the night in a
+wooden rocking-chair at the milk-woman's), and I strolled down to
+the river to take a last look at the remains of old Rudder Grange.
+
+I felt sadly enough as I walked along the well-worn path to the
+canal-boat, and thought how it had been worn by my feet more than
+any other's, and how gladly I had walked that way, so often during
+that delightful summer.  I forgot all that had been disagreeable,
+and thought only of the happy times we had had.
+
+It was a beautiful autumn afternoon, and the wind had entirely died
+away.  When I came within sight of our old home, it presented a
+doleful appearance.  The bow had drifted out into the river, and
+was almost entirely under water.  The stern stuck up in a mournful
+and ridiculous manner, with its keel, instead of its broadside,
+presented to the view of persons on the shore.  As I neared the
+boat I heard a voice.  I stopped and listened.  There was no one in
+sight.  Could the sounds come from the boat?  I concluded that it
+must be so, and I walked up closer.  Then I heard distinctly the
+words:
+
+"He grasp ed her by the thro at and yell ed, swear to me thou nev
+er wilt re veal my se cret, or thy hot heart's blood shall stain
+this mar bel fib or; she gave one gry vy ous gasp and--"
+
+It was Pomona!
+
+Doubtless she had climbed up the stern of the boat and had
+descended into the depths of the wreck to rescue her beloved book,
+the reading of which had so long been interrupted by my harsh
+decrees.  Could I break in on this one hour of rapture?  I had not
+the heart to do it, and as I slowly moved away, there came to me
+the last words that I ever heard from Rudder Grange:
+
+"And with one wild shry ik to heav en her heart's blo od spat ter
+ed that prynce ly home of woe--"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE NEW RUDDER GRANGE.
+
+
+I have before given an account of the difficulties we encountered
+when we started out house-hunting, and it was this doleful
+experience which made Euphemia declare that before we set out on a
+second search for a residence, we should know exactly what we
+wanted.
+
+To do this, we must know how other people live, we must examine
+into the advantages and disadvantages of the various methods of
+housekeeping, and make up our minds on the subject.
+
+When we came to this conclusion we were in a city boarding-house,
+and were entirely satisfied that this style of living did not suit
+us at all.
+
+At this juncture I received a letter from the gentleman who had
+boarded with us on the canal-boat.  Shortly after leaving us the
+previous fall, he had married a widow lady with two children, and
+was now keeping house in a French flat in the upper part of the
+city.  We had called upon the happy couple soon after their
+marriage, and the letter, now received, contained an invitation for
+us to come and dine, and spend the night.
+
+"We'll go," said Euphemia.  "There's nothing I want so much as to
+see how people keep house in a French flat.  Perhaps we'll like it.
+And I must see those children."  So we went.
+
+The house, as Euphemia remarked, was anything but flat.  It was
+very tall indeed--the tallest house in the neighborhood.  We
+entered the vestibule, the outer door being open, and beheld, on
+one side of us, a row of bell-handles.  Above each of these handles
+was the mouth of a speaking-tube, and above each of these, a little
+glazed frame containing a visiting-card.
+
+"Isn't this cute?" said Euphemia, reading over the cards.  "Here's
+his name and this is his bell and tube!  Which would you do first,
+ring or blow?"
+
+"My dear," said I, "you don't blow up those tubes.  We must ring
+the bell, just as if it were an ordinary front-door bell, and
+instead of coming to the door, some one will call down the tube to
+us."
+
+I rang the bell under the boarder's name, and very soon a voice at
+the tube said:
+
+"Well?"
+
+Then I told our names, and in an instant the front door opened.
+
+"Why, their flat must be right here," whispered Euphemia.  "How
+quickly the girl came!"
+
+And she looked for the girl as we entered.  But there was no one
+there.
+
+"Their flat is on the fifth story," said I.  "He mentioned that in
+his letter.  We had better shut the door and go up."
+
+Up and up the softly carpeted stairs we climbed, and not a soul we
+saw or heard.
+
+"It is like an enchanted cavern," said Euphemia.  "You say the
+magic word, the door in the rock opens and you go on, and on,
+through the vaulted passages--"
+
+"Until you come to the ogre," said the boarder, who was standing at
+the top of the stairs.  He did not behave at all like an ogre, for
+he was very glad to see us, and so was his wife.  After we had
+settled down in the parlor and the boarder's wife had gone to see
+about something concerning the dinner, Euphemia asked after the
+children.
+
+"I hope they haven't gone to bed," she said, "for I do so want to
+see the dear little things."
+
+The ex-boarder, as Euphemia called him, smiled grimly.
+
+"They're not so very little," he said.  "My wife's son is nearly
+grown.  He is at an academy in Connecticut, and he expects to go
+into a civil engineer's office in the spring.  His sister is older
+than he is.  My wife married--in the first instance--when she was
+very young--very young in deed."
+
+"Oh!" said Euphemia; and then, after a pause, "And neither of them
+is at home now?"
+
+"No," said the ex-boarder.  "By the way, what do you think of this
+dado?  It is a portable one; I devised it myself.  You can take it
+away with you to another house when you move.  But there is the
+dinner-bell.  I'll show you over the establishment after we have
+had something to eat."
+
+After our meal we made a tour of inspection.  The flat, which
+included the whole floor, contained nine or ten rooms, of all
+shapes and sizes.  The corners in some of the rooms were cut off
+and shaped up into closets and recesses, so that Euphemia said the
+corners of every room were in some other room.
+
+Near the back of the flat was a dumb-waiter, with bells and
+speaking-tubes.  When the butcher, the baker, or the kerosene-lamp
+maker, came each morning, he rang the bell, and called up the tube
+to know what was wanted.  The order was called down, and he brought
+the things in the afternoon.
+
+All this greatly charmed Euphemia.  It was so cute, so complete.
+There were no interviews with disagreeable trades-people, none of
+the ordinary annoyances of housekeeping.  Everything seemed to be
+done with a bell, a speaking-tube or a crank.
+
+"Indeed," said the ex-boarder, "if it were not for people tripping
+over the wires, I could rig up attachments by which I could sit in
+the parlor, and by using pedals and a key-board, I could do all the
+work of this house without getting out of my easy-chair."
+
+One of the most peculiar features of the establishment was the
+servant's room.  This was at the rear end of the floor, and as
+there was not much space left after the other rooms had been made,
+it was very small; so small, indeed, that it would accommodate only
+a very short bedstead.  This made it necessary for our friends to
+consider the size of the servant when they engaged her.
+
+"There were several excellent girls at the intelligence office
+where I called," said the ex-boarder, "but I measured them, and
+they were all too tall.  So we had to take a short one, who is only
+so so.  There was one big Scotch girl who was the very person for
+us, and I would have taken her if my wife had not objected to my
+plan for her accommodation.
+
+"What was that?" I asked.
+
+"Well," said he, "I first thought of cutting a hole in the
+partition wall at the foot of the bed, for her to put her feet
+through."
+
+"Never!" said his wife, emphatically.  "I would never have allowed
+that."
+
+"And then," continued he, "I thought of turning the bed around, and
+cutting a larger hole, through which she might have put her head
+into the little room on this side.  A low table could have stood
+under the hole, and her head might have rested on a cushion on the
+table very comfortably."
+
+"My dear," said his wife, "it would have frightened me to death to
+go into that room and see that head on a cushion on a table--"
+
+"Like John the Baptist," interrupted Euphemia.
+
+"Well," said our ex-boarder, "the plan would have had its
+advantages."
+
+"Oh!" cried Euphemia, looking out of a back window.  "What a lovely
+little iron balcony!  Do you sit out there on warm evenings?"
+
+"That's a fire-escape," said the ex-boarder.  "We don't go out
+there unless it is very hot indeed, on account of the house being
+on fire.  You see there is a little door in the floor of the
+balcony and an iron ladder leading to the balcony beneath, and so
+on, down to the first story."
+
+"And you have to creep through that hole and go down that dreadful
+steep ladder every time there is a fire?" said Euphemia.
+
+"Well, I guess we would never go down but once," he answered.
+
+"No, indeed," said Euphemia; "you'd fall down and break your neck
+the first time," and she turned away from the window with a very
+grave expression on her face.
+
+Soon after this our hostess conducted Euphemia to the guest-
+chamber, while her husband and I finished a bed-time cigar.
+
+When I joined Euphemia in her room, she met me with a mysterious
+expression on her face.  She shut the door, and then said in a very
+earnest tone:
+
+"Do you see that little bedstead in the corner?  I did not notice
+it until I came in just now, and then, being quite astonished, I
+said, 'Why here's a child's bed; who sleeps here?'  'Oh,' says she,
+'that's our little Adele's bedstead.  We have it in our room when
+she's here.'  'Little Adele!' said I, 'I didn't know she was
+little--not small enough for that bed, at any rate.'  'Why, yes,'
+said she, 'Adele is only four years old.  The bedstead is quite
+large enough for her.'  'And she is not here now?' I said, utterly
+amazed at all this.  'No,' she answered, 'she is not here now, but
+we try to have her with us as much as we can, and always keep her
+little bed ready for her.'  'I suppose she's with her father's
+people,' I said, and she answered, 'Oh yes,' and bade me good-
+night.  What does all this mean?  Our boarder told us that the
+daughter is grown up, and here his wife declares that she is only
+four years old!  I don't know what in the world to make of this
+mystery!"
+
+I could give Euphemia no clue.  I supposed there was some mistake,
+and that was all I could say, except that I was sleepy, and that we
+could find out all about it in the morning.  But Euphemia could not
+dismiss the subject from her mind.  She said no more,--but I could
+see--until I fell asleep--that she was thinking about it.
+
+It must have been about the middle of the night, perhaps later,
+when I was suddenly awakened by Euphemia starting up in the bed,
+with the exclamation:
+
+"I have it!"
+
+"What?" I cried, sitting up in a great hurry.  "What is it?  What
+have you got?  What's the matter?"
+
+"I know it!" she said, "I know it.  Our boarder is a GRANDFATHER!
+Little Adele is the grown-up daughter's child.  He was quite
+particular to say that his wife married VERY young.  Just to think
+of it!  So short a time ago, he was living with us--a bachelor--and
+now, in four short months, he is a grandfather!"
+
+Carefully propounded inquiries, in the morning, proved Euphemia's
+conclusions to be correct.
+
+The next evening, when we were quietly sitting in our own room,
+Euphemia remarked that she did not wish to have anything to do with
+French flats.
+
+"They seem to be very convenient," I said.
+
+"Oh yes, convenient enough, but I don't like them.  I would hate to
+live where everything let down like a table-lid, or else turned
+with a crank.  And when I think of those fire-escapes, and the
+boarder's grandchild, it makes me feel very unpleasantly."
+
+"But the grandchild don't follow as a matter of course," said I.
+
+"No," she answered, "but I shall never like French flats."
+
+And we discussed them no more.
+
+For some weeks we examined into every style of economic and
+respectable housekeeping, and many methods of living in what
+Euphemia called "imitation comfort" were set aside as unworthy of
+consideration.
+
+"My dear," said Euphemia, one evening, "what we really ought to do
+is to build.  Then we would have exactly the house we want."
+
+"Very true," I replied; "but to build a house, a man must have
+money."
+
+"Oh no!" said she, "or at least not much.  For one thing, you might
+join a building association.  In some of those societies I know
+that you only have to pay a dollar a week."
+
+"But do you suppose the association builds houses for all its
+members?" I asked.
+
+"Of course I suppose so.  Else why is it called a building
+association?"
+
+I had read a good deal about these organizations, and I explained
+to Euphemia that a dollar a week was never received by any of them
+in payment for a new house.
+
+"Then build yourself," she said; "I know how that can be done."
+
+"Oh, it's easy enough," I remarked, "if you have the money."
+
+"No, you needn't have any money," said Euphemia, rather hastily.
+"Just let me show you.  Supposing, for instance, that you want to
+build a house worth--well, say twenty thousand dollars, in some
+pretty town near the city."
+
+"I would rather figure on a cheaper house than that for a country
+place," I interrupted.
+
+"Well then, say two thousand dollars.  You get masons, and
+carpenters, and people to dig the cellar, and you engage them to
+build your house.  You needn't pay them until it's done, of course.
+Then when it's all finished, borrow two thousand dollars and give
+the house as security.  After that you see, you have only to pay
+the interest on the borrowed money.  When you save enough money to
+pay back the loan, the house is your own.  Now, isn't that a good
+plan?"
+
+"Yes," said I, "if there could be found people who would build your
+house and wait for their money until some one would lend you its
+full value on a mortgage."
+
+"Well," said Euphemia, "I guess they could be found if you would
+only look for them."
+
+"I'll look for them, when I go to heaven," I said.
+
+We gave up for the present, the idea of building or buying a house,
+and determined to rent a small place in the country, and then, as
+Euphemia wisely said, if we liked it, we might buy it.  After she
+had dropped her building projects she thought that one ought to
+know just how a house would suit before having it on one's hands.
+
+We could afford something better than a canal-boat now, and
+therefore we were not so restricted as in our first search for a
+house.  But, the one thing which troubled my wife--and, indeed,
+caused me much anxious thought, was that scourge of almost all
+rural localities--tramps.  It would be necessary for me to be away
+all day,--and we could not afford to keep a man,--so we must be
+careful to get a house somewhere off the line of ordinary travel,
+or else in a well-settled neighborhood, where there would be some
+one near at hand in case of unruly visitors.
+
+"A village I don't like," said Euphemia: "there is always so much
+gossip, and people know all about what you have, and what you do.
+And yet it would be very lonely, and perhaps dangerous, for us to
+live off somewhere, all by ourselves.  And there is another
+objection to a village.  We don't want a house with a small yard
+and a garden at the back.  We ought to have a dear little farm,
+with some fields for corn, and a cow, and a barn and things of that
+sort.  All that would be lovely.  I'll tell you what we want," she
+cried, seized with a sudden inspiration; "we ought to try to get
+the end-house of a village.  Then our house could be near the
+neighbors, and our farm could stretch out a little way into the
+country beyond us.  Let us fix our minds upon such a house and I
+believe we can get it."
+
+So we fixed our minds, but in the course of a week or two we
+unfixed them several times to allow the consideration of places,
+which otherwise would have been out of range; and during one of
+these intervals of mental disfixment we took a house.
+
+It was not the end-house of a village, but it was in the outskirts
+of a very small rural settlement.  Our nearest neighbor was within
+vigorous shouting distance, and the house suited us so well in
+other respects, that we concluded that this would do.  The house
+was small, but large enough.  There were some trees around it, and
+a little lawn in front.  There was a garden, a small barn and
+stable, a pasture field, and land enough besides for small patches
+of corn and potatoes.  The rent was low, the water good, and no one
+can imagine how delighted we were.
+
+We did not furnish the whole house at first, but what mattered it?
+We had no horse or cow, but the pasture and barn were ready for
+them.  We did not propose to begin with everything at once.
+
+Our first evening in that house was made up of hours of unalloyed
+bliss.  We walked from room to room; we looked out on the garden
+and the lawn; we sat on the little porch while I smoked.
+
+"We were happy at Rudder Grange," said Euphemia; "but that was only
+a canal-boat, and could not, in the nature of things, have been a
+permanent home."
+
+"No," said I, "it could not have been permanent.  But, in many
+respects, it was a delightful home.  The very name of it brings
+pleasant thoughts."
+
+"It was a nice name," said Euphemia, "and I'll tell you what we
+might do:  Let us call this place Rudder Grange--the New Rudder
+Grange!  The name will do just as well for a house as for a boat."
+
+I agreed on the spot, and the house was christened.
+
+Our household was small; we had a servant--a German woman; and we
+had ourselves, that was all.
+
+I did not do much in the garden; it was too late in the season.
+The former occupant had planted some corn and potatoes, with a few
+other vegetables, and these I weeded and hoed, working early in the
+morning and when I came home in the afternoon.  Euphemia tied up
+the rose-vines, trimmed the bushes, and with a little rake and hoe
+she prepared a flower-bed in front of the parlor-window.  This
+exercise gave us splendid appetites, and we loved our new home more
+and more.
+
+Our German girl did not suit us exactly at first, and day by day
+she grew to suit us less.  She was a quiet, kindly, pleasant
+creature, and delighted in an out-of-door life.  She was as willing
+to weed in the garden as she was to cook or wash.  At first I was
+very much pleased with this, because, as I remarked to Euphemia,
+you can find very few girls who would be willing to work in the
+garden, and she might be made very useful.
+
+But, after a time, Euphemia began to get a little out of patience
+with her.  She worked out-of-doors entirely too much.  And what she
+did there, as well as some of her work in the house, was very much
+like certain German literature--you did not know how it was done,
+or what it was for.
+
+One afternoon I found Euphemia quite annoyed.
+
+"Look here," she said, "and see what that girl has been at work at,
+nearly all this afternoon.  I was upstairs sewing and thought she
+was ironing.  Isn't it too provoking?"
+
+It WAS provoking.  The contemplative German had collected a lot of
+short ham-bones--where she found them I cannot imagine--and had
+made of them a border around my wife's flower-bed.  The bones stuck
+up straight a few inches above the ground, all along the edge of
+the bed, and the marrow cavity of each one was filled with earth in
+which she had planted seeds.
+
+"'These,' she says, 'will spring up and look beautiful,'" said
+Euphemia; "they have that style of thing in her country."
+
+"Then let her take them off with her to her country," I exclaimed.
+
+"No, no," said Euphemia, hurriedly, "don't kick them out.  It would
+only wound her feelings.  She did it all for the best, and thought
+it would please me to have such a border around my bed.  But she is
+too independent, and neglects her proper work.  I will give her a
+week's notice and get another servant.  When she goes we can take
+these horrid bones away.  But I hope nobody will call on us in the
+meantime."
+
+"Must we keep these things here a whole week?" I asked.
+
+"Oh, I can't turn her away without giving her a fair notice.  That
+would be cruel."
+
+I saw the truth of the remark, and determined to bear with the
+bones and her rather than be unkind.
+
+That night Euphemia informed the girl of her decision, and the next
+morning, soon after I had left, the good German appeared with her
+bonnet on and her carpet-bag in her hand, to take leave of her
+mistress.
+
+"What!" cried Euphemia.  "You are not going to-day?"
+
+"If it is goot to go at all it is goot to go now," said the girl.
+
+"And you will go off and leave me without any one in the house,
+after my putting myself out to give you a fair notice?  It's
+shameful!"
+
+"I think it is very goot for me to go now," quietly replied the
+girl.  "This house is very loneful.  I will go to-morrow in the
+city to see your husband for my money.  Goot morning."  And off she
+trudged to the station.
+
+Before I reached the house that afternoon, Euphemia rushed out to
+tell this story.  I would not like to say how far I kicked those
+ham-bones.
+
+This German girl had several successors, and some of them suited as
+badly and left as abruptly as herself; but Euphemia never forgot
+the ungrateful stab given her by this "ham-bone girl," as she
+always called her.  It was her first wound of the kind, and it came
+in the very beginning of the campaign when she was all unused to
+this domestic warfare.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+TREATING OF AN UNSUCCESSFUL BROKER AND A DOG.
+
+
+It was a couple of weeks, or thereabouts, after this episode that
+Euphemia came down to the gate to meet me on my return from the
+city.  I noticed a very peculiar expression on her face.  She
+looked both thoughtful and pleased.  Almost the first words she
+said to me were these:
+
+"A tramp came here to-day."
+
+"I am sorry to hear that," I exclaimed.  "That's the worst news I
+have had yet.  I did hope that we were far enough from the line of
+travel to escape these scourges.  How did you get rid of him?  Was
+he impertinent?"
+
+"You must not feel that way about all tramps," said she.
+"Sometimes they are deserving of our charity, and ought to be
+helped.  There is a great difference in them."
+
+"That may be," I said; "but what of this one?  When was he here,
+and when did he go?"
+
+"He did not go at all.  He is here now."
+
+"Here now!" I cried.  "Where is he?"
+
+"Do not call out so loud," said Euphemia, putting her hand on my
+arm.  "You will waken him.  He is asleep."
+
+"Asleep!" said I.  "A tramp?  Here?"
+
+"Yes.  Stop, let me tell you about him.  He told me his story, and
+it is a sad one.  He is a middle-aged man--fifty perhaps--and has
+been rich.  He was once a broker in Wall street, but lost money by
+the failure of various railroads--the Camden and Amboy, for one."
+
+"That hasn't failed," I interrupted.
+
+"Well then it was the Northern Pacific, or some other one of them--
+at any rate I know it was either a railroad or a bank,--and he soon
+became very poor.  He has a son in Cincinnati, who is a successful
+merchant, and lives in a fine house, with horses and carriages, and
+all that; and this poor man has written to his son, but has never
+had any answer.  So now he is going to walk to Cincinnati to see
+him.  He knows he will not be turned away if he can once meet his
+son, face to face.  He was very tired when he stopped here,--and he
+has ever and ever so far to walk yet, you know,--and so after I had
+given him something to eat, I let him lie down in the outer
+kitchen, on that roll of rag-carpet that is there.  I spread it out
+for him.  It is a hard bed for one who has known comfort, but he
+seems to sleep soundly."
+
+"Let me see him," said I, and I walked back to the outer kitchen.
+
+There lay the unsuccessful broker fast asleep.  His face, which was
+turned toward me as I entered, showed that it had been many days
+since he had been shaved, and his hair had apparently been uncombed
+for about the same length of time.  His clothes were very old, and
+a good deal torn, and he wore one boot and one shoe.
+
+"Whew!" said I.  "Have you been giving him whisky?"
+
+"No," whispered Euphemia, "of course not.  I noticed that smell,
+and he said he had been cleaning his clothes with alcohol."
+
+"They needed it, I'm sure," I remarked as I turned away.  "And
+now," said I, "where's the girl?"
+
+"This is her afternoon out.  What is the matter?  You look
+frightened."
+
+"Oh, I'm not frightened, but I find I must go down to the station
+again.  Just run up and put on your bonnet.  It will be a nice
+little walk for you."
+
+I had been rapidly revolving the matter in my mind.  What was I to
+do with this wretch who was now asleep in my outer kitchen?  If I
+woke him up and drove him off,--and I might have difficulty in
+doing it,--there was every reason to believe that he would not go
+far, but return at night and commit some revengeful act.  I never
+saw a more sinister-looking fellow.  And he was certainly drunk.
+He must not be allowed to wander about our neighborhood.  I would
+go for the constable and have him arrested.
+
+So I locked the door from the kitchen into the house and then the
+outside door of the kitchen, and when my wife came down we hurried
+off.  On the way I told her what I intended to do, and what I
+thought of our guest.  She answered scarcely a word, and I hoped
+that she was frightened.  I think she was.
+
+The constable, who was also coroner of our township, had gone to a
+creek, three miles away, to hold an inquest, and there was nobody
+to arrest the man.  The nearest police-station was at Hackingford,
+six miles away, on the railroad.  I held a consultation with the
+station-master, and the gentleman who kept the grocery-store
+opposite.
+
+They could think of nothing to be done except to shoot the man, and
+to that I objected.
+
+"However," said I, "he can't stay there;" and a happy thought just
+then striking me, I called to the boy who drove the village
+express-wagon, and engaged him for a job.  The wagon was standing
+at the station, and to save time, I got in and rode to my house.
+Euphemia went over to call on the groceryman's wife until I
+returned.
+
+I had determined that the man should be taken away, although, until
+I was riding home, I had not made up my mind where to have him
+taken.  But on the road I settled this matter.
+
+On reaching the house, we drove into the yard as close to the
+kitchen as we could go.  Then I unlocked the door, and the boy--who
+was a big, strapping fellow--entered with me.  We found the ex-
+broker still wrapped in the soundest slumber.  Leaving the boy to
+watch him, I went upstairs and got a baggage-tag which I directed
+to the chief of police at the police station in Hackingford.  I
+returned to the kitchen and fastened this tag, conspicuously, on
+the lappel of the sleeper's coat.  Then, with a clothes-line, I
+tied him up carefully, hand and foot.  To all this he offered not
+the slightest opposition.  When he was suitably packed, with due
+regard to the probable tenderness of wrist and ankle in one brought
+up in luxury, the boy and I carried him to the wagon.
+
+He was a heavy load, and we may have bumped him a little, but his
+sleep was not disturbed.  Then we drove him to the express office.
+This was at the railroad station, and the station-master was also
+express agent.  At first he was not inclined to receive my parcel,
+but when I assured him that all sorts of live things were sent by
+express, and that I could see no reason for making an exception in
+this case, he added my arguments to his own disposition, as a
+house-holder, to see the goods forwarded to their destination, and
+so gave me a receipt, and pasted a label on the ex-broker's
+shoulder.  I set no value on the package, which I prepaid.
+
+"Now then," said the station-master, "he'll go all right, if the
+express agent on the train will take him."
+
+This matter was soon settled, for, in a few minutes, the train
+stopped at the station.  My package was wheeled to the express car,
+and two porters, who entered heartily into the spirit of the thing,
+hoisted it into the car.  The train-agent, who just then noticed
+the character of the goods, began to declare that he would not have
+the fellow in his car; but my friend the station-master shouted out
+that everything was all right,--the man was properly packed,
+invoiced and paid for, and the train, which was behind time, moved
+away before the irate agent could take measures to get rid of his
+unwelcome freight.
+
+"Now," said I, "there'll be a drunken man at the police-station in
+Hackingford in about half-an-hour.  His offense will be as evident
+there as here, and they can do what they please with him.  I shall
+telegraph, to explain the matter and prepare them for his arrival."
+
+When I had done this Euphemia and I went home.  The tramp had cost
+me some money, but I was well satisfied with my evening's work, and
+felt that the township owed me, at least, a vote of thanks.
+
+But I firmly made up my mind that Euphemia should never again be
+left unprotected.  I would not even trust to a servant who would
+agree to have no afternoons out.  I would get a dog.
+
+The next day I advertised for a fierce watchdog, and in the course
+of a week I got one.  Before I procured him I examined into the
+merits, and price, of about one hundred dogs.  My dog was named
+Pete, but I determined to make a change in that respect.  He was a
+very tall, bony, powerful beast, of a dull black color, and with a
+lower jaw that would crack the hind-leg of an ox, so I was
+informed.  He was of a varied breed, and the good Irishman of whom
+I bought him said he had fine blood in him, and attempted to refer
+him back to the different classes of dogs from which he had been
+derived.  But after I had had him awhile, I made an analysis based
+on his appearance and character, and concluded that he was mainly
+blood-hound, shaded with wolf-dog and mastiff, and picked out with
+touches of bull-dog.
+
+The man brought him home for me, and chained him up in an unused
+wood-shed, for I had no doghouse as yet.
+
+"Now thin," said he, "all you've got to do is to keep 'im chained
+up there for three or four days till he gets used to ye.  An' I'll
+tell ye the best way to make a dog like ye.  Jist give him a good
+lickin'.  Then he'll know yer his master, and he'll like ye iver
+aftherward.  There's plenty of people that don't know that.  And,
+by the way, sir, that chain's none too strong for 'im.  I got it
+when he wasn't mor'n half grown.  Ye'd bether git him a new one."
+
+When the man had gone, I stood and looked at the dog, and could not
+help hoping that he would learn to like me without the intervention
+of a thrashing.  Such harsh methods were not always necessary, I
+felt sure.
+
+After our evening meal--a combination of dinner and supper, of
+which Euphemia used to say that she did not know whether to call it
+dinper or supner--we went out together to look at our new guardian.
+
+Euphemia was charmed with him.
+
+"How massive!" she exclaimed.  "What splendid limbs!  And look at
+that immense head!  I know I shall never be afraid now.  I feel
+that that is a dog I can rely upon.  Make him stand up, please, so
+I can see how tall he is."
+
+"I think it would be better not to disturb him," I answered, "he
+may be tired.  He will get up of his own accord very soon.  And
+indeed I hope that he will not get up until I go to the store and
+get him a new chain."
+
+As I said this I made a step forward to look at his chain, and at
+that instant a low growl, like the first rumblings of an
+earthquake, ran through the dog.
+
+I stepped back again and walked over to the village for the chain.
+The dog-chains shown me at the store all seemed too short and too
+weak, and I concluded to buy two chains such as used for hitching
+horses and to join them so as to make a long as well as a strong
+one of them.  I wanted him to be able to come out of the wood-shed
+when it should be necessary to show himself.
+
+On my way home with my purchase the thought suddenly struck me, How
+will you put that chain on your dog?  The memory of the rumbling
+growl was still vivid.
+
+I never put the chain on him.  As I approached him with it in my
+hand, he rose to his feet, his eyes sparkled, his black lips drew
+back from his mighty teeth, he gave one savage bark and sprang at
+me.
+
+His chain held and I went into the house.  That night he broke
+loose and went home to his master, who lived fully ten miles away.
+
+When I found in the morning that he was gone I was in doubt whether
+it would be better to go and look for him or not.  But I concluded
+to keep up a brave heart, and found him, as I expected, at the
+place where I had bought him.  The Irishman took him to my house
+again and I had to pay for the man's loss of time as well as for
+his fare on the railroad.  But the dog's old master chained him up
+with the new chain and I felt repaid for my outlay.
+
+Every morning and night I fed that dog, and I spoke as kindly and
+gently to him as I knew how.  But he seemed to cherish a distaste
+for me, and always greeted me with a growl.  He was an awful dog.
+
+About a week after the arrival of this animal, I was astonished and
+frightened on nearing the house to hear a scream from my wife.  I
+rushed into the yard and was greeted with a succession of screams
+from two voices, that seemed to come from the vicinity of the wood-
+shed.  Hurrying thither, I perceived Euphemia standing on the roof
+of the shed in perilous proximity to the edge, while near the ridge
+of the roof sat our hired girl with her handkerchief over her head.
+
+"Hurry, hurry!" cried Euphemia.  "Climb up here!  The dog is loose!
+Be quick!  Be quick!  Oh! he's coming, he's coming!"
+
+I asked for no explanation.  There was a rail-fence by the side of
+the shed and I sprang on this, and was on the roof just as the dog
+came bounding and barking from the barn.
+
+Instantly Euphemia had me in her arms, and we came very near going
+off the roof together.
+
+"I never feared to have you come home before," she sobbed.  "I
+thought he would tear you limb from limb."
+
+"But how did all this happen?" said I.
+
+"Och! I kin hardly remember," said the girl from under her
+handkerchief.
+
+"Well, I didn't ask you," I said, somewhat too sharply.
+
+"Oh, I'll tell you," said Euphemia.  "There was a man at the gate
+and he looked suspicious and didn't try to come in, and Mary was at
+the barn looking for an egg, and I thought this was a good time to
+see whether the dog was a good watch-dog or not, so I went and
+unchained him--"
+
+"Did you unchain that dog?" I cried.
+
+"Yes, and the minute he was loose he made a rush at the gate, but
+the man was gone before he got there, and as he ran down the road I
+saw that he was Mr. Henderson's man, who was coming here on an
+errand, I expect, and then I went down to the barn to get Mary to
+come and help me chain up the dog, and when she came out he began
+to chase me and then her; and we were so frightened that we climbed
+up here, and I don't know, I'm sure, how I ever got up that fence;
+and do you think he can climb up here?"
+
+"Oh no! my dear," I said.
+
+"An' he's just the beast to go afther a stip-ladder," said the
+girl, in muffled tones.
+
+"And what are we to do?" asked Euphemia.  "We can't eat and sleep
+up here.  Don't you think that if we were all to shout out
+together, we could make some neighbor hear?"
+
+"Oh yes!" I said, "there is no doubt of it.  But then, if a
+neighbor came, the dog would fall on him--"
+
+"And tear him limb from limb," interrupted Euphemia.
+
+"Yes, and besides, my dear, I should hate to have any of the
+neighbors come and find us all up here.  It would look so utterly
+absurd.  Let me try and think of some other plan."
