ndependence. But
Susie's strength had given way before the hard work, and she lay all
day in bed, or dragged her weary limbs about the house, a hopeless
invalid, and her father's chief grievance in life. Elizabeth's warm
heart was always filled with a passionate pity for Susie, and she
rarely visited home without running across the fields to brighten a
half-hour for the sick girl.

Just at this moment there arose from the fields opposite the Martin
farm a rollicking song--loud, clear, compelling attention, and poured
forth in a rich baritone.

"_O, and it's whippity-whoppity too,
And how I'd love to sing to you,
I'd laugh and sing
With joy and glee,
If Mistress McQuarry would marry me,
If Mistress McQuarry would marry me!_"

The last line was fairly shouted in a way that showed the singer was
anxious to be heard.

"Tom's trying to outsing the robins," cried John Coulson, pulling up
his horses. Mr. Teeter was coming across a rich brown field behind his
harrow. John Coulson waved his hat.

"Hello, Tom, I tell you they lost a fine singer when they made an
orator out of you! Give us a shake!"

Tom was over the fence in a twinkling, and shaking the newcomers' hands.

"Sure it's awful college swells ye're gettin' to be, wid your high
collars. Have ye made up yer mind to be a preacher yet?" He looked at
Charles Stuart.

"No, I haven't," said Charles Stuart hastily.

"Well ye ought to be ashamed o' yerself, wid the mother ye've got. So
ye heard me singin' now?" His eyes gleamed with mischievous delight.
"I was shoutin' for a purpose." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder
in the direction of the man working in the Martin fields. "Look at
that say-sarpent wigglin' over there. It makes him so mad he could set
fire to me." He laughed so explosively that the horses started. "He's
coortin'. Yes, siree, but he don't like to have it advertised."

"Who's the poor woman?" asked Mrs. Annie in distress.

"Auntie Jinit McKerracher! They say she throwed the dish-water on him
the last time he went sparkin'. Hi! young shaver!" This to the
Vision, who had insisted upon sitting erect, and was now looking about
him. "Oh, he's the broth of a boy, sure enough, Lizzie. Now ye'll be
sure all o' yez to come over and see mother; don't ye dare go back
widout. I suppose yous two didn't hear anything o' poor Sandy and the
wee girl in Toronto, did ye?"

John shook his head. "We heard they were living w