e
you to the house. Come, go in with me, and take a dish of tea."

"O Squire, I beg you to excuse me. I have some business at home that I
must attend to to-night, and I must go. But that is the way with me,
always! When I am in good company, I never know how time flits by, nor
where to break off my talk. Come over and see me, Squire! Do come and
see me. Good night." And as Fairbanks went for his horse to go home,
Fabens ordered his men to quit work, and they all returned to the house
in excellent spirits for supper and sleep.

Fabens had made it the effort of his life to resist flattery, and
preserve a decent self-respect without a vain emotion; but it never
grieved him to call him Squire; and there was much in what Fairbanks
said and suggested, which he thought evinced uncommon discernment, and
a clear and discriminating mind; and he was happy in the belief that it
came right up from his heart, warm and sincere. He determined that he
would not allow his own heart to take any flattery from what he had
heard; yet what was said of Fanny--and her father and mother
also!--could not be displeasing, coming as it did from one of an
elevated station and mind: and he concluded that it was right for him
to be encouraged by the compliments, and congratulated himself on the
happiness of such a family and such a friend.

He enjoyed a fine conversation with his cousin William that evening;
and showed him his farm, and visited with him all he could, the next
day; and the day following, William departed for the city, leaving many
warm regards behind, and carrying home a large supply of sweet country
summer in his soul.

XXI.

THE HUSKING.

In modern times the Husking Party has gone out of fashion in
Summerfield; but in ancient times, while the manners of the people
remained primitive and pure, this festival (for festival it was)
continued of great account. It was sometimes held in barns, and
sometimes in the open fields; and the attendance of good wives and
maidens, and the occurrence of music and dancing at the close, was no
unusual joy. We may call it a 'movable feast,' for every autumn it
moved the rounds of the Settlement; and now in rare October, and near
the wane of the month, it came Fabens' turn to hold it again.

It was one of those golden weeks when the pleasantest house seems a
prison, and you feel as if you must live day and night out of doors.
The breeze from the cool Cayuga never fanned the brow