+
+"Well, please be as quick as you can.  It's dreadful to be--who's
+that?"
+
+I looked up and saw a female figure just entering the yard.
+
+"Oh, what shall we do" exclaimed Euphemia.  "The dog will get her.
+Call to her!"
+
+"No, no," said I, "don't make a noise.  It will only bring the dog.
+He seems to have gone to the barn, or somewhere.  Keep perfectly
+quiet, and she may go up on the porch, and as the front door is not
+locked, she may rush into the house, if she sees him coming."
+
+"I do hope she will do that," said Euphemia, anxiously.
+
+"And yet," said I, "it's not pleasant to have strangers going into
+the house when there's no one there."
+
+"But it's better than seeing a stranger torn to pieces before your
+eyes," said Euphemia.
+
+"Yes," I replied, "it is.  Don't you think we might get down now?
+The dog isn't here."
+
+"No, no!" cried Euphemia.  "There he is now, coming this way.  And
+look at that woman!  She is coming right to this shed."
+
+Sure enough, our visitor had passed by the front door, and was
+walking toward us.  Evidently she had heard our voices.
+
+"Don't come here!" cried Euphemia.  "You'll be killed!  Run! run!
+The dog is coming!  Why, mercy on us!  It's Pomona!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+POMONA ONCE MORE.
+
+
+Sure enough, it was Pomona.  There stood our old servant-girl, of
+the canal-boat, with a crooked straw bonnet on her head, a faded
+yellow parasol in her hand, a parcel done up in newspaper under her
+arm, and an expression of astonishment on her face.
+
+"Well, truly!" she ejaculated.
+
+"Into the house, quick!" I said.  "We have a savage dog!"
+
+"And here he is!" cried Euphemia.  "Oh! she will be torn to atoms."
+
+Straight at Pomona came the great black beast, barking furiously.
+But the girl did not move; she did not even turn her head to look
+at the dog, who stopped before he reached her and began to rush
+wildly around her, barking terribly.
+
+We held our breath.  I tried to say "get out!" or "lie down!" but
+my tongue could not form the words.
+
+"Can't you get up here?" gasped Euphemia.
+
+"I don't want to," said the girl.
+
+The dog now stopped barking, and stood looking at Pomona,
+occasionally glancing up at us.  Pomona took not the slightest
+notice of him.
+
+"Do you know, ma'am," said she to Euphemia, "that if I had come
+here yesterday, that dog would have had my life's blood."
+
+"And why don't he have it to-day?" said Euphemia, who, with myself,
+was utterly amazed at the behavior of the dog.
+
+"Because I know more to-day than I did yesterday," answered Pomona.
+"It is only this afternoon that I read something, as I was coming
+here on the cars.  This is it," she continued, unwrapping her paper
+parcel, and taking from it one of the two books it contained.  "I
+finished this part just as the cars stopped, and I put my scissors
+in the place; I'll read it to you."
+
+Standing there with one book still under her arm, the newspaper
+half unwrapped from it, hanging down and flapping in the breeze,
+she opened the other volume at the scissors-place, turned back a
+page or two, and began to read as follows:
+
+
+"Lord Edward slowly san-ter-ed up the bro-ad anc-es-tral walk, when
+sudden-ly from out a cop-se, there sprang a fur-i-ous hound.  The
+marsh-man, con-ce-al-ed in a tree expected to see the life's blood
+of the young nob-le-man stain the path.  But no, Lord Edward did
+not stop nor turn his head.  With a smile, he strode stead-i-ly on.
+Well he knew that if by be-traying no em-otion, he could show the
+dog that he was walking where he had a right, the bru-te would re-
+cog-nize that right and let him pass un-sca-thed.  Thus in this
+moment of peril his nob-le courage saved him.  The hound, abashed,
+returned to his cov-ert, and Lord Edward pass-ed on.
+
+"Foi-led again," mutter-ed the marsh-man.
+
+
+"Now, then," said Pomona, closing the book, "you see I remembered
+that, the minute I saw the dog coming, and I didn't betray any
+emotion.  Yesterday, now, when I didn't know it, I'd 'a been sure
+to betray emotion, and he would have had my life's blood.  Did he
+drive you up there?"
+
+"Yes," said Euphemia; and she hastily explained the situation.
+
+"Then I guess I'd better chain him up," remarked Pomona; and
+advancing to the dog she took him boldly by the collar and pulled
+him toward the shed.  The animal hung back at first, but soon
+followed her, and she chained him up securely.
+
+"Now you can come down," said Pomona.
+
+I assisted Euphemia to the ground, and Pomona persuaded the hired
+girl to descend.
+
+"Will he grab me by the leg?" asked the girl.
+
+"No; get down, gump," said Pomona, and down she scrambled.
+
+We took Pomona into the house with us and asked her news of
+herself.
+
+"Well," said she, "there ain't much to tell.  I staid awhile at the
+institution, but I didn't get much good there, only I learned to
+read to myself, because if I read out loud they came and took the
+book away.  Then I left there and went to live out, but the woman
+was awful mean.  She throwed away one of my books and I was only
+half through it.  It was a real good book, named 'The Bridal
+Corpse, or Montregor's Curse,' and I had to pay for it at the
+circulatin' library.  So I left her quick enough, and then I went
+on the stage."
+
+"On the stage!" cried Euphemia.  "What did you do on the stage?"
+
+"Scrub," replied Pomona.  "You see that I thought if I could get
+anything to do at the theayter, I could work my way up, so I was
+glad to get scrubbin'.  I asked the prompter, one morning, if he
+thought there was a chance for me to work up, and he said yes, I
+might scrub the galleries, and then I told him that I didn't want
+none of his lip, and I pretty soon left that place.  I heard you
+was akeepin' house out here, and so I thought I'd come along and
+see you, and if you hadn't no girl I'd like to live with you again,
+and I guess you might as well take me, for that other girl said,
+when she got down from the shed, that she was goin' away to-morrow;
+she wouldn't stay in no house where they kept such a dog, though I
+told her I guessed he was only cuttin' 'round because he was so
+glad to get loose."
+
+"Cutting around!" exclaimed Euphemia.  "It was nothing of the kind.
+If you had seen him you would have known better.  But did you come
+now to stay?  Where are your things?"
+
+"On me," replied Pomona.
+
+When Euphemia found that the Irish girl really intended to leave,
+we consulted together and concluded to engage Pomona, and I went so
+far as to agree to carry her books to and from the circulating
+library to which she subscribed, hoping thereby to be able to
+exercise some influence on her taste.  And thus part of the old
+family of Rudder Grange had come together again.  True, the boarder
+was away, but, as Pomona remarked, when she heard about him, "You
+couldn't always expect to ever regain the ties that had always
+bound everybody."
+
+Our delight and interest in our little farm increased day by day.
+In a week or two after Pomona's arrival I bought a cow.  Euphemia
+was very anxious to have an Alderney,--they were such gentle,
+beautiful creatures,--but I could not afford such a luxury.  I
+might possibly compass an Alderney calf, but we would have to wait
+a couple of years for our milk, and Euphemia said it would be
+better to have a common cow than to do that.
+
+Great was our inward satisfaction when the cow, our OWN cow, walked
+slowly and solemnly into our yard and began to crop the clover on
+our little lawn.  Pomona and I gently drove her to the barn, while
+Euphemia endeavored to quiet the violent demonstrations of the dog
+(fortunately chained) by assuring him that this was OUR cow and
+that she was to live here, and that he was to take care of her and
+never bark at her.  All this and much more, delivered in the
+earnest and confidential tone in which ladies talk to infants and
+dumb animals, made the dog think that he was to be let loose to
+kill the cow, and he bounded and leaped with delight, tugging at
+his chain so violently that Euphemia became a little frightened and
+left him.  This dog had been named Lord Edward, at the earnest
+solicitation of Pomona, and he was becoming somewhat reconciled to
+his life with us.  He allowed me to unchain him at night and I
+could generally chain him up in the morning without trouble if I
+had a good big plate of food with which to tempt him into the shed.
+
+Before supper we all went down to the barn to see the milking.
+Pomona, who knew all about such things, having been on a farm in
+her first youth, was to be the milkmaid.  But when she began
+operations, she did no more than begin.  Milk as industriously as
+she might, she got no milk.
+
+"This is a queer cow," said Pomona.
+
+"Are you sure that you know how to milk?" asked Euphemia anxiously.
+
+"Can I milk?" said Pomona.  "Why, of course, ma'am.  I've seen 'em
+milk hundreds of times."
+
+"But you never milked, yourself?" I remarked.
+
+"No, sir, but I know just how it's done."
+
+That might be, but she couldn't do it, and at last we had to give
+up the matter in despair, and leave the poor cow until morning,
+when Pomona was to go for a man who occasionally worked on the
+place, and engage him to come and milk for us.
+
+That night as we were going to bed I looked out of the window at
+the barn which contained the cow, and was astonished to see that
+there was a light inside of the building.
+
+"What!" I exclaimed.  "Can't we be left in peaceful possession of a
+cow for a single night?"  And, taking my revolver, I hurried down-
+stairs and out-of-doors, forgetting my hat in my haste.  Euphemia
+screamed after me to be careful and keep the pistol pointed away
+from me.
+
+I whistled for the dog as I went out, but to my surprise he did not
+answer.
+
+"Has he been killed?" I thought, and, for a moment, I wished that I
+was a large family of brothers--all armed.
+
+But on my way to the barn I met a person approaching with a lantern
+and a dog.  It was Pomona, and she had a milk-pail on her arm.
+
+"See here, sir," she said, "it's mor'n half full.  I just made up
+my mind that I'd learn to milk--if it took me all night.  I didn't
+go to bed at all, and I've been at the barn fur an hour.  And there
+ain't no need of my goin' after no man in the mornin'," said she,
+hanging up the barn key on its nail.
+
+I simply mention this circumstance to show what kind of a girl
+Pomona had grown to be.
+
+We were all the time at work in some way, improving our little
+place.  "Some day we will buy it," said Euphemia.  We intended to
+have some wheat put in in the fall and next year we would make the
+place fairly crack with luxuriance.  We would divide the duties of
+the farm, and, among other things, Euphemia would take charge of
+the chickens.  She wished to do this entirely herself, so that
+there might be one thing that should be all her own, just as my
+work in town was all my own.  As she wished to buy the chickens and
+defray all the necessary expenses out of her own private funds, I
+could make no objections, and, indeed, I had no desire to do so.
+She bought a chicken-book, and made herself mistress of the
+subject.  For a week, there was a strong chicken flavor in all our
+conversation.
+
+This was while the poultry yard was building.  There was a chicken-
+house on the place, but no yard, and Euphemia intended to have a
+good big one, because she was going into the business to make
+money.
+
+"Perhaps my chickens may buy the place," she said, and I very much
+hoped they would.
+
+Everything was to be done very systematically.  She would have
+Leghorns, Brahmas, and common fowls.  The first, because they laid
+so many eggs; the second, because they were such fine, big fowls,
+and the third, because they were such good mothers.
+
+"We will eat, and sell the eggs of the first and third classes,"
+she said, "and set the eggs of the second class, under the hens of
+the third class."
+
+"There seems to be some injustice in that arrangement," I said,
+"for the first class will always be childless; the second class
+will have nothing to do with their offspring, while the third will
+be obliged to bring up and care for the children of others."
+
+But I really had no voice in this matter.  As soon as the carpenter
+had finished the yard, and had made some coops and other necessary
+arrangements, Euphemia hired a carriage and went about the country
+to buy chickens.  It was not easy to find just what she wanted, and
+she was gone all day.
+
+However, she brought home an enormous Brahma cock and ten hens,
+which number was pretty equally divided into her three classes.
+She was very proud of her purchases, and indeed they were fine
+fowls.  In the evening I made some allusion to the cost of all this
+carpenter work, carriage-hire, etc., besides the price of the
+chickens.
+
+"O!" said she, "you don't look at the matter in the right light.
+You haven't studied it up as I have.  Now, just let me show you how
+this thing will pay, if carried on properly."  Producing a piece of
+paper covered with figures, she continued: "I begin with ten hens--
+I got four common ones, because it would make it easier to
+calculate.  After a while, I set these ten hens on thirteen eggs
+each; three of these eggs will probably spoil,--that leaves ten
+chickens hatched out.  Of these, I will say that half die, that
+will make five chickens for each hen; you see, I leave a large
+margin for loss.  This makes fifty chickens, and when we add the
+ten hens, we have sixty fowls at the end of the first year.  Next
+year I set these sixty and they bring up five chickens each,--I am
+sure there will be a larger proportion than this, but I want to be
+safe,--and that is three hundred chickens; add the hens, and we
+have three hundred and sixty at the end of the second year.  In the
+third year, calculating in the same safe way, we shall have twenty-
+one hundred and sixty chickens; in the fourth year there will be
+twelve thousand nine hundred and sixty, and at the end of the fifth
+year, which is as far as I need to calculate now, we shall have
+sixty-four thousand and eight hundred chickens.  What do you think
+of that?  At seventy-five cents apiece,--a very low price,--that
+would be forty-eight thousand and six hundred dollars.  Now, what
+is the petty cost of a fence, and a few coops, by the side of a sum
+like that?"
+
+"Nothing at all," I answered.  "It is lost like a drop in the
+ocean.  I hate, my dear, to interfere in any way with such a
+splendid calculation as that, but I would like to ask you one
+question."
+
+"Oh, of course," she said, "I suppose you are going to say
+something about the cost of feeding all this poultry.  That is to
+come out of the chickens supposed to die.  They won't die.  It is
+ridiculous to suppose that each hen will bring up but five
+chickens.  The chickens that will live, out of those I consider as
+dead, will more than pay for the feed."
+
+"That is not what I was going to ask you, although of course it
+ought to be considered.  But you know you are only going to set
+common hens, and you do not intend to raise any.  Now, are those
+four hens to do all the setting and mother-work for five years, and
+eventually bring up over sixty-four thousand chickens?"
+
+"Well, I DID make a mistake there," she said, coloring a little.
+"I'll tell you what I'll do; I'll set every one of my hens every
+year."
+
+"But all those chickens may not be hens.  You have calculated that
+every one of them would set as soon as it was old enough."
+
+She stopped a minute to think this over.
+
+"Two heads are better than one, I see," she said, directly.  "I'll
+allow that one-half of all the chickens are roosters, and that will
+make the profits twenty-four thousand three hundred dollars--more
+than enough to buy this place."
+
+"Ever so much more," I cried.  "This Rudder Grange is ours!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+WE CAMP OUT.
+
+
+My wife and I were both so fond of country life and country
+pursuits that month after month passed by at our little farm in a
+succession of delightful days.  Time flew like a "limited express"
+train, and it was September before we knew it.
+
+I had been working very hard at the office that summer, and was
+glad to think of my two weeks' vacation, which were to begin on the
+first Monday of the month.  I had intended spending these two weeks
+in rural retirement at home, but an interview in the city with my
+family physician caused me to change my mind.  I told him my plan.
+
+"Now," said he, "if I were you, I'd do nothing of the kind.  You
+have been working too hard; your face shows it.  You need rest and
+change.  Nothing will do you so much good as to camp out; that will
+be fifty times better than going to any summer resort.  You can
+take your wife with you.  I know she'll like it.  I don't care
+where you go so that it's a healthy spot.  Get a good tent and an
+outfit, be off to the woods, and forget all about business and
+domestic matters for a few weeks."
+
+This sounded splendid, and I propounded the plan to Euphemia that
+evening.  She thought very well of it, and was sure we could do it.
+Pomona would not be afraid to remain in the house, under the
+protection of Lord Edward, and she could easily attend to the cow
+and the chickens.  It would be a holiday for her too.  Old John,
+the man who occasionally worked for us, would come up sometimes and
+see after things.  With her customary dexterity Euphemia swept away
+every obstacle to the plan, and all was settled before we went to
+bed.
+
+As my wife had presumed, Pomona made no objections to remaining in
+charge of the house.  The scheme pleased her greatly.  So far, so
+good.  I called that day on a friend who was in the habit of
+camping out to talk to him about getting a tent and the necessary
+"traps" for a life in the woods.  He proved perfectly competent to
+furnish advice and everything else.  He offered to lend me all I
+needed.  He had a complete outfit; had done with them for the year,
+and I was perfectly welcome.  Here was rare luck.  He gave me a
+tent, camp-stove, dishes, pots, gun, fishing-tackle, a big canvas
+coat with dozens of pockets riveted on it, a canvas hat, rods,
+reels, boots that came up to my hips, and about a wagon-load of
+things in all.  He was a real good fellow.
+
+We laid in a stock of canned and condensed provisions, and I bought
+a book on camping out so as to be well posted on the subject.  On
+the Saturday before the first Monday in September we would have
+been entirely ready to start had we decided on the place where we
+were to go.
+
+We found it very difficult to make this decision.  There were
+thousands of places where people went to camp out, but none of them
+seemed to be the place for us.  Most of them were too far away.  We
+figured up the cost of taking ourselves and our camp equipage to
+the Adirondacks, the lakes, the trout-streams of Maine, or any of
+those well-known resorts, and we found that we could not afford
+such trips, especially for a vacation of but fourteen days.
+
+On Sunday afternoon we took a little walk.  Our minds were still
+troubled about the spot toward which we ought to journey next day,
+and we needed the soothing influences of Nature.  The country to
+the north and west of our little farm was very beautiful.  About
+half a mile from the house a modest river ran; on each side of it
+were grass-covered fields and hills, and in some places there were
+extensive tracks of woodlands.
+
+"Look here!" exclaimed Euphemia, stopping short in the little path
+that wound along by the river bank.  "Do you see this river, those
+woods, those beautiful fields, with not a soul in them or anywhere
+near them; and those lovely blue mountains over there?"--as she
+spoke she waved her parasol in the direction of the objects
+indicated, and I could not mistake them.  "Now what could we want
+better than this?" she continued.  "Here we can fish, and do
+everything that we want to.  I say, let us camp here on our own
+river.  I can take you to the very spot for the tent.  Come on!"
+And she was so excited about it that she fairly ran.
+
+The spot she pointed out was one we had frequently visited in our
+rural walks.  It was a grassy peninsula, as I termed it, formed by
+a sudden turn of a creek which, a short distance below, flowed into
+the river.  It was a very secluded spot.  The place was approached
+through a pasture-field,--we had found it by mere accident,--and
+where the peninsula joined the field (we had to climb a fence just
+there), there was a cluster of chestnut and hickory trees, while
+down near the point stood a wide-spreading oak.
+
+"Here, under this oak, is the place for the tent," said Euphemia,
+her face flushed, her eyes sparkling, and her dress a little torn
+by getting over the fence in a hurry.  "What do we want with your
+Adirondacks and your Dismal Swamps?  This is the spot for us!"
+
+"Euphemia," said I, in as composed a tone as possible, although my
+whole frame was trembling with emotion, "Euphemia, I am glad I
+married you!"
+
+Had it not been Sunday, we would have set up our tent that night.
+
+Early the next morning, old John's fifteen-dollar horse drew from
+our house a wagon-load of camp-fixtures.  There was some difficulty
+in getting the wagon over the field, and there were fences to be
+taken down to allow of its passage; but we overcame all obstacles,
+and reached the camp-ground without breaking so much as a teacup.
+Old John helped me pitch the tent, and as neither of us understood
+the matter very well, it took us some time.  It was, indeed, nearly
+noon when old John left us, and it may have been possible that he
+delayed matters a little so as to be able to charge for a full
+half-day for himself and horse.  Euphemia got into the wagon to
+ride back with him, that she might give some parting injunctions to
+Pomona.
+
+"I'll have to stop a bit to put up the fences, ma'am," said old
+John, "or Misther Ball might make a fuss."
+
+"Is this Mr. Ball's land?" I asked.
+
+"Oh yes, sir, it's Mr. Ball's land."
+
+"I wonder how he'll like our camping on it?" I said, thoughtfully.
+
+"I'd 'a' thought, sir, you'd 'a' asked him that before you came,"
+said old John, in a tone that seemed to indicate that he had his
+doubts about Mr. Ball.
+
+"Oh, there'll be no trouble about that," cried Euphemia.  "You can
+drive me past Mr. Ball's,--it's not much out of the way,--and I'll
+ask him."
+
+"In that wagon?" said I.  "Will you stop at Mr. Ball's door in
+that?"
+
+"Certainly," said she, as she arranged herself on the board which
+served as a seat.  "Now that our campaign has really commenced, we
+ought to begin to rough it, and should not be too proud to ride
+even in a--in a--"
+
+She evidently couldn't think of any vehicle mean enough for her
+purpose.
+
+"In a green-grocery cart," I suggested.
+
+"Yes, or in a red one.  Go ahead, John."
+
+When Euphemia returned on foot, I had a fire in the camp-stove and
+the kettle was on.
+
+"Well," said Euphemia, "Mr. Ball says it's all right, if we keep
+the fence up.  He don't want his cows to get into the creek, and
+I'm sure we don't want 'em walking over us.  He couldn't
+understand, though, why we wanted to live out here.  I explained
+the whole thing to him very carefully, but it didn't seem to make
+much impression on him.  I believe he thinks Pomona has something
+the matter with her, and that we have come to stay out here in the
+fresh air so as not to take it."
+
+"What an extremely stupid man Mr. Ball must be!" I said.
+
+The fire did not burn very well, and while I was at work at it,
+Euphemia spread a cloth upon the grass, and set forth bread and
+butter, cheese, sardines, potted ham, preserves, biscuits, and a
+lot of other things.
+
+We did not wait for the kettle to boil, but concluded to do without
+tea or coffee, for this meal, and content ourselves with pure
+water.  For some reason or other, however, the creek water did not
+seem to be very pure, and we did not like it a bit.
+
+"After lunch," said I, "we will go and look for a spring; that will
+be a good way of exploring the country."
+
+"If we can't find one," said Euphemia, "we shall have to go to the
+house for water, for I can never drink that stuff."
+
+Soon after lunch we started out.  We searched high and low, near
+and far, for a spring, but could not find one.
+
+At length, by merest accident, we found ourselves in the vicinity
+of old John's little house.  I knew he had a good well, and so we
+went in to get a drink, for our ham and biscuits had made us very
+thirsty.
+
+We told old John, who was digging potatoes, and was also very much
+surprised to see us so soon, about our unexpected trouble in
+finding a spring.
+
+"No," said he, very slowly, "there is no spring very near to you.
+Didn't you tell your gal to bring you water?"
+
+"No," I replied; "we don't want her coming down to the camp.  She
+is to attend to the house."
+
+"Oh, very well," said John; "I will bring you water, morning and
+night,--good, fresh water,--from my well, for,--well, for ten cents
+a day."
+
+"That will be nice," said Euphemia, "and cheap, too.  And then it
+will be well to have John come every day; he can carry our
+letters."
+
+"I don't expect to write any letters."
+
+"Neither do I," said Euphemia; "but it will be pleasant to have
+some communication with the outer world."
+
+So we engaged old John to bring us water twice a day.  I was a
+little disappointed at this, for I thought that camping on the edge
+of a stream settled the matter of water.  But we have many things
+to learn in this world.
+
+Early in the afternoon I went out to catch some fish for supper.
+We agreed to dispense with dinner, and have breakfast, lunch, and a
+good solid supper.
+
+For some time I had poor luck.  There were either very few fish in
+the creek, or they were not hungry.
+
+I had been fishing an hour or more when I saw Euphemia running
+toward me.
+
+"What's the matter?" said I.
+
+"Oh! nothing.  I've just come to see how you were getting along.
+Haven't you been gone an awfully long time?  And are those all the
+fish you've caught?  What little bits of things they are!  I
+thought people who camped out caught big fish and lots of them?"
+
+"That depends a good deal upon where they go," said I.
+
+"Yes, I suppose so," replied Euphemia; "but I should think a stream
+as big as this would have plenty of fish in it.  However, if you
+can't catch any, you might go up to the road and watch for Mr.
+Mulligan.  He sometimes comes along on Mondays."
+
+"I'm not going to the road to watch for any fish-man," I replied, a
+little more testily than I should have spoken.  "What sort of a
+camping out would that be?  But we must not be talking here or I
+shall never get a bite.  Those fish are a little soiled from
+jumping about in the dust.  You might wash them off at that shallow
+place, while I go a little further on and try my luck."
+
+I went a short distance up the creek, and threw my line into a
+dark, shadowy pool, under some alders, where there certainly should
+be fish.  And, sure enough, in less than a minute I got a splendid
+bite,--not only a bite, but a pull.  I knew that I had certainly
+hooked a big fish!  The thing actually tugged at my line so that I
+was afraid the pole would break.  I did not fear for the line, for
+that, I knew, was strong.  I would have played the fish until he
+was tired, and I could pull him out without risk to the pole, but I
+did not know exactly how the process of "playing" was conducted.  I
+was very much excited.  Sometimes I gave a jerk and a pull, and
+then the fish would give a jerk and a pull.
+
+Directly I heard some one running toward me, and then I heard
+Euphemia cry out:
+
+"Give him the butt!  Give him the butt!"
+
+"Give him what?" I exclaimed, without having time even to look up
+at her.
+
+"The butt! the butt!" she cried, almost breathlessly.  "I know
+that's right!  I read how Edward Everett Hale did it in the
+Adirondacks."
+
+"No, it wasn't Hale at all," said I, as I jumped about the bank;
+"it was Mr. Murray."
+
+"Well, it was one of those fishing ministers, and I know that it
+caught the fish."
+
+"I know, I know.  I read it, but I don't know how to do it."
+
+"Perhaps you ought to punch him with it," said she.
+
+"No! no!" I hurriedly replied, "I can't do anything like that.  I'm
+going to try to just pull him out lengthwise.  You take hold of the
+pole and go in shore as far as you can and I'll try and get hold of
+the line."
+
+Euphemia did as I bade her, and drew the line in so that I could
+reach it.  As soon as I had a firm hold of it, I pulled in,
+regardless of consequences, and hauled ashore an enormous cat-fish.
+
+"Hurrah!" I shouted, "here is a prize."
+
+Euphemia dropped the pole, and ran to me.
+
+"What a horrid beast!" she exclaimed.  "Throw it in again."
+
+"Not at all!" said I.  "This is a splendid fish, if I can ever get
+him off the hook.  Don't come near him!  If he sticks that back-fin
+into you, it will poison you."
+
+"Then I should think it would poison us to eat him," said she.
+
+"No; it's only his fin."
+
+"I've eaten cat-fish, but I never saw one like that," she said.
+"Look at its horrible mouth!  And it has whiskers like a cat!"
+
+"Oh! you never saw one with its head on," I said.  "What I want to
+do is to get this hook out."
+
+I had caught cat-fish before, but never one so large as this, and I
+was actually afraid to take hold of it, knowing, as I did, that you
+must be very careful how you clutch a fish of the kind.  I finally
+concluded to carry it home as it was, and then I could decapitate
+it, and take out the hook at my leisure.  So back to camp we went,
+Euphemia picking up the little fish as we passed, for she did not
+think it right to catch fish and not eat them.  They made her hands
+smell, it is true; but she did not mind that when we were camping.
+
+I prepared the big fish (and I had a desperate time getting the
+skin off), while my wife, who is one of the daintiest cooks in the
+world, made the fire in the stove, and got ready the rest of the
+supper.  She fried the fish, because I told her that was the way
+cat-fish ought to be cooked, although she said that it seemed very
+strange to her to camp out for the sake of one's health, and then
+to eat fried food.
+
+But that fish was splendid!  The very smell of it made us hungry.
+Everything was good, and when supper was over and the dishes
+washed, I lighted my pipe and we sat down under a tree to enjoy the
+evening.
+
+The sun had set behind the distant ridge; a delightful twilight was
+gently subduing every color of the scene; the night insects were
+beginning to hum and chirp, and a fire that I had made under a tree
+blazed up gayly, and threw little flakes of light into the shadows
+under the shrubbery.
+
+"Now isn't this better than being cooped up in a narrow,
+constricted house?" said I.
+
+"Ever so much better!" said Euphemia.  "Now we know what Nature is.
+We are sitting right down in her lap, and she is cuddling us up.
+Isn't that sky lovely?  Oh! I think this is perfectly splendid,"
+said she, making a little dab at her face,--"if it wasn't for the
+mosquitoes."
+
+"They ARE bad," I said.  "I thought my pipe would keep them off,
+but it don't.  There must be plenty of them down at that creek."
+
+"Down there!" exclaimed Euphemia.  "Why there are thousands of them
+here!  I never saw anything like it.  They're getting worse every
+minute."
+
+"I'll tell you what we must do," I exclaimed, jumping up.  "We must
+make a smudge."
+
+"What's that? do you rub it on yourself?" asked Euphemia,
+anxiously.
+
+"No, it's only a great smoke.  Come, let us gather up dry leaves
+and make a smoldering fire of them."
+
+We managed to get up a very fair smudge, and we stood to the
+leeward of it, until Euphemia began to cough and sneeze, as if her
+head would come off.  With tears running from her eyes, she
+declared that she would rather go and be eaten alive, than stay in
+that smoke.
+
+"Perhaps we were too near it," said I.
+
+"That may be," she answered, "but I have had enough smoke.  Why
+didn't I think of it before?  I brought two veils!  We can put
+these over our faces, and wear gloves."
+
+She was always full of expedients.
+
+Veiled and gloved, we bade defiance to the mosquitoes, and we sat
+and talked for half an hour or more.  I made a little hole in my
+veil, through which I put the mouth-piece of my pipe.
+
+When it became really dark, I lighted the lantern, and we prepared
+for a well-earned night's rest.  The tent was spacious and
+comfortable, and we each had a nice little cot-bed.
+
+"Are you going to leave the front-door open all night?" said
+Euphemia, as I came in after a final round to see that all was
+right.
+
+"I should hardly call this canvas-flap a front-door," I said, "but
+I think it would be better to leave it open; otherwise we should
+smother.  You need not be afraid.  I shall keep my gun here by my
+bedside, and if any one offers to come in, I'll bring him to a full
+stop quick enough."
+
+"Yes, if you are awake.  But I suppose we ought not to be afraid of
+burglars here.  People in tents never are.  So you needn't shut
+it."
+
+It was awfully quiet and dark and lonely, out there by that creek,
+when the light had been put out, and we had gone to bed.  For some
+reason I could not go to sleep.  After I had been lying awake for
+an hour or two, Euphemia spoke:
+
+"Are you awake?" said she, in a low voice, as if she were afraid of
+disturbing the people in the next room.
+
+"Yes," said I.  "How long have you been awake?"
+
+"I haven't been asleep."
+
+"Neither have I."
+
+"Suppose we light the lantern," said she.  "Don't you think it
+would be pleasanter?"
+
+"It might be," I replied; "but it would draw myriads of mosquitoes.
+I wish I had brought a mosquito-net and a clock.  It seems so
+lonesome without the ticking.  Good-night!  We ought to have a long
+sleep, if we do much tramping about to-morrow."
+
+In about half an hour more, just as I was beginning to be a little
+sleepy, she said:
+
+"Where is that gun?"
+
+"Here by me," I answered.
+
+"Well, if a man should come in, try and be sure to put it up close
+to him before you fire.  In a little tent like this, the shot might
+scatter everywhere, if you're not careful."
+
+"All right," I said.  "Good-night!"
+
+"There's one thing we never thought of!" she presently exclaimed.
+
+"What's that," said I.
+
+"Snakes," said she.
+
+"Well, don't let's think of them.  We must try and get a little
+sleep."
+
+"Dear knows!  I've been trying hard enough," she said, plaintively,
+and all was quiet again.
+
+We succeeded this time in going to sleep, and it was broad daylight
+before we awoke.
+
+That morning, old John came with our water before breakfast was
+ready.  He also brought us some milk, as he thought we would want
+it.  We considered this a good idea, and agreed with him to bring
+us a quart a day.
