d here" (raising the
lid of a trunk and exposing a pile of clean and neatly-folded clothing
that might have been anything, and drawing the articles forth one by
one)--"look at them! There's that--and that--and this--and----"

"I say, what's this, Mother?" interrupted Joe, holding up something he
had discovered.

"And that--an'----"

"Mother!"

"And this----"

"Eh, Mother?"

"Don't bother me, boy, it's her tooth-brush," and Mother pitched the
clothes back into the trunk and glared round. Meanwhile, Joe was hard
at his teeth with the brush.

"Oh, here!" and she dived at the bed and drew a night-gown from beneath
the pillow, unfolded it, and held it up by the neck for inspection.

Dad, with his huge, ungainly, hairy paws behind him, stood mute, like
the great pitiful elephant he was, and looked at the tucks and the
rest--stupidly. "Where before did y'ever see such tucks and frills and
lace on a night-shirt? Why, you'd think 't were for goin' to picnics
in, 'stead o' goin' to bed with. Here, too! here's a pair of brand new
stays, besides the ones she's on her back. Clothes!--she's nothin'
else but clothes."

Then they came out, and Joe began to spit and said he thought there
must have been something on that brush.

Miss Ribbone did n't stay the full month--she left at the end of the
second week; and Mother often used to wonder afterwards why the
creature never came to see us.

Chapter XXV.

The Man with the Bear-Skin Cap.

One evening a raggedly-dressed man, with a swag on his back, a
bear-skin cap on his head, and a sheath-knife in his belt, came to our
place and took possession of the barn. Dad ordered him off. The man
offered to fight Dad for the barn. Dad ran in and got the gun. Then
the man picked up his swag and went away. The incident caused much
talk for a few days, but we soon forgot all about it; and the man with
the bear-skin cap passed from our minds.

Church service was to be held at our selection. It was the first
occasion, in fact, that the Gospel had come to disturb the contentedly
irreligious mind of our neighbourhood. Service was to open at 3 p.m.;
at break-of-day we had begun to get ready.

Nothing but bustle and hurry. Buttons to be sewn on Dave's shirt;
Dad's pants--washed the night before and left on the clothes-line all
night to bleach--lost; Little Bill's to be patched up generally; Mother
trotting out to the clothes-line every minute to see if Joe's coat w