mite of a spiritualist, and I don't believe in ghosts; but I believe in bein' kind." "I believe in keepin' a good name," Mrs. Butterfield said, dryly. They went on down the windy pasture slope in silence; the mullein candles blossomed shoulder-high, and from underfoot came the warm, aromatic scent of sweet-fern. Once they stopped for some more blueberries, with a desultory word about the heat; then they picked their way around juniper-bushes, and over great knees of granite, hot and slippery, and through low, sweet thickets of bay. At the foot of the hill the shadows were stretching across the road, and the wind was flagging. "My, ain't the shade good?" Lizzie said, when they stopped under her great elm; "I couldn't bear to live where there wa'n't trees." "There's always shade on one side or another of the Poor Farm, anyway," Mrs. Butterfield said, "'cept at noon. And then he could set indoors. It won't be anything so bad, Lizzie. Now don't you get to worryin' 'bout him;--I know you, Lizzie Graham!" she ended, her eyes twinkling. Lizzie took off her sunbonnet again and fanned herself; she looked at her old neighbor anxiously. "Say, now, Mis' Butterfield, honest: do you think folks would talk?" "If you took Nat in and kep' him? Course they would! You know they would; you know this here town. And no wonder they'd talk. You're a nice-appearin' woman, Lizzie, yet. No; I ain't one to flatter; you _be_. And ain't he a man? and a likely man, too, for all he's crazy. Course they'd talk! Now, Lizzie, don't you get to figgerin' on this. It's just like you! How many cats have you got on your hands now? I bet you're feedin' that lame dog yet." Mrs. Graham laughed, but would not say. "Nat will get along at the Farm real good, after he gets used to it," Mrs. Butterfield went on, coaxingly; "Dean ain't hard. And Mis' Dean's many a time told me what a good table they set." "'Tain't the victuals that would trouble Nat May." "Well, Lizzie, now you promise me you won't think anything more about him visitin' you?" Mrs. Butterfield looked at her anxiously. "I guess Jonesville knows me, after I've lived here all my life!" Lizzie said, evasively. "Knows you?" Mrs. Butterfield said; "what's that got to do with it?