+
+"Don't you want some wegetables?" said he.  "I've got some nice
+corn and some tomatoes, and I could bring you cabbage and peas."
+
+We had hardly expected to have fresh vegetables every day, but
+there seemed to be no reason why old John should not bring them, as
+he had to come every day with the water and milk.  So we arranged
+that he should furnish us daily with a few of the products of his
+garden.
+
+"I could go to the butcher's and get you a steak or some chops, if
+you'd let me know in the morning," said he, intent on the profits
+of further commissions.
+
+But this was going too far.  We remembered we were camping out, and
+declined to have meat from the butcher.
+
+John had not been gone more than ten minutes before we saw Mr. Ball
+approaching.
+
+"Oh, I hope he isn't going to say we can't stay!" exclaimed
+Euphemia.
+
+"How d'ye do?" said Mr. Ball, shaking hands with us.  "Did you
+stick it out all night?"
+
+"Oh yes, indeed," I replied, "and expect to stick it out for a many
+more nights if you don't object to our occupying your land."
+
+"No objection in the world," said he; "but it seems a little queer
+for people who have a good house to be living out here in the
+fields in a tent, now, don't it?"
+
+"Oh, but you see," said I, and I went on and explained the whole
+thing to him,--the advice of the doctor, the discussion about the
+proper place to go to, and the good reasons for fixing on this
+spot.
+
+"Ye-es," said he, "that's all very well, no doubt.  But how's the
+girl?"
+
+"What girl?" I asked.
+
+"Your girl.  The hired girl you left at the house."
+
+"Oh, she's all right," said I; "she's always well."
+
+"Well," said Mr. Ball, slowly turning on his heel, "if you say so,
+I suppose she is.  But you're going up to the house to-day to see
+about her, aren't you?"
+
+"Oh, no," said Euphemia.  "We don't intend to go near the house
+until our camping is over."
+
+"Just so,--just so," said Mr. Ball; "I expected as much.  But look
+here, don't you think it would be well for me to ask Dr. Ames to
+stop in and see how she is gettin' along?  I dare say you've fixed
+everything for her, but that would be safer, you know.  He's coming
+this morning to vaccinate my baby, and he might stop there, just as
+well as not, after he has left my house."
+
+Euphemia and I could see no necessity for this proposed visit of
+the doctor, but we could not well object to it, and so Mr. Ball
+said he would be sure and send him.
+
+After our visitor had gone, the significance of his remarks flashed
+on me.  He still thought that Pomona was sick with something
+catching, and that we were afraid to stay in the house with her.
+But I said nothing about this to Euphemia.  It would only worry
+her, and our vacation was to be a season of unalloyed delight.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+WET BLANKETS.
+
+
+We certainly enjoyed our second day in camp.  All the morning, and
+a great part of the afternoon, we "explored."  We fastened up the
+tent as well as we could, and then, I with my gun, and Euphemia
+with the fishing-pole, we started up the creek.  We did not go very
+far, for it would not do to leave the tent too long.  I did not
+shoot anything, but Euphemia caught two or three nice little fish,
+and we enjoyed the sport exceedingly.
+
+Soon after we returned in the afternoon, and while we were getting
+things in order for supper, we had a call from two of our
+neighbors, Captain Atkinson and wife.  The captain greeted us
+hilariously.
+
+"Hello!" he cried.  "Why, this is gay.  Who would ever have thought
+of a domestic couple like you going on such a lark as this.  We
+just heard about it from old John, and we came down to see what you
+are up to.  You've got everything very nice.  I think I'd like this
+myself.  Why, you might have a rifle-range out here.  You could cut
+down those bushes on the other side of the creek, and put up your
+target over there on that hill.  Then you could lie down here on
+the grass and bang away all day.  If you'll do that, I'll come down
+and practice with you.  How long are you going to keep it up?"
+
+I told him that we expected to spend my two weeks' vacation here.
+
+"Not if it rains, my boy," said he.  "I know what it is to camp out
+in the rain."
+
+Meanwhile, Mrs. Atkinson had been with Euphemia examining the tent,
+and our equipage generally.
+
+"It would be very nice for a day's picnic," she said; "but I
+wouldn't want to stay out-of-doors all night."
+
+And then, addressing me, she asked:
+
+"Do you have to breathe the fresh air all the time, night as well
+as day?  I expect that is a very good prescription, but I would not
+like to have to follow it myself."
+
+"If the fresh air is what you must have," said the captain, "you
+might have got all you wanted of that without taking the trouble to
+come out here.  You could have sat out on your back porch night and
+day for the whole two weeks, and breathed all the fresh air that
+any man could need."
+
+"Yes," said I, "and I might have gone down cellar and put my head
+in the cold-air box of the furnace.  But there wouldn't have been
+much fun in that."
+
+"There are a good many things that there's no fun in," said the
+captain.  "Do you cook your own meals, or have them sent from the
+house?"
+
+"Cook them ourselves, of course," said Euphemia.  "We are going to
+have supper now.  Won't you wait and take some?"
+
+"Thank you," said Mrs. Atkinson, "but we must go."
+
+"Yes, we must be going," said the captain.  "Good-bye.  If it rains
+I'll come down after you with an umbrella."
+
+"You need not trouble yourself about that," said I.  "We shall
+rough it out, rain or shine."
+
+"I'd stay here now," said Euphemia, when they had gone, "if it
+rained pitch."
+
+"You mean pitchforks," I suggested.
+
+"Yes, anything," she answered.
+
+"Well, I don't know about the pitchforks," I said, looking over the
+creek at the sky; "but am very much afraid that it is going to rain
+rain-water to-morrow.  But that won't drive us home, will it?"
+
+"No, indeed!" said she.  "We're prepared for it.  But I wish they'd
+staid at home."
+
+Sure enough, it commenced to rain that night, and we had showers
+all the next day.  We staid in camp during the morning, and I
+smoked and we played checkers, and had a very cosy time, with a
+wood fire burning under a tree near by.  We kept up this fire, not
+to dry the air, but to make things look comfortable.  In the
+afternoon I dressed myself up in water-proof coat, boots and hat,
+and went out fishing.  I went down to the water and fished along
+the banks for an hour, but caught nothing of any consequence.  This
+was a great disappointment, for we had expected to live on fresh
+fish for a great part of the time while we were camping.  With
+plenty of fish, we could do without meat very well.
+
+We talked the matter over on my return, and we agreed that as it
+seemed impossible to depend upon a supply of fish, from the waters
+about our camp, it would be better to let old John bring fresh meat
+from the butcher, and as neither of us liked crackers, we also
+agreed that he should bring bread.
+
+Our greatest trouble, that evening, was to make a fire.  The wood,
+of which there was a good deal lying about under the trees, was now
+all wet and would not burn.  However, we managed to get up a fire
+in the stove, but I did not know what we were going to do in the
+morning.  We should have stored away some wood under shelter.
+
+We set our little camp-table in the tent, and we had scarcely
+finished our supper, when a very heavy rain set in, accompanied by
+a violent wind.  The canvas at one end of our tent must have been
+badly fastened, for it was blown in, and in an instant our beds
+were deluged.  I rushed out to fasten up the canvas, and got
+drenched almost to the skin, and although Euphemia put on her
+waterproof cloak as soon as she could, she was pretty wet, for the
+rain seemed to dash right through the tent.
+
+This gust of wind did not last long, and the rain soon settled down
+into a steady drizzle, but we were in a sad plight.  It was after
+nine o'clock before we had put things into tolerable order.
+
+"We can't sleep in those beds," said Euphemia.
+
+"They're as wet as sop, and we shall have to go up to the house and
+get something to spread over them.  I don't want to do it, but we
+mustn't catch our deaths of cold."
+
+There was nothing to be said against this, and we prepared to start
+out.  I would have gone by myself, but Euphemia would not consent
+to be left alone.  It was still raining, though not very hard, and
+I carried an umbrella and a lantern.  Climbing fences at night with
+a wife, a lantern, and an umbrella to take care of, is not very
+agreeable, but we managed to reach the house, although once or
+twice we had an argument in regard to the path, which seemed to be
+very different at night from what it was in the day-time.
+
+Lord Edward came bounding to the gate to meet us, and I am happy to
+say that he knew me at once, and wagged his tail in a very sociable
+way.
+
+I had the key of a side-door in my pocket, for we had thought it
+wise to give ourselves command of this door, and so we let
+ourselves in without ringing or waking Pomona.
+
+All was quiet within, and we went upstairs with the lantern.
+Everything seemed clean and in order, and it is impossible to
+convey any idea of the element of comfort which seemed to pervade
+the house, as we quietly made our way upstairs, in our wet boots
+and heavy, damp clothes.
+
+The articles we wanted were in a closet, and while I was making a
+bundle of them, Euphemia went to look for Pomona.  She soon
+returned, walking softly.
+
+"She's sound asleep," said she, "and I didn't think there was any
+need of waking her.  We'll send word by John that we've been here.
+And oh! you can't imagine how snug and happy she did look, lying
+there in her comfortable bed, in that nice, airy room.  I'll tell
+you what it is, if it wasn't for the neighbors, and especially the
+Atkinsons, I wouldn't go back one step."
+
+"Well," said I, "I don't know that I care so particularly about it,
+myself.  But I suppose I couldn't stay here and leave all
+Thompson's things out there to take care of themselves."
+
+"Oh no!" said Euphemia.  "And we're not going to back down.  Are
+you ready?"
+
+On our way down-stairs we had to pass the partly open door of our
+own room.  I could not help holding up the lantern to look in.
+There was the bed, with its fair white covering and its smooth,
+soft pillows; there were the easy-chairs, the pretty curtains, the
+neat and cheerful carpet, the bureau, with Euphemia's work-basket
+on it; there was the little table with the book that we had been
+reading together, turned face downward upon it; there were my
+slippers; there was--
+
+"Come!" said Euphemia, "I can't bear to look in there.  It's like a
+dead child."
+
+And so we hurried out into the night and the rain.  We stopped at
+the wood-shed and got an armful of dry kindling, which Euphemia was
+obliged to carry, as I had the bundle of bed-clothing, the
+umbrella, and the lantern.
+
+Lord Edward gave a short, peculiar bark as we shut the gate behind
+us, but whether it was meant as a fond farewell, or a hoot of
+derision, I cannot say.
+
+We found everything as we left it at the camp, and we made our beds
+apparently dry.  But I did not sleep well.  I could not help
+thinking that it was not safe to sleep in a bed with a substratum
+of wet mattress, and I worried Euphemia a little by asking her
+several times if she felt the dampness striking through.
+
+To our great delight, the next day was fine and clear, and I
+thought I would like, better than anything else, to take Euphemia
+in a boat up the river and spend the day rowing about, or resting
+in shady places on the shore.
+
+But what could we do about the tent?  It would be impossible to go
+away and leave that, with its contents, for a whole day.
+
+When old John came with our water, milk, bread, and a basket of
+vegetables, we told him of our desired excursion, and the
+difficulty in the way.  This good man, who always had a keen scent
+for any advantage to himself, warmly praised the boating plan, and
+volunteered to send his wife and two of his younger children to
+stay with the tent while we were away.
+
+The old woman, he said, could do her sewing here as well as
+anywhere, and she would stay all day for fifty cents.
+
+This plan pleased us, and we sent for Mrs. Old John, who came with
+three of her children,--all too young to leave behind, she said,--
+and took charge of the camp.
+
+Our day proved to be as delightful as we had anticipated, and when
+we returned, hungry and tired, we were perfectly charmed to find
+that Mrs. Old John had our supper ready for us.
+
+She charged a quarter, extra, for this service, and we did not
+begrudge it to her, though we declined her offer to come every day
+and cook and keep the place in order.
+
+"However," said Euphemia, on second thoughts, "you may come on
+Saturday and clean up generally."
+
+The next day, which was Friday, I went out in the morning with the
+gun.  As yet I had shot nothing, for I had seen no birds about the
+camp, which, without breaking the State laws, I thought I could
+kill, and so I started off up the river-road.
+
+I saw no game, but after I had walked about a mile, I met a man in
+a wagon.
+
+"Hello," said he, pulling up; "you'd better be careful how you go
+popping around here on the public roads, frightening horses."
+
+As I had not yet fired a single shot, I thought this was a very
+impudent speech, and I think so still.
+
+"You had better wait until I begin to pop," said I, "before you
+make such a fuss about it."
+
+"No," said he, "I'd rather make the fuss before you begin.  My
+horse is skittish," and he drove off.
+
+This man annoyed me; but as I did not, of course, wish to frighten
+horses, I left the road and made my way back to the tent over some
+very rough fields.  It was a poor day for birds, and I did not get
+a shot.
+
+"What a foolish man!" said Euphemia, when I told her the above
+incident, "to talk that way when you stood there with a gun in your
+hand.  You might have raked his wagon, fore and aft."
+
+That afternoon, as Euphemia and I were sitting under a tree by the
+tent, we were very much surprised to see Pomona come walking down
+the peninsula.
+
+I was annoyed and provoked at this.  We had given Pomona positive
+orders not to leave the place, under any pretense, while we were
+gone.  If necessary to send for anything, she could go to the
+fence, back of the barn, and scream across a small field to some of
+the numerous members of old John's family.  Under this arrangement,
+I felt that the house was perfectly safe.
+
+Before she could reach us, I called out:
+
+"Why did you leave the house, Pomona?  Don't you know you should
+never come away and leave the house empty?  I thought I had made
+you understand that."
+
+"It isn't empty," said Pomona, in an entirely unruffled tone.
+"Your old boarder is there, with his wife and child."
+
+Euphemia and I looked at each other in dismay.
+
+"They came early this afternoon," continued Pomona, "by the 1:14
+train, and walked up, he carrying the child."
+
+"It can't be," cried Euphemia.  "Their child's married."
+
+"It must have married very young, then," said Pomona, "for it isn't
+over four years old now."
+
+"Oh!" said Euphemia, "I know!  It's his grandchild."
+
+"Grandchild!" repeated Pomona, with her countenance more expressive
+of emotion than I had ever yet seen it.
+
+"Yes," said Euphemia; "but how long are they going to stay?  Where
+did you tell them we were?"
+
+"They didn't say how long they was goin' to stay," answered Pomona.
+"I told them you had gone to be with some friends in the country,
+and that I didn't know whether you'd be home to-night or not."
+
+"How could you tell them such a falsehood?" cried Euphemia.
+
+"That was no falsehood," said Pomona; "it was true as truth.  If
+you're not your own friends, I don't know who is.  And I wasn't a-
+goin' to tell the boarder where you was till I found out whether
+you wanted me to do it or not.  And so I left 'em and run over to
+old John's, and then down here."
+
+It was impossible to find fault with the excellent management of
+Pomona.
+
+"What were they doing?" asked Euphemia.
+
+"I opened the parlor, and she was in there with the child,--putting
+it to sleep on the sofa, I think.  The boarder was out in the yard,
+tryin' to teach Lord Edward some tricks."
+
+"He had better look out!" I exclaimed.
+
+"Oh, the dog's chained and growlin' fearful!  What am I to do with
+'em?"
+
+This was a difficult point to decide.  If we went to see them, we
+might as well break up our camp, for we could not tell when we
+should be able to come back to it.
+
+We discussed the matter very anxiously, and finally concluded that
+under the circumstances, and considering what Pomona had said about
+our whereabouts, it would be well for us to stay where we were and
+for Pomona to take charge of the visitors.  If they returned to the
+city that evening, she was to give them a good supper before they
+went, sending John to the store for what was needed.  If they
+stayed all night, she could get breakfast for them.
+
+"We can write," said Euphemia, "and invite them to come and spend
+some days with us, when we are at home and everything is all right.
+I want dreadfully to see that child, but I don't see how I can do
+it now."
+
+"No," said I.  "They're sure to stay all night if we go up to the
+house, and then I should have to have the tent and things hauled
+away, for I couldn't leave them here."
+
+"The fact is," said Euphemia, "if we were miles away, in the woods
+of Maine, we couldn't leave our camp to see anybody.  And this is
+practically the same."
+
+"Certainly," said I; and so Pomona went away to her new charge.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE BOARDER'S VISIT.
+
+
+For the rest of the afternoon, and indeed far into the night, our
+conversation consisted almost entirely of conjectures regarding the
+probable condition of things at the house.  We both thought we had
+done right, but we felt badly about it.  It was not hospitable, to
+be sure; but then I should have no other holiday until next year,
+and our friends could come at any time to see us.
+
+The next morning old John brought a note from Pomona.  It was
+written with pencil on a small piece of paper torn from the margin
+of a newspaper, and contained the words, "Here yit."
+
+"So you've got company," said old John, with a smile.  "That's a
+queer gal of yourn.  She says I mustn't tell 'em you're here.  As
+if I'd tell 'em!"
+
+We knew well enough that old John was not at all likely to do
+anything that would cut off the nice little revenue he was making
+out of our camp, and so we felt no concern on that score.
+
+But we were very anxious for further news, and we told old John to
+go to the house about ten o'clock and ask Pomona to send us another
+note.
+
+We waited, in a very disturbed condition of mind, until nearly
+eleven o'clock, when old John came with a verbal message from
+Pomona:
+
+"She says she's a-comin' herself as soon as she can get a chance to
+slip off."
+
+This was not pleasant news.  It filled our minds with a confused
+mass of probabilities, and it made us feel mean.  How contemptible
+it seemed to be a party to this concealment and in league with a
+servant-girl who has to "slip off!"
+
+Before long, Pomona appeared, quite out of breath.
+
+"In all my life," said she, "I never see people like them two.  I
+thought I was never goin' to get away."
+
+"Are they there yet?" cried Euphemia.
+
+"How long are they going to stay?"
+
+"Dear knows!" replied Pomona.  "Their valise came up by express
+last night."
+
+"Oh, we'll have to go up to the house," said Euphemia.  "It won't
+do to stay away any longer."
+
+"Well," said Pomona, fanning herself with her apron, "if you know'd
+all I know, I don't think you'd think so."
+
+"What do you mean?" said Euphemia.
+
+"Well, ma'am, they've just settled down and taken possession of the
+whole place.  He says to me that he know'd you'd both want them to
+make themselves at home, just as if you was there, and they thought
+they'd better do it.  He asked me did I think you would be home by
+Monday, and I said I didn't know, but I guessed you would.  So says
+he to his wife, 'Won't that be a jolly lark?  We'll just keep house
+for them here till they come.  And he says he would go down to the
+store and order some things, if there wasn't enough in the house,
+and he asked her to see what would be needed, which she did, and
+he's gone down for 'em now.  And she says that, as it was Saturday,
+she'd see that the house was all put to rights; and after breakfast
+she set me to sweepin'; and it's only by way of her dustin' the
+parlor and givin' me the little girl to take for a walk that I got
+off at all."
+
+"But what have you done with the child?" exclaimed Euphemia.
+
+"Oh, I left her at old Johnses."
+
+"And so you think they're pleased with having the house to
+themselves?" I said.
+
+"Pleased, sir?" replied Pomona; "they're tickled to death."
+
+"But how do you like having strangers telling you what to do?"
+asked Euphemia.
+
+"Oh, well," said Pomona, "he's no stranger, and she's real
+pleasant, and if it gives you a good camp out, I don't mind."
+
+Euphemia and I looked at each other.  Here was true allegiance.  We
+would remember this.
+
+Pomona now hurried off, and we seriously discussed the matter, and
+soon came to the conclusion that while it might be the truest
+hospitality to let our friends stay at our house for a day or two
+and enjoy themselves, still it would not do for us to allow
+ourselves to be governed by a too delicate sentimentality.  We must
+go home and act our part of host and hostess.
+
+Mrs. Old John had been at the camp ever since breakfast-time,
+giving the place a Saturday cleaning.  What she had found to occupy
+her for so long a time I could not imagine, but in her efforts to
+put in a full half-day's work, I have no doubt she scrubbed some of
+the trees.  We had been so fully occupied with our own affairs that
+we had paid very little attention to her, but she had probably
+heard pretty much all that had been said.
+
+At noon we paid her (giving her, at her suggestion, something extra
+in lieu of the midday meal, which she did not stay to take), and
+told her to send her husband, with his wagon, as soon as possible,
+as we intended to break up our encampment.  We determined that we
+would pack everything in John's wagon, and let him take the load to
+his house, and keep it there until Monday, when I would have the
+tent and accompaniments expressed to their owner.  We would go home
+and join our friends.  It would not be necessary to say where we
+had been.
+
+It was hard for us to break up our camp.  In many respects we had
+enjoyed the novel experience, and we had fully expected, during the
+next week, to make up for all our short-comings and mistakes.  It
+seemed like losing all our labor and expenditure, to break up now,
+but there was no help for it.  Our place was at home.
+
+We did not wish to invite our friends to the camp.  They would
+certainly have come had they known we were there, but we had no
+accommodations for them, neither had we any desire for even
+transient visitors.  Besides, we both thought that we would prefer
+that our ex-boarder and his wife should not know that we were
+encamped on that little peninsula.
+
+We set to work to pack up and get ready for moving, but the
+afternoon passed away without bringing old John.  Between five and
+six o'clock along came his oldest boy, with a bucket of water.
+
+"I'm to go back after the milk," he said.
+
+"Hold up!" I cried.  "Where is your father and his wagon?  We've
+been waiting for him for hours."
+
+"The horse is si--  I mean he's gone to Ballville for oats."
+
+"And why didn't he send and tell me?" I asked.
+
+"There wasn't nobody to send," answered the boy.
+
+"You are not telling the truth," exclaimed Euphemia; "there is
+always some one to send, in a family like yours."
+
+To this the boy made no answer, but again said that he would go
+after the milk.
+
+"We want you to bring no milk," I cried, now quite angry.  "I want
+you to go down to the station, and tell the driver of the express-
+wagon to come here immediately.  Do you understand?  Immediately."
+
+The boy declared he understood, and started off quite willingly.
+We did not prefer to have the express-wagon, for it was too public
+a conveyance, and, besides, old John knew exactly how to do what
+was required.  But we need not have troubled ourselves.  The
+express-wagon did not come.
+
+When it became dark, we saw that we could not leave that night.
+Even if a wagon did come, it would not be safe to drive over the
+fields in the darkness.  And we could not go away and leave the
+camp-equipage.  I proposed that Euphemia should go up to the house,
+while I remained in camp.  But she declined.  We would keep
+together, whatever happened, she said.
+
+We unpacked our cooking-utensils and provisions, and had supper.
+There was no milk for our coffee, but we did not care.  The evening
+did not pass gayly.  We were annoyed by the conduct of old John and
+the express-boy, though, perhaps, it was not their fault.  I had
+given them no notice that I should need them.
+
+And we were greatly troubled at the continuance of the secrecy and
+subterfuge which now had become really necessary, if we did not
+wish to hurt our friends' feelings.
+
+The first thing that I thought of, when I opened my eyes in the
+morning, was the fact that we would have to stay there all day, for
+we could not move on Sunday.
+
+But Euphemia did not agree with me.  After breakfast (we found that
+the water and the milk had been brought very early, before we were
+up) she stated that she did not intend to be treated in this way.
+She was going up to old John's house herself; and away she went.
+
+In less than half an hour, she returned, followed by old John and
+his wife, both looking much as if they had been whipped.
+
+"These people," said she, "have entered into a conspiracy against
+us.  I have questioned them thoroughly, and have made them answer
+me.  The horse was at home yesterday, and the boy did not go after
+the express-wagon.  They thought that if they could keep us here,
+until our company had gone, we would stay as long as we originally
+intended, and they would continue to make money out of us.  But
+they are mistaken.  We are going home immediately."
+
+At this point I could not help thinking that Euphemia might have
+consulted me in regard to her determination, but she was very much
+in earnest, and I would not have any discussion before these
+people.
+
+"Now, listen!" said Euphemia, addressing the down-cast couple, "we
+are going home, and you two are to stay here all this day and to-
+night, and take care of these things.  You can't work to-day, and
+you can shut up your house, and bring your whole family here if you
+choose.  We will pay you for the service,--although you do not
+deserve a cent,--and we will leave enough here for you to eat.  You
+must bring your own sheets and pillowcases, and stay here until we
+see you on Monday morning."
+
+Old John and his wife agreed to this plan with the greatest
+alacrity, apparently well pleased to get off so easily; and, having
+locked up the smaller articles of camp-furniture, we filled a
+valise with our personal baggage and started off home.
+
+Our house and grounds never looked prettier than they did that
+morning, as we stood at the gate.  Lord Edward barked a welcome
+from his shed, and before we reached the door, Pomona came running
+out, her face radiant.
+
+"I'm awful glad to see you back," she said; "though I'd never have
+said so while you was in camp."
+
+I patted the dog and looked into the garden.  Everything was
+growing splendidly.  Euphemia rushed to the chicken-yard.  It was
+in first-rate order, and there were two broods of little yellow
+puffy chicks.
+
+Down on her knees went my wife, to pick up the little creatures,
+one by one, press their downy bodies to her cheek, and call them
+tootsy-wootsies, and away went I to the barn, followed by Pomona,
+and soon afterward by Euphemia.
+
+The cow was all right.
+
+"I've been making butter," said Pomona, "though it don't look
+exactly like it ought to, yet, and the skim-milk I didn't know what
+to do with, so I gave it to old John.  He came for it every day,
+and was real mad once because I had given a lot of it to the dog,
+and couldn't let him have but a pint."
+
+"He ought to have been mad," said I to Euphemia, as we walked up to
+the house.  "He got ten cents a quart for that milk."
+
+We laughed, and didn't care.  We were too glad to be at home.
+
+"But where are our friends?" I asked Pomona.  We had actually
+forgotten them.
+
+"Oh! they're gone out for a walk," said she.  "They started off
+right after breakfast."
+
+We were not sorry for this.  It would be so much nicer to see our
+dear home again when there was nobody there but ourselves.  In-
+doors we rushed.  Our absence had been like rain on a garden.
+Everything now seemed fresher and brighter and more delightful.  We
+went from room to room, and seemed to appreciate better than ever
+what a charming home we had.
+
+We were so full of the delights of our return that we forgot all
+about the Sunday dinner and our guests, but Pomona, whom my wife
+was training to be an excellent cook, did not forget, and Euphemia
+was summoned to a consultation in the kitchen.
+
+Dinner was late; but our guests were later.  We waited as long as
+the state of the provisions and our appetites would permit, and
+then we sat down to the table and began to eat slowly.  But they
+did not come.  We finished our meal, and they were still absent.
+We now became quite anxious, and I proposed to Euphemia that we
+should go and look for them.
+
+We started out, and our steps naturally turned toward the river.
+An unpleasant thought began to crowd itself into my mind, and
+perhaps the same thing happened to Euphemia, for, without saying
+anything to each other, we both turned toward the path that led to
+the peninsula.  We crossed the field, climbed the fence, and there,
+in front of the tent sat our old boarder splitting sticks with the
+camp-hatchet.
+
+"Hurrah!" he cried, springing to his feet when he saw us.  "How
+glad I am to see you back!  When did you return?  Isn't this
+splendid?"
+
+"What?" I said, as we shook hands.
+
+"Why this," he cried, pointing to the tent.  "Don't you see?  We're
+camping out."
+
+"You are?" I exclaimed, looking around for his wife, while Euphemia
+stood motionless, actually unable to make a remark.
+
+"Certainly we are.  It's the rarest bit of luck.  My wife and Adele
+will be here directly.  They've gone to look for water-cresses.
+But I must tell you how I came to make this magnificent find.  We
+started out for a walk this morning, and we happened to hit on this
+place, and here we saw this gorgeous tent with nobody near but a
+little tow-headed boy."
+
+"Only a boy?" cried Euphemia.
+
+"Yes, a young shaver of about nine or ten.  I asked him what he was
+doing here, and he told me that this tent belonged to a gentleman
+who had gone away, and that he was here to watch it until he came
+back.  Then I asked him how long the owner would probably be away,
+and he said he supposed for a day or two.  Then a splendid idea
+struck me.  I offered the boy a dollar to let me take his place: I
+knew that any sensible man would rather have me in charge of his
+tent, than a young codger like that.  The boy agreed as quick as
+lightning, and I paid him and sent him off.  You see how little he
+was to be trusted!  The owner of this tent will be under the
+greatest obligations to me.  Just look at it!" he cried.  "Beds,
+table, stove,--everything anybody could want.  I've camped out lots
+of times, but never had such a tent as this.  I intended coming up
+this afternoon after my valise, and to tell your girl where we are.
+But here is my wife and little Adele."
+
+In the midst of the salutations and the mutual surprise, Euphemia
+cried:
+
+"But you don't expect to camp out, now?  You are coming back to our
+house?"
+
+"You see," said the ex-boarder, "we should never have thought of
+doing anything so rude, had we supposed you would have returned so
+soon.  But your girl gave us to understand that you would not be
+back for days, and so we felt free to go at any time; and I did not
+hesitate to make this arrangement.  And now that I have really
+taken the responsibility of the tent and fixtures on myself, I
+don't think it would be right to go away and leave the place,
+especially as I don't know where to find that boy.  The owner will
+be back in a day or two, and I would like to explain matters to him
+and give up the property in good order into his hands.  And, to
+tell the truth, we both adore camping-out, and we may never have
+such a chance again.  We can live here splendidly.  I went out to
+forage this morning, and found an old fellow living near by who
+sold me a lot of provisions--even some coffee and sugar--and he's
+to bring us some milk.  We're going to have supper in about an
+hour; won't you stay and take a camp-meal with us?  It will be a
+novelty for you, at any rate."
+
+We declined this invitation, as we had so lately dined.  I looked
+at Euphemia with a question in my eye.  She understood me, and
+gently shook her head.  It would be a shame to make any
+explanations which might put an end to this bit of camp-life, which
+evidently was so eagerly enjoyed by our old friend.  But we
+insisted that they should come up to the house and see us, and they
+agreed to dine with us the next evening.  On Tuesday, they must
+return to the city.
+
+"Now, this is what I call real hospitality," said the ex-boarder,
+warmly grasping my hand.  I could not help agreeing with him.
+
+As we walked home, I happened to look back and saw old John going
+over the fields toward the camp, carrying a little tin-pail and a
+water bucket.
+
+The next day, toward evening, a storm set in, and at the hour fixed
+for our dinner, the rain was pouring down in such torrents that we
+did not expect our guests.  After dinner the rain ceased, and as we
+supposed that they might not have made any preparations for a meal,
+Euphemia packed up some dinner for them in a basket, and I took it
+down to the camp.
+
+They were glad to see me, and said they had a splendid time all
+day.  They were up before sunrise, and had explored, tramped,
+boated, and I don't know what else.
+
+My basket was very acceptable, and I would have stayed awhile with
+them, but as they were obliged to eat in the tent, there was no
+place for me to sit, it being too wet outside, and so I soon came
+away.
+
+We were in doubt whether or not to tell our friends the true
+history of the camp.  I thought that it was not right to keep up
+the deception, while Euphemia declared that if they were sensitive
+people, they would feel very badly at having broken up our plans by
+their visit, and then having appropriated our camp to themselves.
+She thought it would be the part of magnanimity to say nothing
+about it.
+
+I could not help seeing a good deal of force in her arguments,
+although I wished very much to set the thing straight, and we
+discussed the matter again as we walked down to the camp, after
+breakfast next morning.
+
+There we found old John sitting on a stump.  He said nothing, but
+handed me a note written in lead-pencil on a card.  It was from our
+ex-boarder, and informed me that early that morning he had found
+that there was a tug lying in the river, which would soon start for
+the city.  He also found that he could get passage on her for his
+party, and as this was such a splendid chance to go home without
+the bother of getting up to the station, he had just bundled his
+family and his valise on board, and was very sorry they did not
+have time to come up and bid us good-bye.  The tent he left in
+charge of a very respectable man, from whom he had had supplies.
