foolish is wrong." "Anything cruel is wrong," Lizzie said, stubbornly. "Well, you was crazy to think of havin' him visit you. But it don't follow, 'cause he can't be visitin' you, that you got to go _marry_ him." "I got to do something," Lizzie said, desperately; "I'd never have a minute's peace if he had to go to the Farm." "He'd be more comfortable there." "His stomach might be," Lizzie admitted. "Well, then!" Mrs. Butterfield declared, triumphantly. "Now you just let him go, Lizzie. You just be sensible." "I'm goin' to marry him. I'm goin' to take him round to Rev. Niles day after to-morrow; he said he'd marry us." Mrs. Butterfield gasped. "Well, if Rev. Niles does that!--There! You know he was a 'Piscopal; they'll do anything. What did he say when you told him?" "Oh, nothin' much; I asked him about him visitin' me, an' he said it wa'n't just customary. Said it was better to get married. Said we must avoid the appearance of evil." "Well, I ain't sayin' he ain't right; but--" Then, in despair, she turned to ridicule: "Folks'll say you're marryin' him 'cause you expect he'll make money on his ghost-machine!" "Well, you tell 'em I don't believe in ghosts. That'll settle _that_." "If folks knew you didn't believe in any hereafter, they'd say you was a wicked woman!" cried Mrs. Butterfield, angrily;--"an' that fool machine--" "I never said I didn't believe in a hereafter. Course his machine ain't sense. That's what makes it so pitiful." "He'll never finish it." "Course he won't. That's why I'm takin' him." "Well, my _sakes!_" said Mrs. Butterfield, helplessly. And then, angrily again, "Course if you set out to go your own way, I suppose you don't expect no help from them as thinks you are all wrong?"