t year John made few additions to his social
acquaintance, and if in the summer the sight of a gay party of young
people caused some stirrings in his breast, they were not strong enough
to induce him to make any attempts toward the acquaintance which he
might have formed. He was often conscious of glances of curiosity
directed toward himself, and Mr. Euston was asked a good many questions
about the latest addition to his congregation.

Yes, he had called upon Mr. Lenox and his call had been returned. In
fact, they had had several visits together--had met out walking once and
had gone on in company. Was Mr. Lenox "nice"? Yes, he had made a
pleasant impression upon Mr. Euston, and seemed to be a person of
intelligence and good breeding--very gentlemanlike. Why did not people
know him? Well, Mr. Euston had made some proffers to that end, but Mr.
Lenox had merely expressed his thanks. No, Mr. Euston did not know how
he happened to be in Homeville and employed by that queer old Mr. Harum,
and living with him and his funny old sister; Mr. Lenox had not confided
in him at all, and though very civil and pleasant, did not appear to
wish to be communicative.

So our friend did not make his entrance that season into the drawing or
dining rooms of any of what David called the "nabobs'" houses. By the
middle or latter part of October Homeville was deserted of its visitors
and as many of that class of its regular population as had the means to
go with and a place to go to.

It was under somewhat different auspices that John entered upon the
second winter of his sojourn. It has been made plain that his relations
with his employer and the kind and lovable Polly were on a satisfactory
and permanent footing.

"I'm dum'd," said David to Dick Larrabee, "if it hain't got putty near
to the p'int when if I want to git anythin' out o' the common run out o'
Polly, I'll have to ask John to fix it fer me. She's like a cow with a
calf," he declared.

"David sets all the store in the world by him," stated Mrs. Bixbee to a
friend, "though he don't jest let on to--not in so many words. He's got
a kind of a notion that his little boy, if he'd lived, would 'a' ben
like him some ways. I never seen the child," she added, with an
expression which made her visitor smile, "but as near 's I c'n make out
f'm Dave's tell, he must 'a' ben red-headed. Didn't you know 't he'd
ever ben married? Wa'al, he was fer a few years, though it's the one
thing--wa'al,