+
+That morning I had the camp-equipage packed up and expressed to its
+owner.  We did not care to camp out any more that season, but
+thought it would be better to spend the rest of my vacation at the
+sea-shore.
+
+Our ex-boarder wrote to us that he and his wife were anxious that
+we should return their visit during my holidays; but as we did not
+see exactly how we could return a visit of the kind, we did not try
+to do it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+LORD EDWARD AND THE TREE-MAN.
+
+
+It was winter at Rudder Grange.  The season was the same at other
+places, but that fact did not particularly interest Euphemia and
+myself.  It was winter with us, and we were ready for it.  That was
+the great point, and it made us proud to think that we had not been
+taken unawares, notwithstanding the many things that were to be
+thought of on a little farm like ours.
+
+It is true that we had always been prepared for winter, wherever we
+had lived; but this was a different case.  In other days it did not
+matter much whether we were ready or not; but now our house, our
+cow, our poultry, and indeed ourselves, might have suffered,--there
+is no way of finding out exactly how much,--if we had not made all
+possible preparations for the coming of cold weather.
+
+But there was a great deal yet to be thought of and planned out,
+although we were ready for winter.  The next thing to think of was
+spring.
+
+We laid out the farm.  We decided where we would have wheat, corn,
+potatoes, and oats.  We would have a man by the day to sow and
+reap.  The intermediate processes I thought I could attend to
+myself.
+
+Everything was talked over, ciphered over, and freely discussed by
+my wife and myself, except one matter, which I planned and worked
+out alone, doing most of the necessary calculations at the office,
+so as not to excite Euphemia's curiosity.
+
+I had determined to buy a horse.  This would be one of the most
+important events of our married life, and it demanded a great deal
+of thought, which I gave it.
+
+The horse was chosen for me by a friend.  He was an excellent beast
+(the horse), excelling, as my friend told me, in muscle and wit.
+Nothing better than this could be said about a horse.  He was a
+sorrel animal, quite handsome, gentle enough for Euphemia to drive,
+and not too high-minded to do a little farm-work, if necessary.  He
+was exactly the animal I needed.
+
+The carriage was not quite such a success.  The horse having cost a
+good deal more than I expected to pay, I found that I could only
+afford a second-hand carriage.  I bought a good, serviceable
+vehicle, which would hold four persons, if necessary, and there was
+room enough to pack all sorts of parcels and baskets.  It was with
+great satisfaction that I contemplated this feature of the
+carriage, which was a rather rusty-looking affair, although sound
+and strong enough.  The harness was new, and set off the horse
+admirably.
+
+On the afternoon when my purchases were completed, I did not come
+home by the train.  I drove home in my own carriage, drawn by my
+own horse!  The ten miles' drive was over a smooth road, and the
+sorrel traveled splendidly.  If I had been a line of kings a mile
+long, all in their chariots of state, with gold and silver, and
+outriders, and music, and banners waving in the wind, I could not
+have been prouder than when I drew up in front of my house.
+
+There was a wagon-gate at one side of the front fence which had
+never been used except by the men who brought coal, and I got out
+and opened this, very quietly, so as not to attract the attention
+of Euphemia.  It was earlier than I usually returned, and she would
+not be expecting me.  I was then about to lead the horse up a
+somewhat grass-grown carriage-way to the front door, but I
+reflected that Euphemia might be looking out of some of the windows
+and I had better drive up.  So I got in and drove very slowly to
+the door.
+
+However, she heard the unaccustomed noise of wheels, and looked out
+of the parlor window.  She did not see me, but immediately came
+around to the door.  I hurried out of the carriage so quickly that,
+not being familiar with the steps, I barely escaped tripping.
+
+When she opened the front door she was surprised to see me standing
+by the horse.
+
+"Have you hired a carriage?" she cried.  "Are we going to ride?"
+
+"My dear," said I, as I took her by the hand, "we are going to
+ride.  But I have not hired a carriage.  I have bought one.  Do you
+see this horse?  He is ours--our own horse."
+
+If you could have seen the face that was turned up to me,--all you
+other men in the world,--you would have torn your hair in despair.
+
+Afterward she went around and around that horse; she patted his
+smooth sides; she looked, with admiration, at his strong, well-
+formed legs; she stroked his head; she smoothed his mane; she was
+brimful of joy.
+
+When I had brought the horse some water in a bucket--and what a
+pleasure it was to water one's own horse!--Euphemia rushed into the
+house and got her hat and cloak, and we took a little drive.
+
+I doubt if any horse ever drew two happier people.  Euphemia said
+but little about the carriage.  That was a necessary adjunct, and
+it was good enough for the present.  But the horse!  How nobly and
+with what vigor he pulled us up the hills and how carefully and
+strongly he held the carriage back as we went down!  How easily he
+trotted over the level road, caring nothing for the ten miles he
+had gone that afternoon!  What a sensation of power it gave us to
+think that all that strength and speed and endurance was ours, that
+it would go where we wished, that it would wait for us as long as
+we chose, that it was at our service day and night, that it was a
+horse, and we owned it!
+
+When we returned, Pomona saw us drive in,--she had not known of our
+ride,--and when she heard the news she was as wild with proud
+delight as anybody.  She wanted to unharness him, but this I could
+not allow.  We did not wish to be selfish, but after she had seen
+and heard what we thought was enough for her, we were obliged to
+send her back to the kitchen for the sake of the dinner.
+
+Then we unharnessed him.  I say we, for Euphemia stood by and I
+explained everything, for some day, she said, she might want to do
+it herself.  Then I led him into the stable.  How nobly he trod,
+and how finely his hoofs sounded on the stable floor!
+
+There was hay in the mow and I had brought a bag of oats under the
+seat of the carriage.
+
+"Isn't it just delightful," said Euphemia, "that we haven't any
+man?  If we had a man he would take the horse at the door, and we
+should be deprived of all this.  It wouldn't be half like owning a
+horse."
+
+In the morning I drove down to the station, Euphemia by my side.
+She drove back and Old John came up and attended to the horse.
+This he was to do, for the present, for a small stipend.  In the
+afternoon Euphemia came down after me.  How I enjoyed those rides!
+Before this I had thought it ever so much more pleasant and
+healthful to walk to and from the station than to ride, but then I
+did not own a horse.  At night I attended to everything, Euphemia
+generally following me about the stable with a lantern.  When the
+days grew longer we would have delightful rides after dinner, and
+even now we planned to have early breakfasts, and go to the station
+by the longest possible way.
+
+One day, in the following spring, I was riding home from the
+station with Euphemia,--we seldom took pleasure-drives now, we were
+so busy on the place,--and as we reached the house I heard the dog
+barking savagely.  He was loose in the little orchard by the side
+of the house.  As I drove in, Pomona came running to the carriage.
+
+"Man up the tree!" she shouted.
+
+I helped Euphemia out, left the horse standing by the door, and ran
+to the dog, followed by my wife and Pomona.  Sure enough, there was
+a man up the tree, and Lord Edward was doing his best to get at
+him, springing wildly at the tree and fairly shaking with rage.
+
+I looked up at the man, he was a thoroughbred tramp, burly, dirty,
+generally unkempt, but, unlike most tramps, he looked very much
+frightened.  His position, on a high crotch of an apple-tree, was
+not altogether comfortable, and although, for the present, it was
+safe, the fellow seemed to have a wavering faith in the strength of
+apple-tree branches, and the moment he saw me, he earnestly
+besought me to take that dog away, and let him down.
+
+I made no answer, but turning to Pomona, I asked her what this all
+meant.
+
+"Why, sir, you see," said she, "I was in the kitchen bakin' pies,
+and this fellow must have got over the fence at the side of the
+house, for the dog didn't see him, and the first thing I know'd he
+was stickin' his head in the window, and he asked me to give him
+somethin' to eat.  And when I said I'd see in a minute if there was
+anything for him, he says to me, 'Gim me a piece of one of them
+pies,'--pies I'd just baked and was settin' to cool on the kitchen
+table!  'No, sir,' says I, 'I'm not goin' to cut one of them pies
+for you, or any one like you.'  'All right!' says he.  'I'll come
+in and help myself.'  He must have known there was no man about,
+and, comin' the way he did, he hadn't seen the dog.  So he come
+round to the kitchen door, but I shot out before he got there and
+unchained Lord Edward.  I guess he saw the dog, when he got to the
+door, and at any rate he heard the chain clankin', and he didn't go
+in, but just put for the gate.  But Lord Edward was after him so
+quick that he hadn't no time to go to no gates.  It was all he
+could do to scoot up this tree, and if he'd been a millionth part
+of a minute later he'd 'a' been in another world by this time."
+
+The man, who had not attempted to interrupt Pomona's speech, now
+began again to implore me to let him down, while Euphemia looked
+pitifully at him, and was about, I think, to intercede with me in
+his favor, but my attention was drawn off from her, by the strange
+conduct of the dog.  Believing, I suppose, that he might leave the
+tramp for a moment, now that I had arrived, he had dashed away to
+another tree, where he was barking furiously, standing on his hind
+legs and clawing at the trunk.
+
+"What's the matter over there?" I asked.
+
+"Oh, that's the other fellow," said Pomona.  "He's no harm."  And
+then, as the tramp made a movement as if he would try to come down,
+and make a rush for safety, during the absence of the dog, she
+called out, "Here, boy! here, boy!" and in an instant Lord Edward
+was again raging at his post, at the foot of the apple-tree.
+
+I was grievously puzzled at all this, and walked over to the other
+tree, followed, as before, by Euphemia and Pomona.
+
+"This one," said the latter, "is a tree-man--"
+
+"I should think so," said I, as I caught sight of a person in gray
+trowsers standing among the branches of a cherry-tree not very far
+from the kitchen door.  The tree was not a large one, and the
+branches were not strong enough to allow him to sit down on them,
+although they supported him well enough, as he stood close to the
+trunk just out of reach of Lord Edward.
+
+"This is a very unpleasant position, sir," said he, when I reached
+the tree.  "I simply came into your yard, on a matter of business,
+and finding that raging beast attacking a person in a tree, I had
+barely time to get up into this tree myself, before he dashed at
+me.  Luckily I was out of his reach; but I very much fear I have
+lost some of my property."
+
+"No, he hasn't," said Pomona.  "It was a big book he dropped.  I
+picked it up and took it into the house.  It's full of pictures of
+pears and peaches and flowers.  I've been lookin' at it.  That's
+how I knew what he was.  And there was no call for his gittin' up a
+tree.  Lord Edward never would have gone after him if he hadn't run
+as if he had guilt on his soul."
+
+"I suppose, then," said I, addressing the individual in the cherry-
+tree, "that you came here to sell me some trees."
+
+"Yes, sir," said he quickly, "trees, shrubs, vines, evergreens,--
+everything suitable for a gentleman's country villa.  I can sell
+you something quite remarkable, sir, in the way of cherry-trees,--
+French ones, just imported; bear fruit three times the size of
+anything that could be produced on a tree like this.  And pears--
+fruit of the finest flavor and enormous size--"
+
+"Yes," said Pomona.  "I seen them in the book.  But they must grow
+on a ground-vine.  No tree couldn't hold such pears as them."
+
+Here Euphemia reproved Pomona's forwardness, and I invited the
+tree-agent to get down out of the tree.
+
+"Thank you," said he; "but not while that dog is loose.  If you
+will kindly chain him up, I will get my book, and show you
+specimens of some of the finest small fruit in the world, all
+imported from the first nurseries of Europe--the Red-gold Amber
+Muscat grape,--the--"
+
+"Oh, please let him down!" said Euphemia, her eyes beginning to
+sparkle.
+
+I slowly walked toward the tramp-tree, revolving various matters in
+my mind.  We had not spent much money on the place during the
+winter, and we now had a small sum which we intended to use for the
+advantage of the farm, but had not yet decided what to do with it.
+It behooved me to be careful.
+
+I told Pomona to run and get me the dog-chain, and I stood under
+the tree, listening, as well as I could, to the tree-agent talking
+to Euphemia, and paying no attention to the impassioned entreaties
+of the tramp in the crotch above me.  When the chain was brought, I
+hooked one end of it in Lord Edward's collar, and then I took a
+firm grasp of the other.  Telling Pomona to bring the tree-agent's
+book from the house, I called to that individual to get down from
+his tree.  He promptly obeyed, and taking the book from Pomona,
+began to show the pictures to Euphemia.
+
+"You had better hurry, sir," I called out.  "I can't hold this dog
+very long."  And, indeed, Lord Edward had made a run toward the
+agent, which jerked me very forcibly in his direction.  But a
+movement by the tramp had quickly brought the dog back to his more
+desired victim.
+
+"If you will just tie up that dog, sir," said the agent, "and come
+this way, I would like to show you the Meltinagua pear,--dissolves
+in the mouth like snow, sir; trees will bear next year."
+
+"Oh, come look at the Royal Sparkling Ruby grape!" cried Euphemia.
+"It glows in the sun like a gem."
+
+"Yes," said the agent, "and fills the air with fragrance during the
+whole month of September--"
+
+"I tell you," I shouted, "I can't hold this dog another minute!
+The chain is cutting the skin off my hands.  Run, sir, run!  I'm
+going to let go!"
+
+"Run! run!" cried Pomona.  "Fly for your life!"
+
+The agent now began to be frightened, and shut up his book.
+
+"If you only could see the plates, sir, I'm sure--"
+
+"Are you ready?" I cried, as the dog, excited by Pomona's wild
+shouts, made a bolt in his direction.
+
+"Good-day, if I must--" said the agent, as he hurried to the gate.
+But there he stopped.
+
+"There is nothing, sir," he said, "that would so improve your place
+as a row of the Spitzenberg Sweet-scented Balsam fir along this
+fence.  I'll sell you three-year-old trees--"
+
+"He's loose!" I shouted, as I dropped the chain.
+
+In a second the agent was on the other side of the gate.  Lord
+Edward made a dash toward him; but, stopping suddenly, flew back to
+the tree of the tramp.
+
+"If you should conclude, sir," said the tree-agent, looking over
+the fence, "to have a row of those firs along here--"
+
+"My good sir," said I, "there is no row of firs there now, and the
+fence is not very high.  My dog, as you see, is very much excited
+and I cannot answer for the consequences if he takes it into his
+head to jump over."
+
+The tree-agent turned and walked slowly away.
+
+"Now, look-a-here," cried the tramp from the tree, in the voice of
+a very ill-used person, "ain't you goin' to fasten up that dog, and
+let me git down?"
+
+I walked up close to the tree and addressed him.
+
+"No," said I, "I am not.  When a man comes to my place, bullies a
+young girl who was about to relieve his hunger, and then boldly
+determines to enter my house and help himself to my property, I
+don't propose to fasten up any dog that may happen to be after him.
+If I had another dog, I'd let him loose, and give this faithful
+beast a rest.  You can do as you please.  You can come down and
+have it out with the dog, or you can stay up there, until I have
+had my dinner.  Then I will drive down to the village and bring up
+the constable, and deliver you into his hands.  We want no such
+fellows as you about."
+
+With that, I unhooked the chain from Lord Edward, and walked off to
+put up the horse.  The man shouted after me, but I paid no
+attention.  I did not feel in a good humor with him.
+
+Euphemia was much disturbed by the various occurrences of the
+afternoon.  She was sorry for the man in the tree; she was sorry
+that the agent for the Royal Ruby grape had been obliged to go
+away; and I had a good deal of trouble during dinner to make her
+see things in the proper light.  But I succeeded at last.
+
+I did not hurry through dinner, and when we had finished I went to
+my work at the barn.  Tramps are not generally pressed for time,
+and Pomona had been told to give our captive something to eat.
+
+I was just locking the door of the carriage-house, when Pomona came
+running to me to tell me that the tramp wanted to see me about
+something very important--just a minute, he said.  I put the key in
+my pocket and walked over to the tree.  It was now almost dark, but
+I could see that the dog, the tramp, and the tree still kept their
+respective places.
+
+"Look-a-here," said the individual in the crotch, "you don't know
+how dreadful oneasy these limbs gits after you've been settin up
+here as long as I have.  And I don't want to have nuthin to do with
+no constables.  I'll tell you what I'll do if you'll chain up that
+dog, and let me go, I'll fix things so that you'll not be troubled
+no more by no tramps."
+
+"How will you do that?" I asked.
+
+"Oh, never you mind," said he.  "I'll give you my word of honor
+I'll do it.  There's a reg'lar understandin' among us fellers, you
+know."
+
+I considered the matter.  The word of honor of a fellow such as he
+was could not be worth much, but the merest chance of getting rid
+of tramps should not be neglected.  I went in to talk to Euphemia
+about it, although I knew what she would say.  I reasoned with
+myself as much as with her.
+
+"If we put this one fellow in prison for a few weeks," I said, "the
+benefit is not very great.  If we are freed from all tramps, for
+the season, the benefit is very great.  Shall we try for the
+greatest good?"
+
+"Certainly," said Euphemia; "and his legs must be dreadfully
+stiff."
+
+So I went out, and after a struggle of some minutes, I chained Lord
+Edward to a post at a little distance from the apple-tree.  When he
+was secure, the tramp descended nimbly from his perch,
+notwithstanding his stiff legs, and hurried out of the gate.  He
+stopped to make no remarks over the fence.  With a wild howl of
+disappointed ambition, Lord Edward threw himself after him.  But
+the chain held.
+
+A lane of moderate length led from our house to the main road, and
+the next day, as we were riding home, I noticed, on the trunk of a
+large tree, which stood at the corner of the lane and road, a
+curious mark.  I drew up to see what it was, but we could not make
+it out.  It was a very rude device, cut deeply into the tree, and
+somewhat resembled a square, a circle, a triangle, and a cross,
+with some smaller marks beneath it.  I felt sure that our tramp had
+cut it, and that it had some significance, which would be
+understood by the members of his fraternity.
+
+And it must have had, for no tramps came near us all that summer.
+We were visited by a needy person now and then, but by no member of
+the regular army of tramps.
+
+One afternoon, that fall, I walked home, and at the corner of the
+lane I saw a tramp looking up at the mark on the tree, which was
+still quite distinct.
+
+"What does that mean?" I said, stepping up to him.
+
+"How do I know?" said the man, "and what do you want to know fur?"
+
+"Just out of curiosity," I said; "I have often noticed it.  I think
+you can tell me what it means, and if you will do so, I'll give you
+a dollar."
+
+"And keep mum about it?" said the man.
+
+"Yes," I replied, taking out the dollar.
+
+"All right!" said the tramp.  "That sign means that the man that
+lives up this lane is a mean, stingy cuss, with a wicked dog, and
+it's no good to go there."
+
+I handed him the dollar and went away, perfectly satisfied with my
+reputation.
+
+I wish here to make some mention of Euphemia's methods of work in
+her chicken-yard.  She kept a book, which she at first called her
+"Fowl Record," but she afterward changed the name to "Poultry
+Register."  I never could thoroughly understand this book, although
+she has often explained every part of it to me.  She had pages for
+registering the age, description, time of purchase or of birth, and
+subsequent performances of every fowl in her yard.  She had
+divisions of the book for expenses, profits, probable losses and
+positive losses; she noted the number of eggs put under each
+setting hen; the number of eggs cracked per day, the number
+spoiled, and finally, the number hatched.  Each chick, on emerging
+from its shell, was registered, and an account kept of its
+subsequent life and adventures.  There were frequent calculations
+regarding the advantages of various methods of treatment, and there
+were statements of the results of a great many experiments--
+something like this: "Set Toppy and her sister Pinky, April 2nd
+187-; Toppy with twelve eggs,--three Brahma, four common, and five
+Leghorn; Pinky with thirteen eggs (as she weighs four ounces more
+than her sister), of which three were Leghorn, five common, and
+five Brahma.  During the twenty-second and twenty-third of April
+(same year) Toppy hatched out four Brahmas, two commons, and three
+Leghorns, while her sister, on these days and the morning of the
+day following, hatched two Leghorns, six commons, and only one
+Brahma.  Now, could Toppy, who had only three Brahma eggs, and
+hatched out four of that breed, have exchanged eggs with her
+sister, thus making it possible for her to hatch out six common
+chickens, when she only had five eggs of that kind?  Or, did the
+eggs get mixed up in some way before going into the possession of
+the hens?  Look into probabilities."
+
+These probabilities must have puzzled Euphemia a great deal, but
+they never disturbed her equanimity.  She was always as tranquil
+and good-humored about her poultry-yard as if every hen laid an egg
+every day, and a hen-chick was hatched out of every egg.
+
+For it may be remembered that the principle underlying Euphemia's
+management of her poultry was what might be designated as the
+"cumulative hatch."  That is, she wished every chicken hatched in
+her yard to become the mother of a brood of her own during the
+year, and every one of this brood to raise another brood the next
+year, and so on, in a kind of geometrical progression.  This plan
+called for a great many mother-fowls, and so Euphemia based her
+highest hopes on a great annual preponderance of hens.
+
+We ate a good many young roosters that fall, for Euphemia would not
+allow all the products of her yard to go to market, and, also, a
+great many eggs and fowls were sold.  She had not contented herself
+with her original stock of poultry, but had bought fowls during the
+winter, and she certainly had extraordinary good luck, or else her
+extraordinary system worked extraordinarily well.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+POMONA'S NOVEL.
+
+
+It was in the latter part of August of that year that it became
+necessary for some one in the office in which I was engaged to go
+to St. Louis to attend to important business.  Everything seemed to
+point to me as the fit person, for I understood the particular
+business better than any one else.  I felt that I ought to go, but
+I did not altogether like to do it.  I went home, and Euphemia and
+I talked over the matter far into the regulation sleeping-hours.
+
+There were very good reasons why we should go (for, of course, I
+would not think of taking such a journey without Euphemia).  In the
+first place, it would be of advantage to me, in my business
+connection, to take the trip, and then it would be such a charming
+journey for us.  We had never been west of the Alleghanies, and
+nearly all the country we would see would be new to us.  We would
+come home by the great lakes and Niagara, and the prospect was
+delightful to both of us.  But then we would have to leave Rudder
+Grange for at least three weeks, and how could we do that?
+
+This was indeed a difficult question to answer.  Who could take
+care of our garden, our poultry, our horse and cow, and all their
+complicated belongings?  The garden was in admirable condition.
+Our vegetables were coming in every day in just that fresh and
+satisfactory condition--altogether unknown to people who buy
+vegetables--for which I had labored so faithfully, and about which
+I had had so many cheerful anticipations.  As to Euphemia's
+chicken-yard,--with Euphemia away,--the subject was too great for
+us.  We did not even discuss it.  But we would give up all the
+pleasures of our home for the chance of this most desirable
+excursion, if we could but think of some one who would come and
+take care of the place while we were gone.  Rudder Grange could not
+run itself for three weeks.
+
+We thought of every available person.  Old John would not do.  We
+did not feel that we could trust him.  We thought of several of our
+friends; but there was, in both our minds, a certain shrinking from
+the idea of handing over the place to any of them for such a length
+of time.  For my part, I said, I would rather leave Pomona in
+charge than any one else; but, then, Pomona was young and a girl.
+Euphemia agreed with me that she would rather trust her than any
+one else, but she also agreed in regard to the disqualifications.
+So, when I went to the office the next morning, we had fully
+determined to go on the trip, if we could find some one to take
+charge of our place while we were gone.  When I returned from the
+office in the afternoon, I had agreed to go to St. Louis.  By this
+time, I had no choice in the matter, unless I wished to interfere
+very much with my own interests.  We were to start in two days.  If
+in that time we could get any one to stay at the place, very well;
+if not, Pomona must assume the charge.  We were not able to get any
+one, and Pomona did assume the charge.  It is surprising how
+greatly relieved we felt when we were obliged to come to this
+conclusion.  The arrangement was exactly what we wanted, and now
+that there was no help for it, our consciences were easy.
+
+We felt sure that there would be no danger to Pomona.  Lord Edward
+would be with her, and she was a young person who was
+extraordinarily well able to take care of herself.  Old John would
+be within call in case she needed him, and I borrowed a bull-dog to
+be kept in the house at night.  Pomona herself was more than
+satisfied with the plan.
+
+We made out, the night before we left, a long and minute series of
+directions for her guidance in household, garden and farm matters,
+and directed her to keep a careful record of everything note worthy
+that might occur.  She was fully supplied with all the necessaries
+of life, and it has seldom happened that a young girl has been left
+in such a responsible and independent position as that in which we
+left Pomona.  She was very proud of it.
+
+Our journey was ten times more delightful than we had expected it
+would be, and successful in every way; and yet, although we enjoyed
+every hour of the trip, we were no sooner fairly on our way home
+than we became so wildly anxious to get there, that we reached
+Rudder Grange on Wednesday, whereas we had written that we would be
+home on Thursday.  We arrived early in the afternoon and walked up
+from the station, leaving our baggage to be sent in the express
+wagon.  As we approached our dear home, we wanted to run, we were
+so eager to see it.
+
+There it was, the same as ever.  I lifted the gate-latch; the gate
+was locked.  We ran to the carriage-gate; that was locked too.
+Just then I noticed a placard on the fence; it was not printed, but
+the lettering was large, apparently made with ink and a brush.  It
+read:
+
+
+     TO BE SOLD
+
+      For TAXES.
+
+
+We stood and looked at each other.  Euphemia turned pale.
+
+"What does this mean?" said I.  "Has our landlord--"
+
+I could say no more.  The dreadful thought arose that the place
+might pass away from us.  We were not yet ready to buy it.  But I
+did not put the thought in words.  There was a field next to our
+lot, and I got over the fence and helped Euphemia over.  Then we
+climbed our side-fence.  This was more difficult, but we
+accomplished it without thinking much about its difficulties; our
+hearts were too full of painful apprehensions.  I hurried to the
+front door; it was locked.  All the lower windows were shut.  We
+went around to the kitchen.  What surprised us more than anything
+else was the absence of Lord Edward.  Had HE been sold?
+
+Before we reached the back part of the house, Euphemia said she
+felt faint and must sit down.  I led her to a tree near by, under
+which I had made a rustic chair.  The chair was gone.  She sat on
+the grass and I ran to the pump for some water.  I looked for the
+bright tin dipper which always hung by the pump.  It was not there.
+But I had a traveling-cup in my pocket, and as I was taking it out
+I looked around me.  There was an air of bareness over everything.
+I did not know what it all meant, but I know that my hand trembled
+as I took hold of the pump-handle and began to pump.
+
+At the first sound of the pump-handle I heard a deep bark in the
+direction of the barn, and then furiously around the corner came
+Lord Edward.  Before I had filled the cup he was bounding about me.
+I believe the glad welcome of the dog did more to revive Euphemia
+than the water.  He was delighted to see us, and in a moment up
+came Pomona, running from the barn.  Her face was radiant, too.  We
+felt relieved.  Here were two friends who looked as if they were
+neither sold nor ruined.
+
+Pomona quickly saw that we were ill at ease, and before I could put
+a question to her, she divined the cause.  Her countenance fell.
+
+"You know," said she, "you said you wasn't comin' till to-morrow.
+If you only HAD come then--I was goin' to have everything just
+exactly right--an' now you had to climb in--"
+
+And the poor girl looked as if she might cry, which would have been
+a wonderful thing for Pomona to do.
+
+"Tell me one thing," said I.  "What about--those taxes?"
+
+"Oh, that's all right," she cried.  "Don't think another minute
+about that.  I'll tell you all about it soon.  But come in first,
+and I'll get you some lunch in a minute."
+
+We were somewhat relieved by Pomona's statement that it was "all
+right" in regard to the tax-poster, but we were very anxious to
+know all about the matter.  Pomona, however, gave us little chance
+to ask her any questions.  As soon as she had made ready our lunch,
+she asked us, as a particular favor, to give her three-quarters of
+an hour to herself, and then, said she, "I'll have everything
+looking just as if it was to-morrow."
+
+We respected her feelings, for, of course, it was a great
+disappointment to her to be taken thus unawares, and we remained in
+the dining-room until she appeared, and announced that she was
+ready for us to go about.  We availed ourselves quickly of the
+privilege, and Euphemia hurried to the chicken-yard, while I bent
+my steps toward the garden and barn.  As I went out I noticed that
+the rustic chair was in its place, and passing the pump I looked
+for the dipper.  It was there.  I asked Pomona about the chair, but
+she did not answer as quickly as was her habit.
+
+"Would you rather," said she, "hear it all together, when you come
+in, or have it in little bits, head and tail, all of a jumble?"
+
+I called to Euphemia and asked her what she thought, and she was so
+anxious to get to her chickens that she said she would much rather
+wait and hear it all together.  We found everything in perfect
+order,--the garden was even free from weeds, a thing I had not
+expected.  If it had not been for that cloud on the front fence, I
+should have been happy enough.  Pomona had said it was all right,
+but she could not have paid the taxes--however, I would wait; and I
+went to the barn.
+
+When Euphemia came in from the poultry-yard, she called me and said
+she was in a hurry to hear Pomona's account of things.  So I went
+in, and we sat on the side porch, where it was shady, while Pomona,
+producing some sheets of foolscap paper, took her seat on the upper
+step.
+
+"I wrote down the things of any account what happened," said she,
+"as you told me to, and while I was about it, I thought I'd make it
+like a novel.  It would be jus' as true, and p'r'aps more amusin'.
+I suppose you don't mind?"
+
+No, we didn't mind.  So she went on.
+
+"I haven't got no name for my novel.  I intended to think one out
+to-night.  I wrote this all of nights.  And I don't read the first
+chapters, for they tell about my birth and my parentage and my
+early adventures.  I'll just come down to what happened to me while
+you was away, because you'll be more anxious to hear about that.
+All that's written here is true, jus' the same as if I told it to
+you, but I've put it into novel language because it seems to come
+easier to me."
+
+And then, in a voice somewhat different from her ordinary tones, as
+if the "novel language" demanded it, she began to read:
+
+"Chapter Five.  The Lonely house and the Faithful friend.  Thus was
+I left alone.  None but two dogs to keep me com-pa-ny.  I milk-ed
+the lowing kine and water-ed and fed the steed, and then, after my
+fru-gal repast, I clos-ed the man-si-on, shutting out all re-
+collections of the past and also foresights into the future.  That
+night was a me-mor-able one.  I slept soundly until the break of
+morn, but had the events transpired which afterward occur-red, what
+would have hap-pen-ed to me no tongue can tell.  Early the next day
+nothing hap-pened.  Soon after breakfast, the vener-able John came
+to bor-row some ker-osene oil and a half a pound of sugar, but his
+attempt was foil-ed.  I knew too well the in-sid-ious foe.  In the
+very out-set of his vil-li-an-y I sent him home with a empty can.
+For two long days I wander-ed amid the ver-dant pathways of the
+gar-den and to the barn, whenever and anon my du-ty call-ed me, nor
+did I ere neg-lect the fowlery.  No cloud o'er-spread this happy
+pe-ri-od of my life.  But the cloud was ri-sing in the horizon
+although I saw it not.
+
+"It was about twenty-five minutes after eleven, on the morning of a
+Thursday, that I sat pondering in my mind the ques-ti-on what to do
+with the butter and the veg-et-ables.  Here was butter, and here
+was green corn and lima-beans and trophy tomats, far more than I
+ere could use.  And here was a horse, idly cropping the fol-i-age
+in the field, for as my employer had advis-ed and order-ed I had
+put the steed to grass.  And here was a wagon, none too new, which
+had it the top taken off, or even the curtains roll-ed up, would do
+for a li-cen-ced vender.  With the truck and butter, and mayhap
+some milk, I could load that wagon--"
+
+"O, Pomona," interrupted Euphemia.  "You don't mean to say that you
+were thinking of doing anything like that?"
