nd hurt love, stricken pride and sick suspense.

Instead of that, Ivory turned the subject cheerily, saying, "Well, we're
sure of a good season, I think. There's been a grand snow-fall, and
that, they say, is the poor man's manure. Rod and I will put in more
corn and potatoes this year. I shan't have to work single-handed very
long, for he is growing to be quite a farmer."

"Your father was very fond of green corn, but he never cared for
potatoes," Mrs. Boynton said, vaguely, taking up her knitting. "I always
had great pride in my cooking, but I could never get your father to
relish my potatoes."

"Well, his son does, anyway," Ivory replied, helping himself plentifully
from a dish that held one of his mother's best concoctions, potatoes
minced fine and put together into the spider with thin bits of pork and
all browned together.

"I saw the Baxter girls to-day, mother," he continued, not because
he hoped she would give any heed to what he said, but from the sheer
longing for companionship. "The Deacon drove off with Lawyer Wilson, who
wanted him to give testimony in some case or other down in Milltown. The
minute Patty saw him going up Saco Hill, she harnessed the old starved
Baxter mare and the girls started over to the Lower Corner to see some
friends. It seems it's Patty's birthday and they were celebrating. I
met them just as they were coming back and helped them lift the rickety
wagon out of the mud; they were stuck in it up to the hubs of the
wheels. I advised them to walk up the Town-House Hill if they ever
expected to get the horse home."

"Town-House Hill!" said Ivory's mother, dropping her knitting. "That was
where we had such wonderful meetings! Truly the Lord was present in
our midst, and oh, Ivory! the visions we saw in that place when Jacob
Cochrane first unfolded his gospel to us. Was ever such a man!"

"Probably not, mother," remarked Ivory dryly.

"You were speaking of the Baxters. I remember their home, and the little
girl who used to stand in the gateway and watch when we came out of
meeting. There was a baby, too; isn't there a Baxter baby, Ivory?"

"She didn't stay a baby; she is seventeen years old to-day, mother."

"You surprise me, but children do grow very fast. She had a strange
name, but I cannot recall it."

"Her name is Patience, but nobody but her father calls her anything but
Patty, which suits her much better."

"No, the name wasn't Patience, not the one I mean."

"The older