lived. The garden was as prim as
ever, the walks as straight and well kept. The inevitable white curtains
were fluttering freshly from the window, over which a huge matrimony
vine drooped lazily and rung its pink and white bells to invite the
passing bees.

Eliphalet paused at the gate and heaved a deep sigh. So much depended
upon the issue of his present visit. The stream of his life had been
flowing so smoothly before. Now if its tranquillity were disturbed it
never could be stilled again. Did he dare to risk so much upon so
hazardous a chance? Were it not better to go back home, back to his old
habits and his old ease, without knowing his fate? That would at least
leave him the pleasure of speculating. He might delude himself with the
hope that some day--He faltered. His hand was on the gate, but his face
was turned back towards the way he had come. Should he enter, or should
he go back? Fate decided for him, for at this juncture the door opened,
and Miss Hester appeared in the doorway and called out, "Do come in,
'Liphalet. What air you a-standin' out there so long a-studyin' about,
fur all the world like a bashful boy?"

The shot told. He was a bashful boy again, going fearfully, tremblingly,
lovingly, to see the girl of his heart; but there was no old Bess to
whinny encouragement to him from over the little fence. If he blushed,
even the scrutinising eyes of Miss Prime did not see it, for the bronze
laid on his face by summers and winters of exposure; but he felt the hot
blood rush up to his face and neck, and the perspiration breaking out on
his brow. He paused long enough to mop his face, and then, saying to
Fred, in a low tone, "You stay in the garden, my boy, until it 's all
over," he opened the gate and entered in the manner of one who leads a
forlorn hope through forest aisles where an ambush is suspected. The
door closed behind him. Interested, excited, wondering and fearing,
doubting and hoping, Fred remained in the garden. There were but two
thoughts in his head, and they were so new and large that his poor boy's
cranium had room for no more. They ran in this wise: "Miss Prime is
Uncle 'Liphalet's girl, and Elizabeth is mine."

Within, Miss Prime was talking on in her usual decided fashion, while
the man sat upon the edge of his chair and wondered how he could break
in upon the stream of her talk and say what was in his heart. At last
the lady exclaimed, "I do declare, 'Liphalet, what kin be the matter