+
+"Well, I was just beginning to think of it," said Pomona, "but of
+course I couldn't have gone away and left the house.  And you'll
+see I didn't do it."  And then she continued her novel.  "But while
+my thoughts were thus employ-ed, I heard Lord Edward burst into
+bark-ter--"
+
+At this Euphemia and I could not help bursting into laughter.
+Pomona did not seem at all confused, but went on with her reading.
+
+"I hurried to the door, and, look-ing out, I saw a wagon at the
+gate.  Re-pair-ing there, I saw a man.  Said he, 'Wilt open this
+gate?'  I had fasten-ed up the gates and remov-ed every steal-able
+ar-ticle from the yard."
+
+Euphemia and I looked at each other.  This explained the absence of
+the rustic seat and the dipper.
+
+"Thus, with my mind at ease, I could let my faith-ful fri-end, the
+dog (for he it was), roam with me through the grounds, while the
+fi-erce bull-dog guard-ed the man-si-on within.  Then said I, quite
+bold, unto him, 'No.  I let in no man here.  My em-ploy-er and
+employ-er-ess are now from home.  What do you want?'  Then says he,
+as bold as brass, 'I've come to put the light-en-ing rods upon the
+house.  Open the gate.'  'What rods?' says I.  'The rods as was
+ordered,' says he, 'open the gate.'  I stood and gaz-ed at him.
+Full well I saw through his pinch-beck mask.  I knew his tricks.
+In the ab-sence of my em-ployer, he would put up rods, and ever so
+many more than was wanted, and likely, too, some miser-able trash
+that would attrack the light-ening, instead of keep-ing it off.
+Then, as it would spoil the house to take them down, they would be
+kept, and pay demand-ed.  'No, sir,' says I.  'No light-en-ing rods
+upon this house whilst I stand here,' and with that I walk-ed away,
+and let Lord Edward loose.  The man he storm-ed with pas-si-on.
+His eyes flash-ed fire.  He would e'en have scal-ed the gate, but
+when he saw the dog he did forbear.  As it was then near noon, I
+strode away to feed the fowls; but when I did return, I saw a sight
+which froze the blood with-in my veins--"
+
+"The dog didn't kill him?" cried Euphemia.
+
+"Oh no, ma'am!" said Pomona.  "You'll see that that wasn't it.  At
+one corn-er of the lot, in front, a base boy, who had accompa-ni-ed
+this man, was bang-ing on the fence with a long stick, and thus
+attrack-ing to hisself the rage of Lord Edward, while the vile
+intrig-er of a light-en-ing rod-der had brought a lad-der to the
+other side of the house, up which he had now as-cend-ed, and was on
+the roof.  What horrors fill-ed my soul!  How my form trembl-ed!
+This," continued Pomona, "is the end of the novel," and she laid
+her foolscap pages on the porch.
+
+Euphemia and I exclaimed, with one voice, against this.  We had
+just reached the most exciting part, and, I added, we had heard
+nothing yet about that affair of the taxes.
+
+"You see, sir," said Pomona, "it took me so long to write out the
+chapters about my birth, my parentage, and my early adventures,
+that I hadn't time to finish up the rest.  But I can tell you what
+happened after that jus' as well as if I had writ it out."  And so
+she went on, much more glibly than before, with the account of the
+doings of the lightning-rod man.
+
+"There was that wretch on top of the house, a-fixin' his old rods
+and hammerin' away for dear life.  He'd brought his ladder over the
+side fence, where the dog, a-barkin' and plungin' at the boy
+outside, couldn't see him.  I stood dumb for a minute, an' then I
+know'd I had him.  I rushed into the house, got a piece of well-
+rope, tied it to the bull-dog's collar, an' dragged him out and
+fastened him to the bottom rung of the ladder.  Then I walks over
+to the front fence with Lord Edward's chain, for I knew that if he
+got at that bull-dog there'd be times, for they'd never been
+allowed to see each other yet.  So says I to the boy, 'I'm goin' to
+tie up the dog, so you needn't be afraid of his jumpin' over the
+fence,'--which he couldn't do, or the boy would have been a corpse
+for twenty minutes, or may be half an hour.  The boy kinder
+laughed, and said I needn't mind, which I didn't.  Then I went to
+the gate, and I clicked to the horse which was standin' there, an'
+off he starts, as good as gold, an' trots down the road.  The boy,
+he said somethin' or other pretty bad, an' away he goes after him;
+but the horse was a-trottin' real fast, an' had a good start."
+
+"How on earth could you ever think of doing such things?" said
+Euphemia.  "That horse might have upset the wagon and broken all
+the lightning-rods, besides running over I don't know how many
+people."
+
+"But you see, ma'am, that wasn't my lookout," said Pomona.  "I was
+a-defendin' the house, and the enemy must expect to have things
+happen to him.  So then I hears an awful row on the roof, and there
+was the man just coming down the ladder.  He'd heard the horse go
+off, and when he got about half-way down an' caught a sight of the
+bull-dog, he was madder than ever you seed a lightnin'-rodder in
+all your born days.  'Take that dog off of there!' he yelled at me.
+'No, I wont, says I.  'I never see a girl like you since I was
+born,' he screams at me.  'I guess it would 'a' been better fur you
+if you had,' says I; an' then he was so mad he couldn't stand it
+any longer, and he comes down as low as he could, and when he saw
+just how long the rope was,--which was pretty short,--he made a
+jump, and landed clear of the dog.  Then he went on dreadful
+because he couldn't get at his ladder to take it away; and I
+wouldn't untie the dog, because if I had he'd 'a' torn the tendons
+out of that fellow's legs in no time.  I never see a dog in such a
+boiling passion, and yet never making no sound at all but blood-
+curdlin' grunts.  An' I don't see how the rodder would 'a' got his
+ladder at all if the dog hadn't made an awful jump at him, and
+jerked the ladder down.  It just missed your geranium-bed, and the
+rodder, he ran to the other end of it, and began pullin' it away,
+dog an' all.  'Look-a-here,' says I, 'we can fix him now; and so he
+cooled down enough to help me, and I unlocked the front door, and
+we pushed the bottom end of the ladder in, dog and all; an' then I
+shut the door as tight as it would go, an' untied the end of the
+rope, an' the rodder pulled the ladder out while I held the door to
+keep the dog from follerin', which he came pretty near doin',
+anyway.  But I locked him in, and then the man began stormin' again
+about his wagon; but when he looked out an' see the boy comin' back
+with it,--for somebody must 'a' stopped the horse,--he stopped
+stormin' and went to put up his ladder ag'in.  'No, you don't,'
+says I; 'I'll let the big dog loose next time, and if I put him at
+the foot of your ladder, you'll never come down.'  'But I want to
+go and take down what I put up,' he says; 'I aint a-goin' on with
+this job.'  ' No,' says I, 'you aint; and you can't go up there to
+wrench off them rods and make rain-holes in the roof, neither.'  He
+couldn't get no madder than he was then, an' fur a minute or two he
+couldn't speak, an' then he says, 'I'll have satisfaction for
+this.'  An' says I, 'How?  'An' says he, 'You'll see what it is to
+interfere with a ordered job.'  An' says I, 'There wasn't no order
+about it;' an' says he, 'I'll show you better than that;' an' he
+goes to his wagon an' gits a book.  'There,' says he, 'read that.'
+'What of it? 'says I 'there's nobody of the name of Ball lives
+here.'  That took the man kinder aback, and he said he was told it
+was the only house on the lane, which I said was right, only it was
+the next lane he oughter 'a' gone to.  He said no more after that,
+but just put his ladder in his wagon, and went off.  But I was not
+altogether rid of him.  He left a trail of his baleful presence
+behind him.
+
+"That horrid bull-dog wouldn't let me come into the house!  No
+matter what door I tried, there he was, just foamin' mad.  I let
+him stay till nearly night, and then went and spoke kind to him;
+but it was no good.  He'd got an awful spite ag'in me.  I found
+something to eat down cellar, and I made a fire outside an' roasted
+some corn and potatoes.  That night I slep' in the barn.  I wasn't
+afraid to be away from the house, for I knew it was safe enough,
+with that dog in it and Lord Edward outside.  For three days,
+Sunday an' all, I was kep' out of this here house.  I got along
+pretty well with the sleepin' and the eatin', but the drinkin' was
+the worst.  I couldn't get no coffee or tea; but there was plenty
+of milk."
+
+"Why didn't you get some man to come and attend to the dog?" I
+asked.  "It was dreadful to live that way."
+
+"Well, I didn't know no man that could do it," said Pomona.  "The
+dog would 'a' been too much for Old John, and besides, he was mad
+about the kerosene.  Sunday afternoon, Captain Atkinson and Mrs.
+Atkinson and their little girl in a push-wagon, come here, and I
+told 'em you was gone away; but they says they would stop a minute,
+and could I give them a drink; an' I had nothin' to give it to them
+but an old chicken-bowl that I had washed out, for even the dipper
+was in the house, an' I told 'em everything was locked up, which
+was true enough, though they must 'a' thought you was a queer kind
+of people; but I wasn't a-goin' to say nothin' about the dog, fur,
+to tell the truth, I was ashamed to do it.  So as soon as they'd
+gone, I went down into the cellar,--and it's lucky that I had the
+key for the outside cellar door,--and I got a piece of fat corn-
+beef and the meat-axe.  I unlocked the kitchen door and went in,
+with the axe in one hand and the meat in the other.  The dog might
+take his choice.  I know'd he must be pretty nigh famished, for
+there was nothin' that he could get at to eat.  As soon as I went
+in, he came runnin' to me; but I could see he was shaky on his
+legs.  He looked a sort of wicked at me, and then he grabbed the
+meat.  He was all right then."
+
+"Oh, my!" said Euphemia, "I am so glad to hear that.  I was afraid
+you never got in.  But we saw the dog--is he as savage yet?"
+
+"Oh no!" said Pomona; "nothin' like it."
+
+"Look here, Pomona," said I, "I want to know about those taxes.
+When do they come into your story?"
+
+"Pretty soon, sir," said she, and she went on:
+
+"After that, I know'd it wouldn't do to have them two dogs so that
+they'd have to be tied up if they see each other.  Just as like as
+not I'd want them both at once, and then they'd go to fightin', and
+leave me to settle with some blood-thirsty lightnin'-rodder.  So,
+as I know'd if they once had a fair fight and found out which was
+master, they'd be good friends afterwards, I thought the best thing
+to do would be to let 'em fight it out, when there was nothin' else
+for 'em to do.  So I fixed up things for the combat."
+
+"Why, Pomona!" cried Euphemia, "I didn't think you were capable of
+such a cruel thing."
+
+"It looks that way, ma'am, but really it aint," replied the girl.
+"It seemed to me as if it would be a mercy to both of 'em to have
+the thing settled.  So I cleared away a place in front of the wood-
+shed and unchained Lord Edward, and then I opened the kitchen door
+and called the bull.  Out he came, with his teeth a-showin', and
+his blood-shot eyes, and his crooked front legs.  Like lightnin'
+from the mount'in blast, he made one bounce for the big dog, and
+oh! what a fight there was!  They rolled, they gnashed, they
+knocked over the wood-horse and sent chips a-flyin' all ways at
+wonst.  I thought Lord Edward would whip in a minute or two; but he
+didn't, for the bull stuck to him like a burr, and they was havin'
+it, ground and lofty, when I hears some one run up behind me, and
+turnin' quick, there was the 'Piscopalian minister, 'My! my! my!'
+he hollers; 'what a awful spectacle!  Aint there no way of stoppin'
+it?'  ' No, sir,' says I, and I told him how I didn't want to stop
+it, and the reason why.  Then says he, 'Where's your master?' and I
+told him how you was away.  'Isn't there any man at all about?'
+says he.  'No,' says I.  'Then,' says he, 'if there's nobody else
+to stop it, I must do it myself.'  An' he took off his coat.  'No,'
+says I, 'you keep back, sir.  If there's anybody to plunge into
+that erena, the blood be mine;' an' I put my hand, without
+thinkin', ag'in his black shirt-bosom, to hold him back; but he
+didn't notice, bein' so excited.  'Now,' says I, 'jist wait one
+minute, and you'll see that bull's tail go between his legs.  He's
+weakenin'.'  An' sure enough, Lord Edward got a good grab at him,
+and was a-shakin' the very life out of him, when I run up and took
+Lord Edward by the collar.  'Drop it!' says I, and he dropped it,
+for he know'd he'd whipped, and he was pretty tired hisself.  Then
+the bull-dog, he trotted off with his tail a-hangin' down.  'Now,
+then,' says I, 'them dogs will be bosom friends forever after
+this.'  'Ah me!' says he, 'I'm sorry indeed that your employer, for
+who I've always had a great respect, should allow you to get into
+such habits.'  That made me feel real bad, and I told him, mighty
+quick, that you was the last man in the world to let me do anything
+like that, and that, if you'd 'a' been here, you'd 'a' separated
+them dogs, if they'd a-chawed your arms off; that you was very
+particular about such things; and that it would be a pity if he was
+to think you was a dog-fightin' gentleman, when I'd often heard you
+say that, now you was fixed an' settled, the one thing you would
+like most would be to be made a vestryman."
+
+I sat up straight in my chair.
+
+"Pomona!" I exclaimed, "you didn't tell him that?"
+
+"That's what I said, sir, for I wanted him to know what you really
+was; an' he says, 'Well, well, I never knew that.  It might be a
+very good thing.  I'll speak to some of the members about it.
+There's two vacancies now in our vestry."
+
+I was crushed; but Euphemia tried to put the matter into the
+brightest light.
+
+"Perhaps it may all turn out for the best," she said, "and you may
+be elected, and that would be splendid.  But it would be an awfully
+funny thing for a dog-fight to make you a vestry-man."
+
+I could not talk on this subject.  "Go on, Pomona," I said, trying
+to feel resigned to my shame, "and tell us about that poster on the
+fence."
+
+"I'll be to that almost right away," she said.  "It was two or
+three days after the dog-fight that I was down at the barn, and
+happenin' to look over to Old John's, I saw that tree-man there.
+He was a-showin' his book to John, and him and his wife and all the
+young ones was a-standin' there, drinkin' down them big peaches and
+pears as if they was all real.  I know'd he'd come here ag'in, for
+them fellers never gives you up; and I didn't know how to keep him
+away, for I didn't want to let the dogs loose on a man what, after
+all, didn't want to do no more harm than to talk the life out of
+you.  So I just happened to notice, as I came to the house, how
+kind of desolate everything looked, and I thought perhaps I might
+make it look worse, and he wouldn't care to deal here.  So I
+thought of puttin' up a poster like that, for nobody whose place
+was a-goin' to be sold for taxes would be likely to want trees.  So
+I run in the house, and wrote it quick and put it up.  And sure
+enough, the man he come along soon, and when he looked at that
+paper, and tried the gate, an' looked over the fence an' saw the
+house all shut up an' not a livin' soul about,--for I had both the
+dogs in the house with me,--he shook his head an' walked off, as
+much as to say, 'If that man had fixed his place up proper with my
+trees, he wouldn't 'a' come to this!'  An' then, as I found the
+poster worked so good, I thought it might keep other people from
+comin' a-botherin' around, and so I left it up; but I was a-goin'
+to be sure and take it down before you came."
+
+As it was now pretty late in the afternoon, I proposed that Pomona
+should postpone the rest of her narrative until evening.  She said
+that there was nothing else to tell that was very particular; and I
+did not feel as if I could stand anything more just now, even if it
+was very particular.
+
+When we were alone, I said to Euphemia:
+
+"If we ever have to go away from this place again--"
+
+"But we wont go away," she interrupted, looking up to me with as
+bright a face as she ever had, "at least not for a long, long, long
+time to come.  And I'm so glad you're to be a vestryman."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+POMONA TAKES A BRIDAL TRIP.
+
+
+Our life at Rudder Grange seemed to be in no way materially changed
+by my becoming a vestryman.  The cow gave about as much milk as
+before, and the hens laid the usual number of eggs.  Euphemia went
+to church with a little more of an air, perhaps, but as the wardens
+were never absent, and I was never, therefore, called upon to
+assist in taking up the collection, her sense of my position was
+not inordinately manifested.
+
+For a year or two, indeed, there was no radical change in anything
+about Rudder Grange, except in Pomona.  In her there was a change.
+She grew up.
+
+She performed this feat quite suddenly.  She was a young girl when
+she first came to us, and we had never considered her as anything
+else, when one evening she had a young man to see her.  Then we
+knew she had grown up.
+
+We made no objections to her visitors,--she had several, from time
+to time,--"for," said Euphemia, "suppose my parents had objected to
+your visits."  I could not consider the mere possibility of
+anything like this, and we gave Pomona all the ordinary
+opportunities for entertaining her visitors.  To tell the truth, I
+think we gave her more than the ordinary opportunities.  I know
+that Euphemia would wait on herself to almost any extent, rather
+than call upon Pomona, when the latter was entertaining an evening
+visitor in the kitchen or on the back porch.
+
+"Suppose my mother," she once remarked, in answer to a mild
+remonstrance from me in regard to a circumstance of this nature,--
+"suppose my mother had rushed into our presence when we were
+plighting our vows, and had told me to go down into the cellar and
+crack ice!"
+
+It was of no use to talk to Euphemia on such subjects; she always
+had an answer ready.
+
+"You don't want Pomona to go off and be married, do you?" I asked,
+one day as she was putting up some new muslin curtains in the
+kitchen.  "You seem to be helping her to do this all you can, and
+yet I don't know where on earth you will get another girl who will
+suit you so well."
+
+"I don't know, either," replied Euphemia, with a tack in her mouth,
+and I'm sure I don't want her to go.  But neither do I want winter
+to come, or to have to wear spectacles; but I suppose both of these
+things will happen, whether I like it or not."
+
+For some time after this Pomona had very little company, and we
+began to think that there was no danger of any present matrimonial
+engagement on her part,--a thought which was very gratifying to us,
+although we did not wish in any way to interfere with her
+prospects,--when, one afternoon, she quietly went up into the
+village and was married.
+
+Her husband was a tall young fellow, a son of a farmer in the
+county, who had occasionally been to see her, but whom she must
+have frequently met on her "afternoons out."
+
+When Pomona came home and told us this news we were certainly well
+surprised.
+
+"What on earth are we to do for a girl?" cried Euphemia.
+
+"You're to have me till you can get another one," said Pomona
+quietly.  "I hope you don't think I'd go 'way, and leave you
+without anybody."
+
+"But a wife ought to go to her husband," said Euphemia, "especially
+so recent a bride.  Why didn't you let me know all about it?  I
+would have helped to fit you out.  We would have given you the
+nicest kind of a little wedding."
+
+"I know that," said Pomona; "you're jus' good enough.  But I didn't
+want to put you to all that trouble--right in preserving-time too.
+An' he wanted it quiet, for he's awful backward about shows.  An'
+as I'm to go to live with his folks,--at least in a little house on
+the farm,--I might as well stay here as anywhere, even if I didn't
+want to, for I can't go there till after frost."
+
+"Why not?" I asked.
+
+"The chills and fever," said she.  "They have it awful down in that
+valley.  Why, he had a chill while we was bein' married, right at
+the bridal altar."
+
+"You don't say so!" exclaimed Euphemia.  "How dreadful!"
+
+"Yes, indeed," said Pomona.  "He must 'a' forgot it was his chill-
+day, and he didn't take his quinine, and so it come on him jus' as
+he was apromisin' to love an' pertect.  But he stuck it out, at the
+minister's house, and walked home by his-self to finish his chill."
+
+"And you didn't go with him?" cried Euphemia, indignantly.
+
+"He said, no.  It was better thus.  He felt it weren't the right
+thing to mingle the agur with his marriage vows.  He promised to
+take sixteen grains to-morrow, and so I came away.  He'll be all
+right in a month or so, an' then we'll go an' keep house.  You see
+it aint likely I could help him any by goin' there an' gettin' it
+myself."
+
+"Pomona," said Euphemia, "this is dreadful.  You ought to go and
+take a bridal tour and get him rid of those fearful chills."
+
+"I never thought of that," said Pomona, her face lighting up
+wonderfully.
+
+Now that Euphemia had fallen upon this happy idea, she never
+dropped it until she had made all the necessary plans, and had put
+them into execution.  In the course of a week she had engaged
+another servant, and had started Pomona and her husband off on a
+bridal-tour, stipulating nothing but that they should take plenty
+of quinine in their trunk.
+
+It was about three weeks after this, and Euphemia and I were
+sitting on our front steps,--I had come home early, and we had been
+potting some of the tenderest plants,--when Pomona walked in at the
+gate.  She looked well, and had on a very bright new dress.
+Euphemia noticed this the moment she came in.  We welcomed her
+warmly, for we felt a great interest in this girl, who had grown up
+in our family and under our care.
+
+"Have you had your bridal trip?" asked Euphemia.
+
+"Oh yes!" said Pomona.  "It's all over an' done with, an' we're
+settled in our house."
+
+"Well, sit right down here on the steps and tell us all about it,"
+said Euphemia, in a glow of delightful expectancy, and Pomona,
+nothing loth, sat down and told her tale.
+
+"You see," said she, untying her bonnet strings, to give an easier
+movement to her chin, "we didn't say where we was goin' when we
+started out, for the truth was we didn't know.  We couldn't afford
+to take no big trip, and yet we wanted to do the thing up jus' as
+right as we could, seein' as you had set your heart on it, an' as
+we had, too, for that matter.  Niagery Fall was what I wanted, but
+he said that it cost so much to see the sights there that he hadn't
+money to spare to take us there an' pay for all the sight-seein',
+too.  We might go, he said, without seein' the sights, or, if there
+was any way of seein' the sights without goin', that might do, but
+he couldn't do both.  So we give that up, and after thinkin' a good
+deal, we agreed to go to some other falls, which might come
+cheaper, an' may-be be jus' as good to begin on.  So we thought of
+Passaic Falls, up to Paterson, an' we went there, an' took a room
+at a little hotel, an' walked over to the falls.  But they wasn't
+no good, after all, for there wasn't no water runnin' over em.
+There was rocks and precipicers, an' direful depths, and everything
+for a good falls, except water, and that was all bein' used at the
+mills.  'Well, Miguel,' says I, 'this is about as nice a place for
+a falls as ever I see,' but--"
+
+"Miguel!" cried Euphemia.  "Is that your husband's name?"
+
+"Well, no," said Pomona, "it isn't.  His given name is Jonas, but I
+hated to call him Jonas, an' on a bridal trip, too.  He might jus'
+as well have had a more romantic-er name, if his parents had 'a'
+thought of it.  So I determined I'd give him a better one, while we
+was on our journey, anyhow, an' I changed his name to Miguel, which
+was the name of a Spanish count.  He wanted me to call him Jiguel,
+because, he said, that would have a kind of a floating smell of his
+old name, but I didn't never do it.  Well, neither of us didn't
+care to stay about no dry falls, so we went back to the hotel and
+got our supper, and begun to wonder what we should do next day.  He
+said we'd better put it off and dream about it, and make up our
+minds nex' mornin', which I agreed to, an', that evenin', as we was
+sittin' in our room I asked Miguel to tell me the story of his
+life.  He said, at first, it hadn't none, but when I seemed a
+kinder put out at this, he told me I mustn't mind, an' he would
+reveal the whole.  So he told me this story:
+
+"'My grandfather,' said he, 'was a rich and powerful Portugee, a-
+livin' on the island of Jamaica.  He had heaps o' slaves, an' owned
+a black brigantine, that he sailed in on secret voyages, an', when
+he come back, the decks an' the gunnels was often bloody, but
+nobody knew why or wherefore.  He was a big man with black hair an'
+very violent.  He could never have kept no help, if he hadn't owned
+'em, but he was so rich, that people respected him, in spite of all
+his crimes.  My grandmother was a native o' the Isle o' Wight.  She
+was a frail an' tender woman, with yeller hair, and deep blue eyes,
+an' gentle, an' soft, an' good to the poor.  She used to take
+baskits of vittles aroun' to sick folks, an' set down on the side
+o' their beds an' read "The Shepherd o' Salisbury Plains" to 'em.
+She hardly ever speaked above her breath, an' always wore white
+gowns with a silk kerchief a-folded placidly aroun' her neck.'
+'Them was awful different kind o' people,' I says to him, 'I wonder
+how they ever come to be married.'  'They never was married,' says
+he.  'Never married!' I hollers, a-jumpin' up from my chair, 'and
+you sit there carmly an' look me in the eye.'  'Yes,' says he,
+'they was never married.  They never met; one was my mother's
+father, and the other one my father's mother.  'Twas well they did
+not wed.'  'I should think so,' said I, 'an' now, what's the good
+of tellin' me a thing like that?'
+
+"'It's about as near the mark as most of the stories of people's
+lives, I reckon,' says he, 'an' besides I'd only jus' begun it.'
+
+"'Well, I don't want no more,' says I, an' I jus' tell this story
+of his to show what kind of stories he told about that time.  He
+said they was pleasant fictions, but I told him that if he didn't
+look out he'd hear 'em called by a good deal of a worse kind of a
+name than that.  The nex' mornin' he asked me what was my dream,
+an' I told him I didn't have exactly no dream about it, but my idea
+was to have somethin' real romantic for the rest of our bridal
+days.
+
+"'Well,' says he, 'what would you like?  I had a dream, but it
+wasn't no ways romantic, and I'll jus' fall in with whatever you'd
+like best.'
+
+"'All right,' says I, 'an' the most romantic-est thing that I can
+think of is for us to make-believe for the rest of this trip.  We
+can make-believe we're anything we please, an' if we think so in
+real earnest it will be pretty much the same thing as if we really
+was.  We aint likely to have no chance ag'in of being jus' what
+we've a mind to, an' so let's try it now.'
+
+"'What would you have a mind to be?' says he.
+
+"'Well,' says I, 'let's be an earl an' a earl-ess.'
+
+"'Earl-ess'?  says he, 'there's no such a person.'
+
+"'Why, yes there is, of course,' I says to him.  'What's a she-earl
+if she isn't a earl-ess?'
+
+"'Well, I don't know,' says he, 'never havin' lived with any of
+'em, but we'll let it go at that.  An' how do you want to work the
+thing out?'
+
+"'This way,' says I.  'You, Miguel--'
+
+"'Jiguel,' says he.
+
+"'The earl,' says I, not mindin' his interruption, 'an' me, your
+noble earl-ess, will go to some good place or other--it don't
+matter much jus' where, and whatever house we live in we'll call
+our castle an' we'll consider it's got draw-bridges an'
+portcullises an' moats an' secrit dungeons, an' we'll remember our
+noble ancesters, an' behave accordin'.  An' the people we meet we
+can make into counts and dukes and princes, without their knowin'
+anything about it; an' we can think our clothes is silk an' satin
+an' velwet, all covered with dimuns an' precious stones, jus' as
+well as not.'
+
+"'Jus' as well,' says he.
+
+"'An' then,' I went on, 'we can go an' have chi-VAL-rous
+adventures,--or make believe we're havin' 'em,--an' build up a
+atmosphere of romanticness aroun' us that'll carry us back--'
+
+"'To ole Virginny,' says he.
+
+"'No,' says I, 'for thousands of years, or at least enough back for
+the times of tournaments and chi-VAL-ry.'
+
+"'An' so your idea is that we make believe all these things, an'
+don't pay for none of 'em, is it?' says he.
+
+"'Yes,' says I; 'an' you, Miguel--'
+
+"'Jiguel,' says he.
+
+"'Can ask me, if you don't know what chi-VAL-ric or romantic thing
+you ought to do or to say so as to feel yourself truly an' reely a
+earl, for I've read a lot about these people, an' know jus' what
+ought to be did.'
+
+"Well, he set himself down an' thought a while, an' then he says,
+'All right.  We'll do that, an' we'll begin to-morrow mornin', for
+I've got a little business to do in the city which wouldn't be
+exactly the right thing for me to stoop to after I'm a earl, so
+I'll go in an' do it while I'm a common person, an' come back this
+afternoon, an you can walk about an' look at the dry falls, an'
+amuse yourself gen'rally, till I come back.'
+
+"'All right,' says I, an' off he goes.
+
+"He come back afore dark, an' the nex' mornin' we got ready to
+start off.
+
+"'Have you any particular place to go?' says he.
+
+"'No,' says I, 'one place is as likely to be as good as another for
+our style o' thing.  If it don't suit, we can imagine it does.'
+
+"'That'll do,' says he, an' we had our trunk sent to the station,
+and walked ourselves.  When we got there, he says to me,
+
+"Which number will you have, five or seven?'
+
+"'Either one will suit me, Earl Miguel,' says I.
+
+"'Jiguel,' says he, 'an' we'll make it seven.  An' now I'll go an'
+look at the time-table, an' we'll buy tickets for the seventh
+station from here.  The seventh station,' says he, comin' back, 'is
+Pokus.  We'll go to Pokus.'
+
+"So when the train come we got in, an' got out at Pokus.  It was a
+pretty sort of a place, out in the country, with the houses
+scattered a long ways apart, like stingy chicken-feed.
+
+"'Let's walk down this road,' says he, 'till we come to a good
+house for a castle, an' then we can ask 'em to take us to board,
+an' if they wont do it we'll go to the next, an' so on.'
+
+"'All right,' says I, glad enough to see how pat he entered into
+the thing.
+
+"We walked a good ways, an' passed some little houses that neither
+of us thought would do, without more imaginin' than would pay, till
+we came to a pretty big house near the river, which struck our
+fancy in a minute.  It was a stone house, an' it had trees aroun'
+it, there was a garden with a wall, an' things seemed to suit
+first-rate, so we made up our minds right off that we'd try this
+place.
+
+"'You wait here under this tree,' says he, 'an' I'll go an' ask 'em
+if they'll take us to board for a while.'
+
+"So I waits, an' he goes up to the gate, an' pretty soon he comes
+out an' says, 'All right, they'll take us, an' they'll send a man
+with a wheelbarrer to the station for our trunk.'  So in we goes.
+The man was a country-like lookin' man, an' his wife was a very
+pleasant woman.  The house wasn't furnished very fine, but we
+didn't care for that, an' they gave us a big room that had rafters
+instid of a ceilin', an' a big fire-place, an' that, I said, was
+jus' exac'ly what we wanted.  The room was almos' like a donjon
+itself, which he said he reckoned had once been a kitchin, but I
+told him that a earl hadn't nothin' to do with kitchins, an' that
+this was a tapestry chamber, an' I'd tell him all about the strange
+figgers on the embroidered hangin's, when the shadders begun to
+fall.
+
+"It rained a little that afternoon, an' we stayed in our room, an'
+hung our clothes an' things about on nails an' hooks, an' made
+believe they was armor an' ancient trophies an' portraits of a long
+line of ancesters.  I did most of the make-believin' but he agreed
+to ev'rything.  The man who kep' the house's wife brought us our
+supper about dark, because she said she thought we might like to
+have it together cozy, an' so we did, an' was glad enough of it;
+an' after supper we sat before the fire-place, where we made-
+believe the flames was a-roarin' an' cracklin' an' a-lightin' up
+the bright places on the armor a-hangin' aroun', while the storm--
+which we made-believe--was a-ragin' an' whirlin' outside.  I told
+him a long story about a lord an' a lady, which was two or three
+stories I had read, run together, an' we had a splendid time.  It
+all seemed real real to me."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+IN WHICH TWO NEW FRIENDS DISPORT THEMSELVES.
+
+
+"The nex' mornin' was fine an' nice," continued Pomona, "an' after
+our breakfast had been brought to us, we went out in the grounds to
+take a walk.  There was lots of trees back of the house, with walks
+among 'em, an' altogether it was so ole-timey an' castleish that I
+was as happy as a lark.
+
+"'Come along, Earl Miguel,' I says; 'let us tread a measure 'neath
+these mantlin' trees.'
+
+"'All right,' says he.  'Your Jiguel attends you.  An' what might
+our noble second name be?  What is we earl an' earl-ess of?'
+
+"'Oh, anything,' says I.  'Let's take any name at random.'
+
+"'All right,' says he.  'Let it be random.  Earl an' Earl-ess
+Random.  Come along.'
+
+"So we walks about, I feelin' mighty noble an' springy, an' afore
+long we sees another couple a-walkin' about under the trees.
+
+"'Who's them?' says I.
+
+"'Don't know,' says he, 'but I expect they're some o' the other
+boarders.  The man said he had other boarders when I spoke to him
+about takin' us.'
+
+"'Let's make-believe they're a count an' count says I.  'Count an'
+Countess of--'
+
+"'Milwaukee,' says he.
+
+"I didn't think much of this for a noble name, but still it would
+do well enough, an' so we called 'em the Count an' Countess of
+Milwaukee, an' we kep' on a meanderin'.  Pretty soon he gets tired
+an' says he was agoin' back to the house to have a smoke because he
+thought it was time to have a little fun which weren't all
+imaginations, an' I says to him to go along, but it would be the
+hardest thing in this world for me to imagine any fun in smokin'.
+He laughed an' went back, while I walked on, a-makin'-believe a
+page, in blue puffed breeches, was a-holdin' up my train, which was
+of light-green velvet trimmed with silver lace.  Pretty soon,
+turnin' a little corner, I meets the Count and Countess of
+Milwaukee.  She was a small lady, dressed in black, an' he was a
+big fat man about fifty years old, with a grayish beard.  They both
+wore little straw hats, exac'ly alike, an' had on green carpet-
+slippers.
+
+"They stops when they sees me, an' the lady she bows and says
+'good-mornin',' an' then she smiles, very pleasant, an' asks if I
+was a-livin' here, an' when I said I was, she says she was too, for
+the present, an' what was my name.  I had half a mind to say the
+Earl-ess Random, but she was so pleasant and sociable that I didn't
+like to seem to be makin' fun, an' so I said I was Mrs. De
+Henderson.
+
+"'An' I,' says she, 'am Mrs. General Andrew Jackson, widow of the
+ex-President of the United States.  I am staying here on business
+connected with the United States Bank.  This is my brother,' says
+she, pointin' to the big man.
+
+"'How d'ye do?' says he, a-puttin' his hands together, turnin' his
+toes out an' makin' a funny little bow.  'I am General Tom Thumb,'
+he says in a deep, gruff voice, 'an' I've been before all the
+crown-ed heads of Europe, Asia, Africa, America an' Australia,--all
+a's but one,--an' I'm waitin' here for a team of four little milk-
+white oxen, no bigger than tall cats, which is to be hitched to a
+little hay-wagon, which I am to ride in, with a little pitch-fork
+an' real farmer's clothes, only small.  This will come to-morrow,
+when I will pay for it an' ride away to exhibit.  It may be here
+now, an' I will go an' see.  Good-bye.'
+
+"'Good-bye, likewise,' says the lady.  'I hope you'll have all
+you're thinkin' you're havin', an' more too, but less if you'd like
+it.  Farewell.'  An' away they goes.
+
+"Well, you may be sure, I stood there amazed enough, an' mad too
+when I heard her talk about my bein' all I was a-thinkin' I was.  I
+was sure my husband--scarce two weeks old, a husband--had told all.
+It was too bad.  I wished I had jus' said I was the Earl-ess of
+Random an' brassed it out.
+
+"I rushed back an' foun' him smokin' a pipe on a back porch.  I
+charged him with his perfidy, but he vowed so earnest that he had
+not told these people of our fancies, or ever had spoke to 'em,
+that I had to believe him.
+
+"'I expec',' says he, 'that they're jus' makin'-believe--as we are.
+There aint no patent on make-believes.'
+
+"This didn't satisfy me, an' as he seemed to be so careless about
+it I walked away, an' left him to his pipe.  I determined to go
+take a walk along some of the country roads an' think this thing
+over for myself.  I went aroun' to the front gate, where the woman
+of the house was a-standin' talkin' to somebody, an' I jus' bowed
+to her, for I didn't feel like sayin' anything, an' walked past
+her.
+
+"'Hello!' said she, jumpin' in front of me an' shuttin' the gate.
+'You can't go out here.  If you want to walk you can walk about in
+the grounds.  There's lots of shady paths.'
+
+"'Can't go out!' says I.  'Can't go out!  What do you mean by
+that?'
+
+"'I mean jus' what I say,' said she, an' she locked the gate.
+
+"I was so mad that I could have pushed her over an' broke the gate,
+but I thought that if there was anything of that kind to do I had a
+husband whose business it was to attend to it, an' so I runs aroun'
+to him to tell him.  He had gone in, but I met Mrs. Jackson an' her
+brother.
+
+"'What's the matter?' said she, seein' what a hurry I was in.
+
+"'That woman at the gate,' I said, almost chokin' as I spoke, 'wont
+let me out.'
+
+"'She wont?' said Mrs. Jackson.  'Well, that's a way she has.  Four
+times the Bank of the United States has closed its doors before I
+was able to get there, on account of that woman's obstinacy about
+the gate.  Indeed, I have not been to the Bank at all yet, for of
+course it is of no use to go after banking hours.'
+
+"'An' I believe, too,' said her brother in his heavy voice, 'that
+she has kept out my team of little oxen.  Otherwise it would be
+here now.'
+
+"I couldn't stand any more of this an' ran into our room where my
+husband was.  When I told him what had happened, he was real sorry.
+
+"'I didn't know you thought of going out,' he said, 'or I would
+have told you all about it.  An' now sit down an' quiet yourself,
+an' I'll tell you jus' how things is.'  So down we sits, an' says
+he, jus' as carm as a summer cloud, 'My dear, this is a lunertic
+asylum.  Now, don't jump,' he says; 'I didn't bring you here,
+because I thought you was crazy, but because I wanted you to see
+what kind of people they was who imagined themselves earls and
+earl-esses, an' all that sort o' thing, an' to have an idea how the
+thing worked after you'd been doing it a good while an' had got
+used to it.  I thought it would be a good thing, while I was Earl
+Jiguel and you was a noble earl-ess, to come to a place where
+people acted that way.  I knowed you had read lots o' books about
+knights and princes an' bloody towers, an' that you knowed all
+about them things, but I didn't suppose you did know how them same
+things looked in these days, an' a lunertic asylum was the only
+place where you could see 'em.  So I went to a doctor I knowed,' he
+says, 'an' got a certificate from him to this private institution,
+where we could stay for a while an' get posted on romantics.'
+
+"'Then,' says I, 'the upshot was that you wanted to teach a
+lesson.'
+
+"'Jus' that,' says he.
+
+"'All right,' says I; 'it's teached.  An' now let's get out of this
+as quick as we kin.'
+
+"'That'll suit me,' he says, 'an' we'll leave by the noon train.
+I'll go an' see about the trunk bein' sent down.'
+
+"So off he went to see the man who kept the house, while I falls to
+packin' up the trunk as fast as I could."
+
+"Weren't you dreadfully angry at him?" asked Euphemia, who, having
+a romantic streak in her own composition, did not sympathize
+altogether with this heroic remedy for Pomona's disease.
+
+"No, ma'am," said Pomona, "not long.  When I thought of Mrs.
+General Jackson and Tom Thumb, I couldn't help thinkin' that I must
+have looked pretty much the same to my husband, who, I knowed now,
+had only been makin'-believe to make-believe.  An' besides, I
+couldn't be angry very long for laughin, for when he come back in a
+minute, as mad as a March hare, an' said they wouldn't let me out
+nor him nuther, I fell to laughin' ready to crack my sides.
+
+"'They say,' said he, as soon as he could speak straight, 'that we
+can't go out without another certificate from the doctor.  I told
+'em I'd go myself an' see him about it but they said no, I
+couldn't, for if they did that way everybody who ever was sent here
+would be goin' out the next day to see about leavin'.  I didn't
+want to make no fuss, so I told them I'd write a letter to the
+doctor and tell him to send an order that would soon show them
+whether we could go out or not.  They said that would be the best
+thing to do, an so I'm goin' to write it this minute,'--which he
+did.
+
+"'How long will we have to wait?' says I, when the letter was done.
+
+"'Well,' says he, 'the doctor can't get this before to-morrow
+mornin', an' even if he answers right away, we won't get our order
+to go out until the next day.  So we'll jus' have to grin an' bear
+it for a day an' a half.'
+
+"'This is a lively old bridal-trip,' said I,--'dry falls an' a
+lunertic asylum.'
+
+"'We'll try to make the rest of it better,' said he.
+
+"But the next day wasn't no better.  We staid in our room all day,
+for we didn't care to meet Mrs. Jackson an' her crazy brother, an'
+I'm sure we didn't want to see the mean creatures who kept the
+house.  We knew well enough that they only wanted us to stay so
+that they could get more board-money out of us."
+
+"I should have broken out," cried Euphemia.  "I would never have
+staid an hour in that place, after I found out what it was,
+especially on a bridal trip."
+
+"If we'd done that," said Pomona, "they'd have got men after us,
+an' then everybody would have thought we was real crazy.  We made
+up our minds to wait for the doctor's letter, but it wasn't much
+fun.  An' I didn't tell no romantic stories to fill up the time.
+We sat down an' behaved like the commonest kind o' people.  You
+never saw anybody sicker of romantics than I was when I thought of
+them two loons that called themselves Mrs. Andrew Jackson and
+General Tom Thumb.  I dropped Miguel altogether, an' he dropped
+Jiguel, which was a relief to me, an' I took strong to Jonas, even
+callin' him Jone, which I consider a good deal uglier an' commoner
+even than Jonas.  He didn't like this much, but said that if it
+would help me out of the Miguel, he didn't care.
+
+"Well, on the mornin' of the next day I went into the little front
+room that they called the office, to see if there was a letter for
+us yet, an' there wasn't nobody there to ask.  But I saw a pile of
+letters under a weight on the table, an' I jus' looked at these to
+see if one of 'em was for us, an' if there wasn't the very letter
+Jone had written to the doctor!  They'd never sent it!  I rushes
+back to Jone an' tells him, an' he jus' set an' looked at me
+without sayin' a word.  I didn't wonder he couldn't speak.
+
+"'I'll go an' let them people know what I think of 'em,' says I.
+
+"'Don't do that,' said Jone, catchin' me by the sleeve.  'It wont
+do no good.  Leave the letter there, an' don't say nothin' about
+it.  We'll stay here till afternoon quite quiet, an' then we'll go
+away.  That garden wall isn't high.'
+
+"'An' how about the trunk?' says I.
+
+"'Oh, we'll take a few things in our pockets, an' lock up the
+trunk, an' ask the doctor to send for it when we get to the city.'
+
+"'All right,' says I.  An' we went to work to get ready to leave.
+
+"About five o'clock in the afternoon, when it was a nice time to
+take a walk under the trees, we meandered quietly down to a corner
+of the back wall, where Jone thought it would be rather convenient
+to get over.  He hunted up a short piece of board which he leaned
+up ag'in the wall, an' then he put his foot on the top of that an'
+got hold of the top of the wall an' climbed up, as easy as nuthin'.
+Then he reached down to help me step onto the board.  But jus' as
+he was agoin' to take me by the hand: 'Hello!' says he.  'Look a-
+there!'  An' I turned round an' looked, an' if there wasn't Mrs.
+Andrew Jackson an' General Tom Thumb a-walkin' down the path.
+
+"'What shall we do?' says I.
+
+"'Come along,' says he.  'We aint a-goin' to stop for them.  Get
+up, all the same.'
+
+"I tried to get up as he said, but it wasn't so easy for me on
+account of my not bein' such a high stepper as Jone, an' I was a
+good while a-gettin' a good footin' on the board.
+
+"Mrs. Jackson an' the General, they came right up to us an' set
+down on a bench which was fastened between two trees near the wall.
+An' there they set, a-lookin' steady at us with their four little
+eyes, like four empty thimbles.
+
+"'You appear to be goin' away,' says Mrs. Jackson.
+
+"'Yes,' says Jone from the top of the wall.  We're a-goin' to take
+a slight stroll outside, this salu-brious evenin'.'
+
+"'Do you think,' says she, 'that the United States Bank would be
+open this time of day?'
+
+"'Oh no,' says Jone, 'the banks all close at three o'clock.  It's a
+good deal after that now.'
+
+"'But if I told the officers who I was, wouldn't that make a
+difference?' says she.  'Wouldn't they go down an' open the bank?'
+
+"'Not much,' says Jone, givin' a pull which brought me right up to
+the top o' the wall an' almost clean down the other side, with one
+jerk.  'I never knowed no officers that would do that.  But,' says
+he, a kind o' shuttin' his eyes so that she shouldn't see he was
+lyin', 'we'll talk about that when we come back.'
+
+"'If you see that team of little oxen,' says the big man, 'send 'em
+'round to the front gate.'
+
+"'All right,' says Jone; an' he let me down the outside of the wall
+as if I had been a bag o' horse-feed.
+
+"'But if the bank isn't open you can't pay for it when it does
+come,' we heard the old lady a-sayin' as we hurried off.
+
+"We didn't lose no time agoin' down to that station, an' it's lucky
+we didn't, for a train for the city was comin' jus' as we got
+there, an' we jumped aboard without havin' no time to buy tickets.
+There wasn't many people in our car, an we got a seat together.
+
+"'Now then,' says Jone, as the cars went abuzzin' along, 'I feel as
+if I was really on a bridal-trip, which I mus' say I didn't at that
+there asylum.'
+
+"An' then I said: 'I should think not,' an' we both bust out a-
+laughin', as well we might, feelin' sich a change of surroundin's.
+
+"'Do you think,' says somebody behind us, when we'd got through
+laughin', 'that if I was to send a boy up to the cashier he would
+either come down or send me the key of the bank?'
+
+"We both turned aroun' as quick as lightnin', an' if there wasn't
+them two lunertics in the seat behind us!
+
+"It nearly took our breaths away to see them settin' there, staring
+at us with their thimble eyes, an' a-wearin' their little straw
+hats, both alike.
+
+"'How on the livin' earth did you two got here?' says I, as soon as
+I could speak.
+
+"'Oh, we come by the same way you come--by the tem-per-ary stairs,'
+says Mrs. Jackson.  'We thought if it was too late to draw any
+money to-night, it might be well to be on hand bright an' early in
+the mornin'.  An' so we follered you two, as close as we could,
+because we knew you could take us right to the very bank doors, an'
+we didn't know the way ourselves, not never havin' had no occasion
+to attend to nothin' of this kind before.'
+
+"Jone an' I looked at each other, but we didn't speak for a minute.
+
+"'Then,' says I, 'here's a pretty kittle o' fish.'
+
+"'I should kinder say so,' says Jone.  'We've got these here two
+lunertics on our hands, sure enough, for there ain't no train back
+to Pokus tonight, an' I wouldn't go back with 'em if there was.  We
+must keep an eye on 'em till we can see the doctor to-morrow.'
+
+"'I suppose we must,' said I, 'but this don't seem as much like a
+bridal-trip as it did a while ago.'
+
+"'You're right there,' says Jone.
+
+"When the conductor came along we had to pay the fare of them two
+lunertics, besides our own, for neither of 'em had a cent about
+'em.  When we got to town we went to a smallish hotel, near the
+ferry, where Jone knowed the man who kep' it, who wouldn't bother
+about none of us havin' a scrap of baggage, knowin' he'd get his
+money all the same, out of either Jone or his father.  The General
+an' his sister looked a kind o' funny in their little straw hats
+an' green carpet-slippers, an' the clerk didn't know whether he
+hadn't forgot how to read writin' when the big man put down the
+names of General Tom Thumb and Mrs. ex-President Andrew Jackson,
+which he wasn't ex-President anyway, bein' dead; but Jone he
+whispered they was travelin' under nommys dess plummys (I told him
+to say that), an' he would fix it all right in the mornin'.  An'
+then we got some supper, which it took them two lunertics a long
+time to eat, for they was all the time forgettin' what particular
+kind o' business they was about, an' then we was showed to our
+rooms.  They had two rooms right across the hall from ours.  We
+hadn't been inside our room five minutes before Mrs. General
+Jackson come a-knockin' at the door.
+
+"'Look a-here,' she says to me, 'there's a unforeseen contingency
+in my room.  An' it smells.'
+
+"So I went right in, an' sure enough it did smell, for she had
+turned on all the gases, besides the one that was lighted.
+
+"'What did you do that for?' says I, a-turnin' them off as fast as
+I could.
+
+"'I'd like to know what they're made for,' says she, 'if they isn't
+to be turned on.'
+
+"When I told Jone about this he looked real serious, an' jus' then
+a waiter came upstairs an' went into the big man's room.  In a
+minute he come out an' says to Jone an' me, a-grinnin':
+
+"'We can't suit him no better in this house.'
+
+"'What does he want?' asks Jone.
+
+"'Why, he wants a smaller bed,' says the waiter.  'He says he can't
+sleep in a bed as big as that, an' we haven't none smaller in this
+house, which he couldn't get into if we had, in my opinion,' says
+he.
+
+"'All right,' says Jone.  'Jus' you go downstairs, an' I'll fix
+him.'  So the man goes off, still a-grinnin'.  'I tell you what it
+is,' says Jone, 'it wont do to let them two lunertics have rooms to
+themselves.  They'll set this house afire or turn it upside down in
+the middle of the night, if they has.  There's nuthin' to be done
+but for you to sleep with the woman an' for me to sleep with the
+man, an' to keep 'em from cuttin' up till mornin'.'
+
+"So Jone he went into the room where General Tom Thumb was a-
+settin' with his hat on, a-lookin' doleful at the bed, an' says he:
+
+"'What's the matter with the bed?'
+
+"'Oh, it's too large entirely,' says the General.  'It wouldn't do
+for me to sleep in a bed like that.  It would ruin my character as
+a genuine Thumb.'
+
+"'Well,' says Jone, 'it's nearly two times too big for you, but if
+you an' me was both to sleep in it, it would be about right,
+wouldn't it?'
+
+"'Oh yes,' says the General.  An' he takes off his hat, an' Jone
+says good-night to me an' shuts the door.  Our room was better than
+Mrs. General Jackson's, so I takes her in there, an' the fust thing
+she does is to turn on all the gases.
+
+"'Stop that!' I hollers.  'If you do that again,--I'll--I'll break
+the United States Bank tomorrow!'
+
+"'How'll you do that?' says she.
+
+"'I'll draw out all my capital,' says I.
+
+"'I hope really you wont,' says she, 'till I've been there,' an'
+she leans out of the open winder to look into the street, but while
+she was a-lookin' out I see her left hand a-creepin' up to the gas
+by the winder, that wasn't lighted.  I felt mad enough to take her
+by the feet an' pitch her out, as you an the boarder," said Pomona,
+turning to me, "h'isted me out of the canal-boat winder."
+
+This, by the way, was the first intimation we had had that Pomona
+knew how she came to fall out of that window.
+
+"But I didn't do it," she continued, "for there wasn't no soft
+water underneath for her to fall into.  After we went to bed I kep'
+awake for a long time, bein' afraid she'd get up in the night an'
+turn on all the gases and smother me alive.  But I fell asleep at
+last, an' when I woke up, early in the mornin', the first thing I
+did was to feel for that lunertic.  But she was gone!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+IN WHICH AN OLD FRIEND APPEARS AND THE BRIDAL TRIP TAKES A FRESH
+START.
+
+
+"Gone?" cried Euphemia, who, with myself, had been listening most
+intently to Pomona's story.
+
+"Yes," continued Pomona, "she was gone.  I give one jump out of bed
+and felt the gases, but they was all right.  But she was gone, an'
+her clothes was gone.  I dressed, as pale as death, I do expect,
+an' hurried to Jone's room, an' he an' me an' the big man was all
+ready in no time to go an' look for her.  General Tom Thumb didn't
+seem very anxious, but we made him hurry up an' come along with us.
+We couldn't afford to leave him nowheres.  The clerk down-stairs--a
+different one from the chap who was there the night before--said
+that a middle-aged, elderly lady came down about an hour before an'
+asked him to tell her the way to the United States Bank, an' when
+he told her he didn't know of any such bank, she jus' stared at
+him, an' wanted to know what he was put there for.  So he didn't
+have no more to say to her, an' she went out, an' he didn't take no
+notice which way she went.  We had the same opinion about him that
+Mrs. Jackson had, but we didn't stop to tell him so.  We hunted up
+an' down the streets for an hour or more; we asked every policeman
+we met if he'd seen her; we went to a police station; we did
+everything we could think of, but no Mrs. Jackson turned up.  Then
+we was so tired an' hungry that we went into some place or other
+an' got our breakfast.  When we started out ag'in, we kep' on up
+one street an' down another, an' askin' everybody who looked as if
+they had two grains of sense,--which most of 'em didn't look as if
+they had mor'n one, an' that was in use to get 'em to where they
+was goin.'  At last, a little ways down a small street, we seed a
+crowd, an' the minute we see it Jone an' me both said in our inside
+hearts: 'There she is!'  An' sure enough, when we got there, who
+should we see, with a ring of street-loafers an' boys around her,
+but Mrs. Andrew Jackson, with her little straw hat an' her green
+carpet-slippers, a-dancin' some kind of a skippin' fandango, an' a-
+holdin' out her skirts with the tips of her fingers.  I was jus'
+agoin' to rush in an' grab her when a man walks quick into the ring
+and touches her on the shoulder.  The minute I seed him I knowed
+him.  It was our old boarder!"
+
+"It was?" exclaimed Euphemia.
+
+"Yes it was truly him, an' I didn't want him to see me there in
+such company, an' he most likely knowin' I was on my bridal-trip,
+an' so I made a dive at my bonnet to see if I had a vail on; an'
+findin' one, I hauled it down.
+
+"'Madam,' says the boarder, very respectful, to Mrs. Jackson,
+'where do you live?  Can't I take you home?'  'No, sir,' says she,
+'at least not now.  If you have a carriage, you may come for me
+after a while.  I am waiting for the Bank of the United States to
+open, an' until which time I must support myself on the light
+fantastic toe,' an' then she tuk up her skirts, an' begun to dance
+ag'in.  But she didn't make mor'n two skips before I rushed in, an'
+takin' her by the arm hauled her out o' the ring.  An' then up
+comes the big man with his face as red as fire.  'Look' here!' says
+he to her, as if he was ready to eat her up.  'Did you draw every
+cent of that money?'  'Not yet, not yet,' says she.  'You did, you
+purse-proud cantalope,' says he.  'You know very well you did, an'
+now I'd like to know where my ox-money is to come from.'  But Jone
+an' me didn't intend to wait for no sich talk as this, an' he tuk
+the man by the arm, and I tuk the old woman, an' we jus' walked 'em
+off.  The boarder he told the loafers to get out an' go home, an'
+none of 'em follered us, for they know'd if they did he'd a batted
+'em over the head.  But he comes up alongside o' me, as I was a'
+walkin' behind with Mrs. Jackson, an' says he: 'How d'ye do,
+Pomona?'  I must say I felt as if I could slip in between two
+flagstones, but as I couldn't get away, I said I was pretty well.
+'I heared you was on your bridal trip,' says he ag'in; 'is this
+it?'  It was jus' like him to know that, an' as there was no help
+for it, I said it was.  'Is that your husband?' says he, pointin'
+to Jone.  'Yes,' says I.  'It was very good in him to come along,'
+says he.  'Is these two your groomsman and bridesmaid?'  'No sir,'
+says I.  'They're crazy.'  'No wonder,' says he.  'It's enough to
+drive 'em so, to see you two,' an' then he went ahead an' shook
+hands with Jone, an' told him he'd know'd me a long time; but he
+didn't say nuthin' about havin' histed me out of a winder, for
+which I was obliged to him.  An' then he come back to me an' says
+he, 'Good-mornin', I must go to the office.  I hope you'll have a
+good time for the rest of your trip.  If you happen to run short o'
+lunertics, jus' let me know, and I'll furnish you with another
+pair.'  'All right,' says I; 'but you mustn't bring your little
+girl along.'
+
+"He kinder laughed at this, as we walked away, an' then he turned
+around an' come back, and says he, 'Have you been to any the-ay-
+ters, or anything, since you've been in town?'  'No,' says I, 'not
+one.'  'Well,' says he, 'you ought to go.  Which do you like best,
+the the-ay-ter, the cir-cus, or wild-beasts?'  I did really like
+the the-ay-ter best, havin' thought of bein' a play-actor, as you
+know, but I considered I'd better let that kind o' thing slide jus'
+now, as bein' a little too romantic, right after the 'sylum, an' so
+I says, 'I've been once to a circus, an' once to a wild-beast
+garden, an' I like 'em both.  I hardly know which I like best--the
+roarin' beasts, a-prancin' about in their cages, with the smell of
+blood an' hay, an' the towerin' elephants; or the horses, an' the
+music, an' the gauzy figgers at the circus, an' the splendid
+knights in armor an' flashin' pennants, all on fiery steeds, a-
+plungin' ag'in the sides of the ring, with their flags a-flyin' in
+the grand entry,' says I, real excited with what I remembered about
+these shows.
+
+"'Well,' says he, 'I don't wonder at your feelin's.  An' now,
+here's two tickets for to-night, which you an' your husband can
+have, if you like, for I can't go.  They're to a meetin' of the
+Hudson County Enter-mo-logical Society, over to Hoboken, at eight
+o'clock.'
+
+"'Over to Hoboken!' says I; 'that's a long way.'
+
+"'Oh no, it isn't,' says he.  'An' it wont cost you a cent, but the
+ferry.  They couldn't have them shows in the city, for, if the
+creatures was to get loose, there's no knowin' what might happen.
+So take 'em, an' have as much fun as you can for the rest of your
+trip.  Good-bye!'  An' off he went.
+
+"Well, we kep' straight on to the doctor's, an' glad we was when we
+got there, an' mad he was when we lef' Mrs. Jackson an' the General
+on his hands, for we wouldn't have no more to do with 'em, an' he
+couldn't help undertaking' to see that they got back to the asylum.
+I thought at first he wouldn't lift a finger to get us our trunk;
+but he cooled down after a bit, an' said he hoped we'd try some
+different kind of institution for the rest of our trip, which we
+said we thought we would.
+
+"That afternoon we gawked around, a-lookin' at all the outside
+shows, for Jone said he'd have to be pretty careful of his money
+now, an' he was glad when I told him I had two free tickets in my
+pocket for a show in the evenin.'
+
+"As we was a-walkin' down to the ferry, after supper, says he:
+
+"'Suppose you let me have a look at them tickets.'
+
+"So I hands 'em to him.  He reads one of 'em, and then he reads the
+other, which he needn't 'a' done, for they was both alike, an' then
+he turns to me, an' says he:
+
+"'What kind of a man is your boarder-as-was?'
+
+"It wasn't the easiest thing in the world to say jus' what he was,
+but I give Jone the idea, in a general sort of way, that he was
+pretty lively.
+
+"'So I should think,' says he.  'He's been tryin' a trick on us,
+and sendin' us to the wrong place.  It's rather late in the season
+for a show of the kind, but the place we ought to go to is a
+potato-field.'
+
+"'What on earth are you talkin' about?' says I, dumbfoundered.
+
+"'Well,' says he, 'it's a trick he's been playin'.  He thought a
+bridal trip like ours ought to have some sort of a outlandish wind-
+up, an' so he sent us to this place, which is a meetin' of chaps
+who are agoin' to talk about insec's,--principally potato-bugs, I
+expec'--an' anything stupider than that, I s'pose your boarder-as-
+was couldn't think of, without havin' a good deal o' time to
+consider.'
+
+"'It's jus' like him,' says I.  'Let's turn round and go back,'
+which we did, prompt.
+
+"We gave the tickets to a little boy who was sellin' papers, but I
+don't believe he went.
+
+"'Now then,' says Jone, after he'd been thinkin' awhile, 'there'll
+be no more foolin' on this trip.  I've blocked out the whole of the
+rest of it, an' we'll wind up a sight better than that boarder-as-
+was has any idea of.  To-morrow we'll go to father's an' if the old
+gentleman has got any money on the crops, which I expec' he has, by
+this time, I'll take up a part o' my share, an' we'll have a trip
+to Washington, an' see the President, an' Congress, an' the White
+House, an' the lamp always a-burnin' before the Supreme Court, an'--'
+
+"'Don't say no more, says I, 'it's splendid!'
+
+"So, early the nex' day, we goes off jus' as fast as trains would
+take us to his father's, an' we hadn't been there mor'n ten
+minutes, before Jone found out he had been summoned on a jury.
+
+"'When must you go?' says I, when he come, lookin' a kind o' pale,
+to tell me this.
+
+"'Right off,' says he.  'The court meets this mornin'.  If I don't
+hurry up, I'll have some of 'em after me.  But I wouldn't cry about
+it.  I don't believe the case'll last more'n a day.'
+
+"The old man harnessed up an' took Jone to the court-house, an' I
+went too, for I might as well keep up the idea of a bridal-trip as
+not.  I went up into the gallery, and Jone, he was set among the
+other men in the jury-box.
+
+"The case was about a man named Brown, who married the half-sister
+of a man named Adams, who afterward married Brown's mother, and
+sold Brown a house he had got from Brown's grandfather, in trade
+for half a grist-mill, which the other half of was owned by Adams's
+half-sister's first husband, who left all his property to a soup
+society, in trust, till his son should come of age, which he never
+did, but left a will which give his half of the mill to Brown, and
+the suit was between Brown and Adams and Brown again, and Adams's
+half-sister, who was divorced from Brown, and a man named Ramsey,
+who had put up a new over-shot wheel to the grist-mill."
+
+"Oh my!" exclaimed Euphemia.  "How could you remember all that?"
+
+"I heard it so often, I couldn't help remembering it," replied
+Pomona.  And she went on with her narrative.
+
+"That case wasn't a easy one to understand, as you may see for
+yourselves, and it didn't get finished that day.  They argyed over
+it a full week.  When there wasn't no more witnesses to carve up,
+one lawyer made a speech, an' he set that crooked case so straight,
+that you could see through it from the over-shot wheel clean back
+to Brown's grandfather.  Then another feller made a speech, and he
+set the whole thing up another way.  It was jus' as clear, to look
+through, but it was another case altogether, no more like the other
+one than a apple-pie is like a mug o' cider.  An' then they both
+took it up, an' they swung it around between them, till it was all
+twisted an' knotted an' wound up, an' tangled, worse than a skein
+o' yarn in a nest o' kittens, an' then they give it to the jury.
+
+"Well, when them jurymen went out, there wasn't none of 'em, as
+Jone tole me afterward, as knew whether is was Brown or Adams as
+was dead, or whether the mill was to grind soup, or to be run by
+soup-power.  Of course they couldn't agree; three of 'em wanted to
+give a verdict for the boy that died, two of 'em was for Brown's
+grandfather, an' the rest was scattered, some goin' in for damages
+to the witnesses, who ought to get somethin' for havin' their char-
+ac-ters ruined.  Jone he jus' held back, ready to jine the other
+eleven as soon as they'd agree.  But they couldn't do it, an' they
+was locked up three days and four nights.  You'd better believe I
+got pretty wild about it, but I come to court every day an' waited
+an' waited, bringin' somethin' to eat in a baskit.
+
+"One day, at dinner-time, I seed the judge astandin' at the court-
+room door, a-wipin' his forrid with a handkerchief, an' I went up
+to him an' said, 'Do you think, sir, they'll get through this thing
+soon?'
+
+"'I can't say, indeed,' said he.  'Are you interested in the case?'
+
+"'I should think I was,' said I, an' then I told him about Jone's
+bein' a juryman, an' how we was on our bridal-trip.
+
+"'You've got my sympathy, madam,' says he, 'but it's a difficult
+case to decide, an' I don't wonder it takes a good while.'
+
+"'Nor I nuther,' says I, 'an' my opinion about these things is,
+that if you'd jus' have them lawyers shut up in another room, an'
+make 'em do their talkin' to theirselves, the jury could keep their
+minds clear, and settle the cases in no time.'
+
+"'There's some sense in that, madam,' says he, an' then he went
+into court ag'in.
+
+"Jone never had no chance to jine in with the other fellers, for
+they couldn't agree, an' they were all discharged, at last.  So the
+whole thing went for nuthin.
+
+"When Jone come out, he looked like he'd been drawn through a pump-
+log, an' he says to me, tired-like,
+
+"'Has there been a frost?'
+
+"'Yes,' says I, 'two of 'em.'
+
+"'All right, then,' says he.  'I've had enough of bridal-trips,
+with their dry falls, their lunatic asylums, and their jury-boxes.
+Let's go home and settle down.  We needn't be afraid, now that
+there's been a frost.'"
+
+"Oh, why will you live in such a dreadful place?" cried Euphemia.
+"You ought to go somewhere where you needn't be afraid of chills."
+
+"That's jus' what I thought, ma'am," returned Pomona.  "But Jone
+an' me got a disease-map of this country an' we looked all over it
+careful, an' wherever there wasn't chills there was somethin' that
+seemed a good deal wuss to us.  An' says Jone, 'If I'm to have
+anything the matter with me, give me somethin' I'm used to.  It
+don't do for a man o' my time o' life to go changin' his
+diseases.'"
+
+"So home we went.  An' there we is now.  An' as this is the end of
+the bridal-trip story, I'll go an' take a look at the cow an' the
+chickens an' the horse, if you don't mind."
+
+Which we didn't,--and we gladly went with her over the estate.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+IN WHICH WE TAKE A VACATION AND LOOK FOR DAVID DUTTON.
+
+
+It was about noon of a very fair July day, in the next summer, when
+Euphemia and myself arrived at the little town where we were to
+take the stage up into the mountains.  We were off for a two weeks'
+vacation and our minds were a good deal easier than when we went
+away before, and left Pomona at the helm.  We had enlarged the
+boundaries of Rudder Grange, having purchased the house, with
+enough adjoining land to make quite a respectable farm.  Of course
+I could not attend to the manifold duties on such a place, and my
+wife seldom had a happier thought than when she proposed that we
+should invite Pomona and her husband to come and live with us.
+Pomona was delighted, and Jonas was quite willing to run our farm.
+So arrangements were made, and the young couple were established in
+apartments in our back building, and went to work as if taking care
+of us and our possessions was the ultimate object of their lives.
+Jonas was such a steady fellow that we feared no trouble from tree-
+man or lightning rodder during this absence.
+
+Our destination was a country tavern on the stage-road, not far
+from the point where the road crosses the ridge of the mountain-
+range, and about sixteen miles from the town.  We had heard of this
+tavern from a friend of ours, who had spent a summer there.  The
+surrounding country was lovely, and the house was kept by a farmer,
+who was a good soul, and tried to make his guests happy.  These
+were generally passing farmers and wagoners, or stage-passengers,
+stopping for a meal, but occasionally a person from the cities,
+like our friend, came to spend a few weeks in the mountains.
+
+So hither we came, for an out-of-the-world spot like this was just
+what we wanted.  When I took our places at the stage-office, I
+inquired for David Dutton, the farmer tavern-keeper before
+mentioned, but the agent did not know of him.
+
+"However," said he, "the driver knows everybody on the road, and
+he'll set you down at the house."
+
+So, off we started, having paid for our tickets on the basis that
+we were to ride about sixteen miles.  We had seats on top, and the
+trip, although slow,--for the road wound uphill steadily,--was a
+delightful one.  Our way lay, for the greater part of the time,
+through the woods, but now and then we came to a farm, and a turn
+in the road often gave us lovely views of the foot-hills and the
+valleys behind us.
+
+But the driver did not know where Dutton's tavern was.  This we
+found out after we had started.  Some persons might have thought it
+wiser to settle this matter before starting, but I am not at all
+sure that it would have been so.  We were going to this tavern, and
+did not wish to go anywhere else.  If people did not know where it
+was, it would be well for us to go and look for it.  We knew the
+road that it was on, and the locality in which it was to be found.
+
+Still, it was somewhat strange that a stage-driver, passing along
+the road every week-day,--one day one way, and the next the other
+way,--should not know a public-house like Dutton's.
+
+"If I remember rightly," I said, "the stage used to stop there for
+the passengers to take supper."
+
+"Well, then, it aint on this side o' the ridge," said the driver;
+"we stop for supper, about a quarter of a mile on the other side,
+at Pete Lowry's.  Perhaps Dutton used to keep that place.  Was it
+called the 'Ridge House'?"
+
+I did not remember the name of the house, but I knew very well that
+it was not on the other side of the ridge.
+
+"Then," said the driver, "I'm sure I don't know where it is.  But
+I've only been on the road about a year, and your man may 'a' moved
+away afore I come.  But there aint no tavern this side the ridge,
+arter ye leave Delhi, and, that's nowhere's nigh the ridge."
+
+There were a couple of farmers who were sitting by the driver, and
+who had listened with considerable interest to this conversation.
+Presently, one of them turned around to me and said:
+
+"Is it Dave Dutton ye're askin' about?"
+
+"Yes," I replied, "that's his name."
+
+"Well, I think he's dead," said he.
+
+At this, I began to feel uneasy, and I could see that my wife
+shared my trouble.
+
+Then the other farmer spoke up.
+
+"I don't believe he's dead, Hiram," said he to his companion "I
+heered of him this spring.  He's got a sheep-farm on the other side
+o' the mountain, and he's a livin' there.  That's what I heered, at
+any rate.  But he don't live on this road any more," he continued,
+turning to us.  "He used to keep tavern on this road, and the
+stages did used to stop fur supper--or else dinner, I don't jist
+ree-collect which.  But he don't keep tavern on this road no more."
+
+"Of course not," said his companion, "if he's a livin' over the
+mountain.  But I b'lieve he's dead."
+
+I asked the other farmer if he knew how long it had been since
+Dutton had left this part of the country.
+
+"I don't know fur certain," he said, "but I know he was keeping
+tavern here two year' ago, this fall, fur I came along here,
+myself, and stopped there to git supper--or dinner, I don't jist
+ree-collect which."
+
+It had been three years since our friend had boarded at Dutton's
+house.  There was no doubt that the man was not living at his old
+place now.  My wife and I now agreed that it was very foolish in us
+to come so far without making more particular inquiries.  But we
+had had an idea that a man who had a place like Dutton's tavern
+would live there always.
+
+"What are ye goin' to do?" asked the driver, very much interested,
+for it was not every day that he had passengers who had lost their
+destination.  "Ye might go on to Lowry's.  He takes boarders
+sometimes."
+
+But Lowry's did not attract us.  An ordinary country-tavern, where
+stage-passengers took supper, was not what we came so far to find.
+
+"Do you know where this house o' Dutton's is?" said the driver, to
+the man who had once taken either dinner or supper there.
+
+"Oh yes!  I'd know the house well enough, if I saw it.  It's the
+fust house this side o' Lowry's."
+
+"With a big pole in front of it?" asked the driver.
+
+"Yes, there was a sign-pole in front of it."
+
+"An a long porch?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh! well!" said the driver, settling himself in his seat.  "I know
+all about that house.  That's a empty house.  I didn't think you
+meant that house.  There's nobody lives there.  An' yit, now I come
+to remember, I have seen people about, too.  I tell ye what ye
+better do.  Since ye're so set on staying on this side the ridge,
+ye better let me put ye down at Dan Carson's place.  That's jist
+about quarter of a mile from where Dutton used to live.  Dan's wife
+can tell ye all about the Duttons, an' about everybody else, too,
+in this part o' the country, and if there aint nobody livin' at the
+old tavern, ye can stay all night at Carson's, and I'll stop an'
+take you back, to-morrow, when I come along."
+
+We agreed to this plan, for there was nothing better to be done,
+and, late in the afternoon, we were set down with our small trunk--
+for we were traveling under light weight--at Dan Carson's door.
+The stage was rather behind time, and the driver whipped up and
+left us to settle our own affairs.  He called back, however, that
+he would keep a good lookout for us to-morrow.
+
+Mrs. Carson soon made her appearance, and, very naturally, was
+somewhat surprised to see visitors with their baggage standing on
+her little porch.  She was a plain, coarsely dressed woman, with an
+apron full of chips and kindling wood, and a fine mind for detail,
+as we soon discovered.
+
+"Jist so," said she, putting down the chips, and inviting us to
+seats on a bench.  "Dave Dutton's folks is all moved away.  Dave
+has a good farm on the other side o' the mountain, an' it never did
+pay him to keep that tavern, 'specially as he didn't sell liquor.
+When he went away, his son Al come there to live with his wife, an'
+the old man left a good deal o' furniter and things fur him, but
+Al's wife aint satisfied here, and, though they've been here, off
+an' on, the house is shet up most o' the time.  It's fur sale an'
+to rent, both, ef anybody wants it.  I'm sorry about you, too, fur
+it was a nice tavern, when Dave kept it."
+
+We admitted that we were also very sorry, and the kind-hearted
+woman showed a great deal of sympathy.
+
+"You might stay here, but we haint got no fit room where you two
+could sleep."
+
+At this, Euphemia and I looked very blank.  "But you could go up to
+the house and stay, jist as well as not," Mrs. Carson continued.
+"There's plenty o' things there, an' I keep the key.  For the
+matter o' that, ye might take the house for as long as ye want to
+stay; Dave 'd be glad enough to rent it; and, if the lady knows how
+to keep house, it wouldn't be no trouble at all, jist for you two.
+We could let ye have all the victuals ye'd want, cheap, and there's
+plenty o' wood there, cut, and everything handy."
+
+We looked at each other.  We agreed.  Here was a chance for a rare
+good time.  It might be better, perhaps, than anything we had
+expected.
+
+The bargain was struck.  Mrs. Carson, who seemed vested with all
+the necessary powers of attorney, appeared to be perfectly
+satisfied with our trustworthiness, and when I paid on the spot the
+small sum she thought proper for two weeks' rent, she evidently
+considered she had done a very good thing for Dave Dutton and
+herself.
+
+"I'll jist put some bread, an' eggs, an' coffee, an' pork, an'
+things in a basket, an' I'll have 'em took up fur ye, with yer
+trunk, an' I'll go with ye an' take some milk.  Here, Danny!" she
+cried, and directly her husband, a long, thin, sun-burnt, sandy-
+headed man, appeared, and to him she told, in a few words, our
+story, and ordered him to hitch up the cart and be ready to take
+our trunk and the basket up to Dutton's old house.
+
+When all was ready, we walked up the hill, followed by Danny and
+the cart.  We found the house a large, low, old-fashioned farm-
+house, standing near the road with a long piazza in front, and a
+magnificent view of mountain-tops in the rear.  Within, the lower
+rooms were large and low, with quite a good deal of furniture in
+them.  There was no earthly reason why we should not be perfectly
+jolly and comfortable here.  The more we saw, the more delighted we
+were at the odd experience we were about to have.  Mrs. Carson
+busied herself in getting things in order for our supper and
+general accommodation.  She made Danny carry our trunk to a bedroom
+in the second story, and then set him to work building a fire in a
+great fire-place, with a crane for the kettle.
+
+When she had done all she could, it was nearly dark, and after
+lighting a couple of candles, she left us, to go home and get
+supper for her own family.
+
+As she and Danny were about to depart in the cart, she ran back to
+ask us if we would like to borrow a dog.
+
+"There aint nuthin to be afeard of," she said; "for nobody hardly
+ever takes the trouble to lock the doors in these parts, but bein'
+city folks, I thought ye might feel better if ye had a dog."
+
+We made haste to tell her that we were not city folks, but declined
+the dog.  Indeed, Euphemia remarked that she would be much more
+afraid of a strange dog than of robbers.
+
+After supper, which we enjoyed as much as any meal we ever ate in
+our lives, we each took a candle, and after arranging our bedroom
+for the night, we explored the old house.  There were lots of
+curious things everywhere,--things that were apparently so "old
+timey," as my wife remarked, that David Dutton did not care to take
+them with him to his new farm, and so left them for his son, who
+probably cared for them even less than his father did.  There was a
+garret extending over the whole house, and filled with old
+spinning-wheels, and strings of onions, and all sorts of antiquated
+bric-a-brac, which was so fascinating to me that I could scarcely
+tear myself away from it; but Euphemia, who was dreadfully afraid
+that I would set the whole place on fire, at length prevailed on me
+to come down.
+
+We slept soundly that night, in what was probably the best bedroom
+of the house, and awoke with a feeling that we were about to enter
+on a period of some uncommon kind of jollity, which we found to be
+true when we went down to get breakfast.  I made the fire, Euphemia
+made the coffee, and Mrs. Carson came with cream and some fresh
+eggs.  The good woman was in high spirits.  She was evidently
+pleased at the idea of having neighbors, temporary though they
+were, and it had probably been a long time since she had had such a
+chance of selling milk, eggs and sundries.  It was almost the same
+as opening a country store.  We bought groceries and everything of
+her.
+
+We had a glorious time that day.  We were just starting out for a
+mountain stroll when our stage-driver came along on his down trip.
+
+"Hello!" he called out.  "Want to go back this morning?"
+
+"Not a bit of it," I cried.  "We wont go back for a couple of
+weeks.  We've settled here for the present."
+
+The man smiled.  He didn't seem to understand it exactly, but he
+was evidently glad to see us so well satisfied.  If he had had time
+to stop and have the matter explained to him, he would probably
+have been better satisfied; but as it was, he waved his whip to us
+and drove on.  He was a good fellow.
+
+We strolled all day, having locked up the house and taken our lunch
+with us; and when we came back, it seemed really like coming home.
+Mrs. Carson with whom we had left the key, had brought the milk and
+was making the fire.  This woman was too kind.  We determined to
+try and repay her in some way.  After a splendid supper we went to
+bed happy.
+
+The next day was a repetition of this one, but the day after it
+rained.  So we determined to enjoy the old tavern, and we rummaged
+about everywhere.  I visited the garret again, and we went to the
+old barn, with its mows half full of hay, and had rare times
+climbing about there.  We were delighted that it happened to rain.
+In a wood-shed, near the house, I saw a big square board with
+letters on it.  I examined the board, and found it was a sign,--a
+hanging sign,--and on it was painted in letters that were yet quite
+plain:
+
+
+    "FARMERS'
+       AND
+    MECHANICS'
+      HOTEL."
+
+
+I called to Euphemia and told her that I had found the old tavern
+sign.  She came to look at it, and I pulled it out.
+
+"Soldiers and sailors!" she exclaimed; "that's funny."
+
+I looked over on her side of the sign, and, sure enough, there was
+the inscription:
+
+
+    "SOLDIERS
+       AND
+     SAILORS'
+      HOUSE."
+
+
+"They must have bought this comprehensive sign in some town," I
+said.  "Such a name would never have been chosen for a country
+tavern like this.  But I wish they hadn't taken it down.  The house
+would look more like what it ought to be with its sign hanging
+before it."
+
+"Well, then," said Euphemia, "let's put it up."  I agreed instantly
+to this proposition, and we went to look for a ladder.  We found
+one in the wagon-house, and carried it out to the sign-post in the
+front of the house.  It was raining, gently, during these
+performances, but we had on our old clothes, and were so much
+interested in our work that we did not care for a little rain.  I
+carried the sign to the post, and then, at the imminent risk of
+breaking my neck, I hung it on its appropriate hooks on the
+transverse beam of the sign-post.  Now our tavern was really what
+it pretended to be.  We gazed on the sign with admiration and
+content.
+
+"Do you think we had better keep it up all the time?" I asked of my
+wife.
+
+"Certainly," said she.  "It's a part of the house.  The place isn't
+complete without it."
+
+"But suppose some one should come along and want to be
+entertained?"
+
+"But no one will.  And if people do come, I'll take care of the
+soldiers and sailors, if you will attend to the farmers and
+mechanics."
+
+I consented to this, and we went in-doors to prepare dinner.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+OUR TAVERN.
+
+
+The next day was clear again, and we rambled in the woods until the
+sun was nearly down, and so were late about supper.  We were just
+taking our seats at the table when we heard a footstep on the front
+porch.  Instantly the same thought came into each of our minds.
+
+"I do believe," said Euphemia, "that's somebody who has mistaken
+this for a tavern.  I wonder whether it's a soldier or a farmer or
+a sailor; but you had better go and see."
+
+I went to see, prompted to move quickly by the new-comer pounding
+his cane on the bare floor of the hall.  I found him standing just
+inside of the front door.  He was a small man, with long hair and
+beard, and dressed in a suit of clothes of a remarkable color,--
+something of the hue of faded snuff.  He had a big stick, and
+carried a large flat valise in one hand.
+
+He bowed to me very politely.
+
+"Can I stop here to-night?" he asked, taking off his hat, as my
+wife put her head out of the kitchen-door.
+
+"Why,--no, sir," I said.  "This is not a tavern."
+
+"Not a tavern!" he exclaimed.  "I don't understand that.  You have
+a sign out."
+
+"That is true," I said; "but that is only for fun, so to speak.  We
+are here temporarily, and we put up that sign just to please
+ourselves."
+
+"That is pretty poor fun for me," said the man.  "I am very tired,
+and more hungry than tired.  Couldn't you let me have a little
+supper at any rate?"
+
+Euphemia glanced at me.  I nodded.
+
+"You are welcome to some supper," she said, "Come in!  We eat in
+the kitchen because it is more convenient, and because it is so
+much more cheerful than the dining-room.  There is a pump out
+there, and here is a towel, if you would like to wash your hands."
+
+As the man went out the back door I complimented my wife.  She was
+really an admirable hostess.
+
+The individual in faded snuff-color was certainly hungry, and he
+seemed to enjoy his supper.  During the meal he gave us some
+account of himself.  He was an artist and had traveled, mostly on
+foot it would appear, over a great part of the country.  He had in
+his valise some very pretty little colored sketches of scenes in
+Mexico and California, which he showed us after supper.  Why he
+carried these pictures--which were done on stiff paper--about with
+him I do not know.  He said he did not care to sell them, as he
+might use them for studies for larger pictures some day.  His
+valise, which he opened wide on the table, seemed to be filled with
+papers, drawings, and matters of that kind.  I suppose he preferred
+to wear his clothes, instead of carrying them about in his valise.
+
+After sitting for about half an hour after supper, he rose, with an
+uncertain sort of smile, and said he supposed he must be moving
+on,--asking, at the same time, how far it was to the tavern over
+the ridge.
+
+"Just wait one moment, if you please," said Euphemia.  And she
+beckoned me out of the room.
+
+"Don't you think," said she, "that we could keep him all night?
+There's no moon, and it would be a fearful dark walk, I know, to
+the other side of the mountain.  There is a room upstairs that I
+can fix for him in ten minutes, and I know he's honest."
+
+"How do you know it?" I asked.
+
+"Well, because he wears such curious-colored clothes.  No criminal
+would ever wear such clothes.  He could never pass unnoticed
+anywhere; and being probably the only person in the world who
+dressed that way, he could always be detected."
+
+"You are doubtless correct," I replied.  "Let us keep him."
+
+When we told the good man that he could stay all night, he was
+extremely obliged to us, and went to bed quite early.  After we had
+fastened the house and had gone to our room, my wife said to me,
+
+"Where is your pistol?"
+
+I produced it.
+
+"Well," said she, "I think you ought to have it where you can get
+at it."
+
+"Why so?" I asked.  "You generally want me to keep it out of sight
+and reach."
+
+"Yes; but when there is a strange man in the house we ought to take
+extra precautions."
+
+"But this man you say is honest," I replied.  "If he committed a
+crime he could not escape,--his appearance is so peculiar."
+
+"But that wouldn't do us any good, if we were both murdered," said
+Euphemia, pulling a chair up to my side of the bed, and laying the
+pistol carefully thereon, with the muzzle toward the bed.
+
+We were not murdered, and we had a very pleasant breakfast with the
+artist, who told us more anecdotes of his life in Mexico and other
+places.  When, after breakfast, he shut up his valise, preparatory
+to starting away, we felt really sorry.  When he was ready to go,
+he asked for his bill.
+
+"Oh!  There is no bill," I exclaimed.  "We have no idea of charging
+you anything.  We don't really keep a hotel, as I told you."
+
+"If I had known that," said he, looking very grave, "I would not
+have stayed.  There is no reason why you should give me food and
+lodgings, and I would not, and did not, ask it.  I am able to pay
+for such things, and I wish to do so."
+
+We argued with him for some time, speaking of the habits of country
+people and so on, but he would not be convinced.  He had asked for
+accommodation expecting to pay for it, and would not be content
+until he had done so.
+
+"Well," said Euphemia, "we are not keeping this house for profit,
+and you can't force us to make anything out of you.  If you will be
+satisfied to pay us just what it cost us to entertain you, I
+suppose we shall have to let you do that.  Take a seat for a
+minute, and I will make out your bill."
+
+So the artist and I sat down and talked of various matters, while
+my wife got out her traveling stationery-box, and sat down to the
+dining-table to make out the bill.  After a long, long time, as it
+appeared to me, I said:
+
+"My dear, if the amount of that bill is at all proportioned to the
+length of time it takes to make it out, I think our friend here
+will wish he had never said anything about it."
+
+"It's nearly done," said she, without raising her head, and, in
+about ten or fifteen minutes more, she rose and presented the bill
+to our guest.  As I noticed that he seemed somewhat surprised at
+it, I asked him to let me look over it with him.  The bill, of
+which I have a copy, read as follows:
+
+
+July 12th, 187-
+
+ARTIST,
+
+To the S. and S. Hotel and F. and M. House.
+
+To 1/3 one supper, July 11th, which supper consisted of:
+
+   1/14 lb. coffee, at 35 cts.               2 cts.
+
+     "  "   sugar,  "  14  "                 1  "
+
+    1/6 qt. milk,   "   6  "                 1  "
+
+    1/2 loaf bread  "   6  "                 3  "
+
+    1/8 lb. butter  "  25  "              3 1/8 "
+
+    1/2 "  bacon    "  25  "             12 1/2 "
+
+   1/16 pk. potatoes at 60 cts. per bush  15/16 "
+
+    1/2 pt. hominy at 6 cts                   3 "
+                                         --------
+                                         27 1/16
+
+                               1/3 of total      09 1/48 cts.
+
+To 1/3 one breakfast, July 12th (same as
+above, with exception of eggs instead of
+bacon, and with hominy omitted),
+                                         --------
+                                          24 1/6
+
+                                 1/3 total       08 1/48  "
+
+To rent of one room and furniture, for one
+night, in furnished house of fifteen rooms
+at $6.00 per week for whole house                 05 3/8  "
+                                                ------------
+                               Amount due       22 17/24 cts.
+
+
+The worthy artist burst out laughing when he read this bill, and so
+did I.
+
+"You needn't laugh," said Euphemia, reddening a little.  "That is
+exactly what your entertainment cost, and we do not intend to take
+a cent more.  We get things here in such small quantities that I
+can tell quite easily what a meal costs us, and I have calculated
+that bill very carefully."
+
+"So I should think, madam," said the artist, "but it is not quite
+right.  You have charged nothing for your trouble and services."
+
+"No," said my wife, "for I took no additional trouble to get your
+meals.  What I did, I should have done if you had not come.  To be
+sure I did spend a few minutes preparing your room.  I will charge
+you seven twenty-fourths of a cent for that, thus making your bill
+twenty-three cents--even money."
+
+"I cannot gainsay reasoning like yours, madam," he said, and he
+took a quarter from a very fat old pocket-book, and handed it to
+her.  She gravely gave him two cents change, and then taking the
+bill, receipted it, and handed it back to him.
+
+We were sorry to part with our guest, for he was evidently a good
+fellow.  I walked with him a little way up the road, and got him to
+let me copy his bill in my memorandum-book.  The original, he said,
+he would always keep.
+
+A day or two after the artist's departure, we were standing on the
+front piazza.  We had had a late breakfast--consequent upon a long
+tramp the day before--and had come out to see what sort of a day it
+was likely to be.  We had hardly made up our minds on the subject
+when the morning stage came up at full speed and stopped at our
+gate.
+
+"Hello!" cried the driver.  He was not our driver.  He was a tall
+man in high boots, and had a great reputation as a manager of
+horses--so Danny Carson told me afterward.  There were two drivers
+on the line, and each of them made one trip a day, going up one day
+in the afternoon, and down the next day in the morning.
+
+I went out to see what this driver wanted.
+
+"Can't you give my passengers breakfast?" he asked.
+
+"Why, no!" I exclaimed, looking at the stage loaded inside and out.
+"This isn't a tavern.  We couldn't get breakfast for a stage-load
+of people."
+
+"What have you got a sign up fur, then?" roared the driver, getting
+red in the face.
+
+"That's so," cried two or three men from the top of the stage.  "If
+it aint a tavern, what's that sign doin' there?"
+
+I saw I must do something.  I stepped up close to the stage and
+looked in and up.
+
+"Are there any sailors in this stage?" I said.  There was no
+response.  "Any soldiers?  Any farmers or mechanics?"
+
+At the latter question I trembled, but fortunately no one answered.
+
+"Then," said I, "you have no right to ask to be accommodated; for,
+as you may see from the sign, our house is only for soldiers,
+sailors, farmers, and mechanics."
+
+"And besides," cried Euphemia from the piazza, "we haven't anything
+to give you for breakfast."
+
+The people in and on the stage grumbled a good deal at this, and
+looked as if they were both disappointed and hungry, while the
+driver ripped out an oath, which, had he thrown it across a creek,
+would soon have made a good-sized millpond.
+
+He gathered up his reins and turned a sinister look on me.
+
+"I'll be even with you, yit," he cried as he dashed off.
+
+In the afternoon Mrs. Carson came up and told us that the stage had
+stopped there, and that she had managed to give the passengers some
+coffee, bread and butter and ham and eggs, though they had had to
+wait their turns for cups and plates.  It appeared that the driver
+had quarreled with the Lowry people that morning because the
+breakfast was behindhand and he was kept waiting.  So he told his
+passengers that there was another tavern, a few miles down the
+road, and that he would take them there to breakfast.
+
+"He's an awful ugly man, that he is," said Mrs. Carson, "an' he'd
+better 'a' stayed at Lowry's, fur he had to wait a good sight
+longer, after all, as it turned out.  But he's dreadful mad at you,
+an' says he'll bring ye farmers, an' soldiers, and sailors, an'
+mechanics, if that's what ye want.  I 'spect he'll do his best to
+git a load of them particular people an' drop 'em at yer door.  I'd
+take down that sign, ef I was you.  Not that me an' Danny minds,
+fur we're glad to git a stage to feed, an' ef you've any single man
+that wants lodgin' we've fixed up a room and kin keep him
+overnight."
+
+Notwithstanding this warning, Euphemia and I decided not to take in
+our sign.  We were not to be frightened by a stage-driver.  The
+next day our own driver passed us on the road as he was going down.
+
+"So ye're pertickler about the people ye take in, are ye?" said he,
+smiling.  "That's all right, but ye made Bill awful mad."
+
+It was quite late on a Monday afternoon that Bill stopped at our
+house again.  He did not call out this time.  He simply drew up,
+and a man with a big black valise clambered down from the top of
+the stage.  Then Bill shouted to me as I walked down to the gate,
+looking rather angry I suppose:
+
+"I was agoin' to git ye a whole stage-load, to stay all night, but
+that one'll do ye, I reckon.  Ha, ha!"  And off he went, probably
+fearing that I would throw his passenger up on the top of the stage
+again.
+
+The new-comer entered the gate.  He was a dark man, with black hair
+and black whiskers and mustache, and black eyes.  He wore clothes
+that had been black, but which were now toned down by a good deal
+of dust, and, as I have said, he carried a black valise.
+
+"Why did you stop here?" said I, rather inhospitably.  "Don't you
+know that we do not accommodate--"
+
+"Yes, I know," he said, walking up on the piazza and setting down
+his valise, "that you only take soldiers, sailors, farmers, and
+mechanics at this house.  I have been told all about it, and if I
+had not thoroughly understood the matter I should not have thought
+of such a thing as stopping here.  If you will sit down for a few
+moments I will explain."  Saying this, he took a seat on a bench by
+the door, but Euphemia and I continued to stand.
+
+"I am," he continued, "a soldier, a sailor, a farmer, and a
+mechanic.  Do not doubt my word; I will prove it to you in two
+minutes.  When but seventeen years of age, circumstances compelled
+me to take charge of a farm in New Hampshire, and I kept up that
+farm until I was twenty-five.  During this time I built several
+barns, wagon-houses, and edifices of the sort on my place, and,
+becoming expert in this branch of mechanical art, I was much sought
+after by the neighboring farmers, who employed me to do similar
+work for them.  In time I found this new business so profitable
+that I gave up farming altogether.  But certain unfortunate
+speculations threw me on my back, and finally, having gone from bad
+to worse, I found myself in Boston, where, in sheer desperation, I
+went on board a coasting vessel as landsman.  I remained on this
+vessel for nearly a year, but it did not suit me.  I was often
+sick, and did not like the work.  I left the vessel at one of the
+Southern ports, and it was not long after she sailed that, finding
+myself utterly without means, I enlisted as a soldier.  I remained
+in the army for some years, and was finally honorably discharged.
+So you see that what I said was true.  I belong to each and all of
+these businesses and professions.  And now that I have satisfied
+you on this point, let me show you a book for which I have the
+agency in this country."  He stooped down, opened his valise, and
+took out a good-sized volume.  "This book," said he, "is the 'Flora
+and Fauna of Carthage County;' it is written by one of the first
+scientific men of the country, and gives you a description, with an
+authentic wood-cut, of each of the plants and animals of the
+county--indigenous or naturalized.  Owing to peculiar advantages
+enjoyed by our firm, we are enabled to put this book at the very
+low price of three dollars and seventy-five cents.  It is sold by
+subscription only, and should be on the center-table in every
+parlor in this county.  If you will glance over this book, sir, you
+will find it as interesting as a novel, and as useful as an
+encyclopaedia--"
+
+"I don't want the book," I said, "and I don't care to look at it."
+
+"But if you were to look at it you would want it, I'm sure."
+
+"That's a good reason for not looking at it, then," I answered.
+"If you came to get us to subscribe for that book we need not take
+up any more of your time, for we shall not subscribe."
+
+"Oh, I did not come for that alone," he said.  "I shall stay here
+to-night and start out in the morning to work up the neighborhood.
+If you would like this book--and I'm sure you have only to look at
+it to do that--you can deduct the amount of my bill from the
+subscription price, and--"
+
+"What did you say you charged for this book?" asked Euphemia,
+stepping forward and picking up the volume.
+
+"Three seventy-five is the subscription price, ma'am, but that book
+is not for sale.  That is merely a sample.  If you put your name
+down on my list you will be served with your book in two weeks.  As
+I told your husband, it will come very cheap to you, because you
+can deduct what you charge me for supper, lodging, and breakfast."
+
+"Indeed!" said my wife, and then she remarked that she must go in
+the house and get supper.
+
+"When will supper be ready?" the man asked, as she passed him.
+
+At first she did not answer him, but then she called back:
+
+"In about half an hour."
+
+"Good," said the man; "but I wish it was ready now.  And now, sir,
+if you would just glance over this book, while we are waiting for
+supper--"
+
+I cut him very short and went out into the road.  I walked up and
+down in front of the house, in a bad humor.  I could not bear to
+think of my wife getting supper for this fellow, who was striding
+about on the piazza, as if he was very hungry and very impatient.
+Just as I returned to the house, the bell rang from within.
+
+"Joyful sound!" said the man, and in he marched.  I followed close
+behind him.  On one end of the table, in the kitchen, supper was
+set for one person, and, as the man entered, Euphemia motioned him
+to the table.  The supper looked like a remarkably good one.  A cup
+of coffee smoked by the side of the plate; there was ham and eggs
+and a small omelette; there were fried potatoes, some fresh
+radishes, a plate of hot biscuit, and some preserves.  The man's
+eyes sparkled.
+
+"I am sorry," said he, "that I am to eat alone, for I hoped to have
+your good company; but, if this plan suits you, it suits me," and
+he drew up a chair.
+
+"Stop!" said Euphemia, advancing between him and the table.  "You
+are not to eat that.  This is a sample supper.  If you order a
+supper like it, one will be served to you in two weeks."
+
+At this I burst into a roar of laughter; my wife stood pale and
+determined, and the man drew back, looking first at one of us, and
+then at the other.
+
+"Am I to understand--?" he said.
+
+"Yes," I interrupted, "you are.  There is nothing more to be said
+on this subject.  You may go now.  You came here to annoy us,
+knowing that we did not entertain travelers, and now you see what
+you have made by it," and I opened the door.
+
+The man evidently thought that a reply was not necessary, and he
+walked out without a word.  Taking up his valise, which he had put
+in the hall, he asked if there was any public-house near by.
+
+"No," I said; "but there is a farm-house a short distance down the
+road, where they will be glad to have you."  And down the road he
+went to Mrs. Carson's.  I am sorry to say that he sold her a "Flora
+and Fauna" before he went to bed that night.
+
+We were much amused at the termination of this affair, and I
+became, if possible, a still greater admirer of Euphemia's talents
+for management.  But we both agreed that it would not do to keep up
+the sign any longer.  We could not tell when the irate driver might
+not pounce down upon us with a customer.
+
+"But I hate to take it down," said Euphemia; "it looks so much like
+a surrender."
+
+"Do not trouble yourself," said I.  "I have an idea."
+
+The next morning I went down to Danny Carson's little shop,--he was
+a wheelwright as well as a farmer,--and I got from him two pots of
+paint--one black and one white--and some brushes.  I took down our
+sign, and painted out the old lettering, and, instead of it, I
+painted, in bold and somewhat regular characters, new names for our
+tavern.
+
+On one side of the sign I painted:
+
+
+     "SOAP-MAKER'S
+         AND
+     BOOK-BINDER'S
+        HOTEL."
+
+
+And on the other side:
+
+
+     "UPHOLSTERERS'
+          AND
+       DENTISTS'
+        HOUSE."
+
+
+"Now then," I said, "I don't believe any of those people will be
+traveling along the road while we are here, or, at any rate, they
+won't want to stop."
+
+We admired this sign very much, and sat on the piazza, that
+afternoon, to see how it would strike Bill, as he passed by.  It
+seemed to strike him pretty hard, for he gazed with all his eyes at
+one side of it, as he approached, and then, as he passed it, he
+actually pulled up to read the other side.
+
+"All right!" he called out, as he drove off.  "All right!  All
+right!"
+
+Euphemia didn't like the way he said "all right."  It seemed to
+her, she said, as if he intended to do something which would be all
+right for him, but not at all so for us.  I saw she was nervous
+about it, for that evening she began to ask me questions about the
+traveling propensities of soap-makers, upholsterers, and dentists.
+
+"Do not think anything more about that, my dear," I said.  "I will
+take the sign down in the morning.  We are here to enjoy ourselves,
+and not to be worried."
+
+"And yet," said she, "it would worry me to think that that driver
+frightened us into taking down the sign.  I tell you what I wish
+you would do.  Paint out those names, and let me make a sign.  Then
+I promise you I will not be worried."
+
+The next day, therefore, I took down the sign and painted out my
+inscriptions.  It was a good deal of trouble, for my letters were
+fresh, but it was a rainy day, and I had plenty of time, and
+succeeded tolerably well.  Then I gave Euphemia the black-paint pot
+and the freedom of the sign.
+
+I went down to the creek to try a little fishing in wet weather,
+and when I returned the new sign was done.  On one side it read:
+
+
+     FLIES'
+      AND
+     WASPS'
+     HOTEL.
+
+
+On the other:
+
+
+  HUNDRED-LEGGERS'
+       AND
+     RED-ANTS'
+      HOUSE.
+
+
+"You see," said euphemia, "if any individuals mentioned thereon
+apply for accommodation, we can say we are full."
+
+This sign hung triumphantly for several days, when one morning,
+just as we had finished breakfast, we were surprised to hear the
+stage stop at the door, and before we could go out to see who had
+arrived, into the room came our own stage-driver, as we used to
+call him.  He had actually left his team to come and see us.
+
+"I just thought I'd stop an' tell ye," said he, "that ef ye don't
+look out, Bill'll get ye inter trouble.  He's bound to git the best
+o' ye, an' I heared this mornin', at Lowry's, that he's agoin' to
+bring the county clerk up here to-morrow, to see about yer license
+fur keepin' a hotel.  He says ye keep changin' yer signs, but that
+don't differ to him, for he kin prove ye've kept travelers
+overnight, an' ef ye haven't got no license he'll make the county
+clerk come down on ye heavy, I'm sure o' that, fur I know Bill.
+An' so, I thought I'd stop an' tell ye."
+
+I thanked him, and admitted that this was a rather serious view of
+the case.  Euphemia pondered a moment.  Then said she:
+
+"I don't see why we should stay here any longer.  It's going to
+rain again, and our vacation is up to-morrow, anyway.  Could you
+wait a little while, while we pack up?" she said to the driver.
+
+"Oh yes!" he replied.  "I kin wait, as well as not.  I've only got
+one passenger, an' he's on top, a-holdin' the horses.  He aint in
+any hurry, I know, an' I'm ahead o' time."
+
+In less than twenty minutes we had packed our trunk, locked up the
+house, and were in the stage, and, as we drove away, we cast a last
+admiring look at Euphemia's sign, slowly swinging in the wind.  I
+would much like to know if it is swinging there yet.  I feel
+certain there has been no lack of custom.
+
+We stopped at Mrs. Carson's, paid her what we owed her, and engaged
+her to go up to the tavern and put things in order.  She was very
+sorry we were going, but hoped we would come back again some other
+summer.  We said that it was quite possible that we might do so;
+but that, next time, we did not think we would try to have a tavern
+of our own.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+THE BABY AT RUDDER GRANGE.
+
+
+For some reason, not altogether understood by me, there seemed to
+be a continued series of new developments at our home.  I had
+supposed, when the events spoken of in the last chapter had settled
+down to their proper places in our little history, that our life
+would flow on in an even, commonplace way, with few or no incidents
+worthy of being recorded.  But this did not prove to be the case.
+After a time, the uniformity and quiet of our existence was
+considerably disturbed.
+
+This disturbance was caused by a baby, not a rude, imperious baby,
+but a child who was generally of a quiet and orderly turn of mind.
+But it disarranged all our plans; all our habits; all the ordinary
+disposition of things.
+
+It was in the summer-time, during my vacation, that it began to
+exert its full influence upon us.  A more unfortunate season could
+not have been selected.  At first, I may say that it did not exert
+its full influence upon me.  I was away, during the day, and, in
+the evening, its influence was not exerted, to any great extent,
+upon anybody.  As I have said, its habits were exceedingly orderly.
+But, during my vacation, the things came to pass which have made
+this chapter necessary.
+
+I did not intend taking a trip.  As in a former vacation, I
+proposed staying at home and enjoying those delights of the country
+which my business in town did not allow me to enjoy in the working
+weeks and months of the year.  I had no intention of camping out,
+or of doing anything of that kind, but many were the trips, rides,
+and excursions I had planned.
+
+I found, however, that if I enjoyed myself in this wise, I must do
+it, for the most part, alone.  It was not that Euphemia could not
+go with me--there was really nothing to prevent--it was simply that
+she had lost, for the time, her interest in everything except that
+baby.
+
+She wanted me to be happy, to amuse myself, to take exercise, to do
+whatever I thought was pleasant, but she, herself, was so much
+engrossed with the child, that she was often ignorant of what I
+intended to do, or had done.  She thought she was listening to what
+I said to her, but, in reality, she was occupied, mind and body,
+with the baby, or listening for some sound which should indicate
+that she ought to go and be occupied with it.
+
+I would often say to her: "Why can't you let Pomona attend to it?
+You surely need not give up your whole time and your whole mind to
+the child."
+
+But she would always answer that Pomona had a great many things to
+do, and that she couldn't, at all times, attend to the baby.
+Suppose, for instance, that she should be at the barn.
+
+I once suggested that a nurse should be procured, but at this she
+laughed.
+
+"There is very little to do," she said, "and I really like to do
+it."
+
+"Yes," said I, "but you spend so much of your time in thinking how
+glad you will be to do that little, when it is to be done, that you
+can't give me any attention, at all."
+
+"Now you have no cause to say that," she exclaimed.  "You know very
+well--, there!" and away she ran.  It had just begun to cry!
+
+Naturally, I was getting tired of this.  I could never begin a
+sentence and feel sure that I would be allowed to finish it.
+Nothing was important enough to delay attention to an infantile
+whimper.
+
+Jonas, too, was in a state of unrest.  He was obliged to wear his
+good clothes, a great part of the time, for he was continually
+going on errands to the village, and these errands were so
+important that they took precedence of everything else.  It gave me
+a melancholy sort of pleasure, sometimes, to do Jonas's work when
+he was thus sent away.
+
+I asked him, one day, how he liked it all?
+
+"Well," said he, reflectively, "I can't say as I understand it,
+exactly.  It does seem queer to me that such a little thing should
+take up pretty nigh all the time of three people.  I suppose, after
+a while," this he said with a grave smile, "that you may be wanting
+to turn in and help."  I did not make any answer to this, for Jonas
+was, at that moment, summoned to the house, but it gave me an idea.
+In fact, it gave me two ideas.
+
+The first was that Jonas's remark was not entirely respectful.  He
+was my hired man, but he was a very respectable man, and an
+American man, and therefore might sometimes be expected to say
+things which a foreigner, not known to be respectable, would not
+think of saying, if he wished to keep his place.  The fact that
+Jonas had always been very careful to treat me with much civility,
+caused this remark to make more impression on me.  I felt that he
+had, in a measure, reason for it.
+
+The other idea was one which grew and developed in my mind until I
+afterward formed a plan upon it.  I determined, however, before I
+carried out my plan, to again try to reason with Euphemia.
+
+"If it was our own baby," I said, "or even the child of one of us,
+by a former marriage, it would be a different thing; but to give
+yourself up so entirely to Pomona's baby, seems, to me,
+unreasonable.  Indeed, I never heard of any case exactly like it.
+It is reversing all the usages of society for the mistress to take
+care of the servant's baby."
+
+"The usages of society are not worth much, sometimes," said
+Euphemia, "and you must remember that Pomona is a very different
+kind of a person from an ordinary servant.  She is much more like a
+member of the family--I can't exactly explain what kind of a
+member, but I understand it myself.  She has very much improved
+since she has been married, and you know, yourself, how quiet and--
+and, nice she is, and as for the baby, it's just as good and pretty
+as any baby, and it may grow up to be better than any of us.  Some
+of our presidents have sprung from lowly parents."
+
+"But this one is a girl," I said.
+
+"Well then," replied Euphemia, "she may be a president's wife."
+
+"Another thing," I remarked, "I don't believe Jonas and Pomona like
+your keeping their baby so much to yourself."
+
+"Nonsense!" said Euphemia, "a girl in Pomona's position couldn't
+help being glad to have a lady take an interest in her baby, and
+help bring it up.  And as for Jonas, he would be a cruel man if he
+wasn't pleased and grateful to have his wife relieved of so much
+trouble.  Pomona! is that you?  You can bring it here, now, if you
+want to get at your clear-starching."
+
+I don't believe that Pomona hankered after clear-starching, but she
+brought the baby and I went away.  I could not see any hope ahead.
+Of course, in time, it would grow up, but then it couldn't grow up
+during my vacation.
+
+Then it was that I determined to carry out my plan.
+
+I went to the stable and harnessed the horse to the little
+carriage.  Jonas was not there, and I had fallen out of the habit
+of calling him.  I drove slowly through the yard and out of the
+gate.  No one called to me or asked where I was going.  How
+different this was from the old times!  Then, some one would not
+have failed to know where I was going, and, in all probability, she
+would have gone with me.  But now I drove away, quietly and
+undisturbed.
+
+About three miles from our house was a settlement known as New
+Dublin.  It was a cluster of poor and doleful houses, inhabited
+entirely by Irish people, whose dirt and poverty seemed to make
+them very contented and happy.  The men were generally away, at
+their work, during the day, but there was never any difficulty in
+finding some one at home, no matter at what house one called.  I
+was acquainted with one of the matrons of this locality, a Mrs.
+Duffy, who had occasionally undertaken some odd jobs at our house,
+and to her I made a visit.
+
+She was glad to see me, and wiped off a chair for me.
+
+"Mrs. Duffy," said I, "I want to rent a baby."
+
+At first, the good woman could not understand me, but when I made
+plain to her that I wished for a short time, to obtain the
+exclusive use and control of a baby, for which I was willing to pay
+a liberal rental, she burst into long and violent laughter.  It
+seemed to her like a person coming into the country to purchase
+weeds.  Weeds and children were so abundant in New Dublin.  But she
+gradually began to see that I was in earnest, and as she knew I was
+a trusty person, and somewhat noted for the care I took of my live
+stock, she was perfectly willing to accommodate me, but feared she
+had nothing on hand of the age I desired.
+
+"Me childther are all agoin' about," she said.  "Ye kin see a poile
+uv 'em out yon, in the road, an' there's more uv 'em on the fince.
+But ye nade have no fear about gittin' wan.  There's sthacks of 'em
+in the place.  I'll jist run over to Mrs. Hogan's, wid ye.  She's
+got sixteen or siventeen, mostly small, for Hogan brought four or
+five wid him when he married her, an' she'll be glad to rint wan uv
+'em."  So, throwing her apron over her head, she accompanied me to
+Mrs. Hogan's.
+
+That lady was washing, but she cheerfully stopped her work while
+Mrs. Duffy took her to one side and explained my errand.  Mrs.
+Hogan did not appear to be able to understand why I wanted a baby-
+especially for so limited a period,--but probably concluded that if
+I would take good care of it and would pay well for it, the matter
+was my own affair, for she soon came and said, that if I wanted a
+baby, I'd come to the right place.  Then she began to consider what
+one she would let me have.  I insisted on a young one--there was
+already a little baby at our house, and the folks there would know
+how to manage it.
+
+"Oh, ye want it fer coompany for the ither one, is that it?" said
+Mrs. Hogan, a new light breaking in upon her.  "An' that's a good
+plan, sure.  It must be dridful lownly in a house wid ownly wan
+baby.  Now there's one--Polly--would she do?"
+
+"Why, she can run," I said.  "I don't want one that can run."
+
+"Oh, dear!" said Mrs. Hogan, with a sigh, "they all begin to run,
+very airly.  Now Polly isn't owld, at all, at all."
+
+"I can see that," said I, "but I want one that you can put in a
+cradle--one that will have to stay there, when you put it in."
+
+It was plain that Mrs. Hogan's present stock did not contain
+exactly what I wanted, and directly Mrs. Duffy exclaimed!  "There's
+Mary McCann--an' roight across the way!"
+
+Mrs. Hogan said "Yis, sure," and we all went over to a little
+house, opposite.
+
+"Now, thin," said Mrs. Duffy, entering the house, and proudly
+drawing a small coverlid from a little box-bed in a corner, "what
+do you think of that?"
+
+"Why, there are two of them," I exclaimed.
+
+"To be sure," said Mrs. Duffy.  "They're tweens.  There's always
+two uv em, when they're tweens.  An' they're young enough."
+
+"Yes," said I, doubtfully, "but I couldn't take both.  Do you think
+their mother would rent one of them?"
+
+The women shook their heads.  "Ye see, sir," said Mrs. Hogan, "Mary
+McCann isn't here, bein' gone out to a wash, but she ownly has four
+or foive childther, an' she aint much used to 'em yit, an' I kin
+spake fer her that she'd niver siparate a pair o' tweens.  When she
+gits a dozen hersilf, and marries a widow jintleman wid a lot uv
+his own, she'll be glad enough to be lettin' ye have yer pick, to
+take wan uv 'em fer coompany to yer own baby, at foive dollars a
+week.  Moind that."
+
+I visited several houses after this, still in company with Mrs.
+Hogan and Mrs. Duffy, and finally secured a youngish infant, who,
+having been left motherless, had become what Mrs. Duffy called a
+"bottle-baby," and was in charge of a neighboring aunt.  It seemed
+strange that this child, so eminently adapted to purposes of
+rental, was not offered to me, at first, but I suppose the Irish
+ladies, who had the matter in charge, wanted to benefit themselves,
+or some of their near friends, before giving the general public of
+New Dublin a chance.
+
+The child suited me very well, and I agreed to take it for as many
+days as I might happen to want it, but to pay by the week, in
+advance.  It was a boy, with a suggestion of orange-red bloom all
+over its head, and what looked, to me, like freckles on its cheeks;
+while its little nose turned up, even more than those of babies
+generally turn--above a very long upper lip.  His eyes were blue
+and twinkling, and he had the very mouth "fer a leetle poipe," as
+Mrs. Hogan admiringly remarked.
+
+He was hastily prepared for his trip, and when I had arranged the
+necessary business matters with his aunt, and had assured her that
+she could come to see him whenever she liked, I got into the
+carriage, and having spread the lap-robe over my knees, the baby,
+carefully wrapped in a little shawl, was laid in my lap.  Then his
+bottle, freshly filled, for he might need a drink on the way, was
+tucked between the cushions on the seat beside me, and taking the
+lines in my left hand, while I steadied my charge with the other, I
+prepared to drive away.
+
+"What's his name?" I asked.
+
+"It's Pat," said his aunt, "afther his dad, who's away in the
+moines."
+
+"But ye kin call him onything ye bike," Mrs. Duffy remarked, "fer
+he don't ansther to his name yit."
+
+"Pat will do very well," I said, as I bade the good women farewell,
+and carefully guided the horse through the swarms of youngsters who
+had gathered around the carriage.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+THE OTHER BABY AT RUDDER GRANGE.
+
+
+I drove slowly home, and little Pat lay very quiet, looking up
+steadily at me with his twinkling blue eyes.  For a time,
+everything went very well, but happening to look up, I saw in the
+distance a carriage approaching.  It was an open barouche, and I
+knew it belonged to a family of our acquaintance, in the village,
+and that it usually contained ladies.
+
+Quick as thought, I rolled up Pat in his shawl and stuffed him
+under the seat.  Then rearranging the lap-robe over my knees, I
+drove on, trembling a little, it is true.
+
+As I supposed, the carriage contained ladies, and I knew them all.
+The coachman instinctively drew up, as we approached.  We always
+stopped and spoke, on such occasions.
+
+They asked me after my wife, apparently surprised to see me alone,
+and made a number of pleasant observations, to all of which I
+replied with as unconcerned and easy an air as I could assume.  The
+ladies were in excellent spirits, but in spite of this, there
+seemed to be an air of repression about them, which I thought of
+when I drove on, but could not account for, for little Pat never
+moved or whimpered, during the whole of the interview.
+
+But when I took him again in my lap, and happened to turn, as I
+arranged the robe, I saw his bottle sticking up boldly by my side
+from between the cushions.  Then I did not wonder at the
+repression.
+
+When I reached home, I drove directly to the barn.  Fortunately,
+Jonas was there.  When I called him and handed little Pat to him I
+never saw a man more utterly amazed.  He stood, and held the child
+without a word.  But when I explained the whole affair to him, he
+comprehended it perfectly, and was delighted.  I think he was just
+as anxious for my plan to work as I was myself, although he did not
+say so.
+
+I was about to take the child into the house, when Jonas remarked
+that it was barefooted.
+
+"That won't do," I said.  "It certainly had socks on, when I got
+it.  I saw them."
+
+"Here they are," said Jonas, fishing them out from the shawl, "he's
+kicked them off."
+
+"Well, we must put them on," I said, "it won't do to take him in,
+that way.  You hold him."
+
+So Jonas sat down on the feed-box, and carefully taking little Pat,
+he held him horizontally, firmly pressed between his hands and
+knees, with his feet stuck out toward me, while I knelt down before
+him and tried to put on the little socks.  But the socks were knit
+or worked very loosely, and there seemed to be a good many small
+holes in them, so that Pat's funny little toes, which he kept
+curling up and uncurling, were continually making their appearance
+in unexpected places through the sock.  But, after a great deal of
+trouble, I got them both on, with the heels in about the right
+places.
+
+"Now they ought to be tied on," I said, "Where are his garters?"
+
+"I don't believe babies have garters," said Jonas, doubtfully, "but
+I could rig him up a pair."
+
+"No," said I; "we wont take the time for that.  I'll hold his legs
+apart, as I carry him in.  It's rubbing his feet together that gets
+them off."
+
+As I passed the kitchen window, I saw Pomona at work.  She looked
+at me, dropped something, and I heard a crash.  I don't know how
+much that crash cost me.  Jonas rushed in to tell Pomona about it,
+and in a moment I heard a scream of laughter.  At this, Euphemia
+appeared at an upper window, with her hand raised and saying,
+severely: "Hush-h!"  But the moment she saw me, she disappeared
+from the window and came down-stairs on the run.  She met me, just
+as I entered the dining-room.
+
+"What IN the world!" she breathlessly exclaimed.
+
+"This," said I, taking Pat into a better position in my arms, "is
+my baby."
+
+"Your--baby!" said Euphemia.  "Where did you get it? what are you
+going to do with it?"
+
+"I got it in New Dublin," I replied, "and I want it to amuse and
+occupy me while I am at home.  I haven't anything else to do,
+except things that take me away from you."
+
+"Oh!" said Euphemia.
+
+At this moment, little Pat gave his first whimper.  Perhaps he felt
+the searching glance that fell upon him from the lady in the middle
+of the room.
+
+I immediately began to walk up and down the floor with him, and to
+sing to him.  I did not know any infant music, but I felt sure that
+a soothing tune was the great requisite, and that the words were of
+small importance.  So I started on an old Methodist tune, which I
+remembered very well, and which was used with the hymn containing
+the lines:
+
+
+     "Weak and wounded, sick and sore,"
+
+
+and I sang, as soothingly as I could:
+
+
+    "Lit-tle Pat-sy, Wat-sy, Sat-sy,
+     Does he feel a lit-ty bad?
+     Me will send and get his bot-tle
+     He sha'n't have to cry-wy-wy."
+
+
+"What an idiot!" said Euphemia, laughing in spite of her vexation.
+
+
+    "No, we aint no id-i-otses
+     What we want's a bot-ty mik."
+
+
+So I sang as I walked to the kitchen door, and sent Jonas to the
+barn for the bottle.
+
+Pomona was in spasms of laughter in the kitchen, and Euphemia was
+trying her best not to laugh at all.
+
+"Who's going to take care of it, I'd like to know?" she said, as
+soon as she could get herself into a state of severe inquiry.
+
+
+    "Some-times me, and some-times Jonas,"
+
+
+I sang, still walking up and down the room with a long, slow step,
+swinging the baby from side to side, very much as if it were grass-
+seed in a sieve, and I were sowing it over the carpet.
+
+When the bottle came, I took it, and began to feed little Pat.
+Perhaps the presence of a critical and interested audience
+embarrassed us, for Jonas and Pomona were at the door, with
+streaming eyes, while Euphemia stood with her handkerchief to the
+lower part of her face, or it may have been that I did not
+understand the management of bottles, but, at any rate, I could not
+make the thing work, and the disappointed little Pat began to cry,
+just as the whole of our audience burst into a wild roar of
+laughter.
+
+"Here!  Give me that child!" cried Euphemia, forcibly taking Pat
+and the bottle from me.  "You'll make it swallow the whole affair,
+and I'm sure its mouth's big enough."
+
+"You really don't think," she said, when we were alone, and little
+Pat, with his upturned blue eyes serenely surveying the features of
+the good lady who knew how to feed him, was placidly pulling away
+at his india-rubber tube, "that I will consent to your keeping such
+a creature as this in the house?  Why, he's a regular little Paddy!
+If you kept him he'd grow up into a hod-carrier."
+
+"Good!" said I.  "I never thought of that.  What a novel thing it
+would be to witness the gradual growth of a hod-carrier!  I'll make
+him a little hod, now, to begin with.  He couldn't have a more
+suitable toy."
+
+"I was talking in earnest," she said.  "Take your baby, and please
+carry him home as quick as you can, for I am certainly not going to
+take care of him."
+
+"Of course not," said I.  "Now that I see how it's done, I'm going
+to do it myself.  Jonas will mix his feed and I will give it to
+him.  He looks sleepy now.  Shall I take him upstairs and lay him
+on our bed?"
+
+"No, indeed," cried Euphemia.  "You can put him on a quilt on the
+floor, until after luncheon, and then you must take him home."
+
+I laid the young Milesian on the folded quilt which Euphemia
+prepared for him, where he turned up his little pug nose to the
+ceiling and went contentedly to sleep.
+
+That afternoon I nailed four legs on a small packing-box and made a
+bedstead for him.  This, with a pillow in the bottom of it, was
+very comfortable, and instead of taking him home, I borrowed, in
+the evening, some baby night-clothes from Pomona, and set about
+preparing Pat for the night.
+
+This Euphemia would not allow, but silently taking him from me, she
+put him to bed.
+
+"To-morrow," she said, "you must positively take him away.  I wont
+stand it.  And in our room, too."
+
+"I didn't talk in that way about the baby you adopted," I said.
+
+To this she made no answer, but went away to attend, as usual, to
+Pomona's baby, while its mother washed the dishes.
+
+That night little Pat woke up, several times, and made things
+unpleasant by his wails.  On the first two occasions, I got up and
+walked him about, singing impromptu lines to the tune of "weak and
+wounded," but the third time, Euphemia herself arose, and declaring
+that that doleful tune was a great deal worse than the baby's
+crying, silenced him herself, and arranging his couch more
+comfortably, he troubled us no more.
+
+In the morning, when I beheld the little pad of orange fur in the
+box, my heart almost misgave me, but as the day wore on, my courage
+rose again, and I gave myself up, almost entirely, to my new
+charge, composing a vast deal of blank verse, while walking him up
+and down the house.
+
+Euphemia scolded and scolded, and said she would put on her hat and
+go for the mother.  But I told her the mother was dead, and that
+seemed to be an obstacle.  She took a good deal of care of the
+child, for she said she would not see an innocent creature
+neglected, even if it was an incipient hod-carrier, but she did not
+relax in the least in her attention to Pomona's baby.
+
+The next day was about the same, in regard to infantile incident,
+but, on the day after, I began to tire of my new charge, and Pat,
+on his side, seemed to be tired of me, for he turned from me when I
+went to take him up, while he would hold out his hands to Euphemia,
+and grin delightedly when she took him.
+
+That morning I drove to the village and spent an hour or two there.
+On my return I found Euphemia sitting in our room, with little Pat
+on her lap.  I was astonished at the change in the young rascal.
+He was dressed, from head to foot, in a suit of clothes belonging
+to Pomona's baby; the glowing fuzz on his head was brushed and made
+as smooth as possible, while his little muslin sleeves were tied up
+with blue ribbon.
+
+I stood speechless at the sight.
+
+"Don't he look nice?" said Euphemia, standing him up on her knees.
+"It shows what good clothes will do.  I'm glad I helped Pomona make
+up so many.  He's getting ever so fond of me, ze itty Patsy, watsy!
+See how strong he is!  He can almost stand on his legs!  Look how
+he laughs!  He's just as cunning as he can be.  And oh! I was going
+to speak about that box.  I wouldn't have him sleep in that old
+packing-box.  There are little wicker cradles at the store--I saw
+them last week--they don't cost much, and you could bring one up in
+the carriage.  There's the other baby, crying, and I don't know
+where Pomona is.  Just you mind him a minute, please!" and out she
+ran.
+
+I looked out of the window.  The horse still stood harnessed to the
+carriage, as I had left him.  I saw Pat's old shawl lying in a
+corner.  I seized it, and rolling him in it, new clothes and all, I
+hurried down-stairs, climbed into the carriage, hastily disposed
+Pat in my lap, and turned the horse.  The demeanor of the youngster
+was very different from what it was when I first took him in my lap
+to drive away with him.  There was no confiding twinkle in his eye,
+no contented munching of his little fists.  He gazed up at me with
+wild alarm, and as I drove out of the gate, he burst forth into
+such a yell that Lord Edward came bounding around the house to see
+what was the matter.  Euphemia suddenly appeared at an upper window
+and called out to me, but I did not hear what she said.  I whipped
+up the horse and we sped along to New Dublin.  Pat soon stopped
+crying, but he looked at me with a tear-stained and reproachful
+visage.
+
+The good women of the settlement were surprised to see little Pat
+return so soon.
+
+"An' wasn't he good?" said Mrs. Hogan as she took him from my
+hands.
+
+"Oh, yes!" I said.  "He was as good as he could be.  But I have no
+further need of him."
+
+I might have been called upon to explain this statement, had not
+the whole party of women, who stood around burst into wild
+expressions of delight at Pat's beautiful clothes.
+
+"Oh! jist look at 'em!" cried Mrs. Duffy.  "An' see thim leetle
+pittycoots, thrimmed wid lace!  Oh, an' it was good in ye, sir, to
+give him all thim, an' pay the foive dollars, too."
+
+"An' I'm glad he's back," said the fostering aunt, "for I was a
+coomin' over to till ye that I've been hearin' from owle Pat, his
+dad, an' he's a coomin' back from the moines, and I don't know what
+he'd a' said if he'd found his leetle Pat was rinted.  But if ye
+iver want to borry him, for a whoile, after owle Pat's gone back,
+ye kin have him, rint-free; an' it's much obloiged I am to ye, sir,
+fur dressin' him so foine."
+
+I made no encouraging remarks as to future transactions in this
+line, and drove slowly home.
+
+Euphemia met me at the door.  She had Pomona's baby in her arms.
+We walked together into the parlor.
+
+"And so you have given up the little fellow that you were going to
+do so much for?" she said.
+
+"Yes, I have given him up," I answered.
+
+"It must have been a dreadful trial to you," she continued.
+
+"Oh, dreadful!" I replied.
+
+"I suppose you thought he would take up so much of your time and
+thoughts, that we couldn't be to each other what we used to be,
+didn't you?" she said.
+
+"Not exactly," I replied.  "I only thought that things promised to
+be twice as bad as they were before."
+
+She made no answer to this, but going to the back door of the
+parlor she opened it and called Pomona.  When that young woman
+appeared, Euphemia stepped toward her and said: "Here, Pomona, take
+your baby."
+
+They were simple words, but they were spoken in such a way that
+they meant a good deal.  Pomona knew what they meant.  Her eyes
+sparkled, and as she went out, I saw her hug her child to her
+breast, and cover it with kisses, and then, through the window, I
+could see her running to the barn and Jonas.
+
+"Now, then," said Euphemia, closing the door and coming toward me,
+with one of her old smiles, and not a trace of preoccupation about
+her, "I suppose you expect me to devote myself to you."
+
+I did expect it, and I was not mistaken.
+
+
+Since these events, a third baby has come to Rudder Grange.  It is
+not Pomona's, nor was it brought from New Dublin.  It is named
+after a little one, who died very young, before this story was
+begun, and the strangest thing about it is that never, for a
+moment, does it seem to come between Euphemia and myself.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of The Project Gutenberg Etext Rudder Grange, by Frank R. Stockton
+
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