nd of his cigar and smiled, but he said
nothing. Afterward, as they followed the cart across the field and out
into the road, Athalia asked the old herb-gatherer many questions about
the happiness of the community life, which he answered patiently enough.
Once or twice he tried to draw into their talk the silent husband
who walked at her side, but Lewis had nothing to say. Only when some
reference was made to one of the Prophecies did he look up in sudden
interest. "You take that to mean the Judgment, do you?" he said. And for
the rest of the walk to the settlement the two men discussed the point,
the Shaker walking with one hand on the heavy shaft, for the support it
gave him, and Lewis keeping step with him.

At the foot of the hill the road widened into a grassy street, on both
sides of which, under the elms and maples, were the community houses,
big and substantial, but gauntly plain; their yellow paint, flaking and
peeling here and there, shone clean and fresh in the sparkle of morning.
Except for a black cat whose fur glistened like jet, dozing on a white
doorstep, the settlement, steeped in sunshine, showed no sign of life.
There was a strange remoteness from time about the place; a sort of
emptiness, and a silence that silenced even Athalia.

"Where IS everybody?" she said, in a lowered voice; as she spoke, a
child in a blue apron came from an open doorway and tugged a basket
across the street.

"Are there children here?" Lewis asked, surprised; and their guide said,
sadly:

"Not as many as there ought to be. The new school laws have made a great
difference. We've only got two. Folks used to send 'em to us to bring
up; oftentimes they stayed on after they were of age. Sister Lydia came
that way. Well, well, she tired of us, Lydy did, poor girl! She went
back into the world twenty years ago, now. And Sister Jane, she was a
bound-out child, too," he rambled on; "she came here when she was six;
she's seventy now."

"What!" Lewis exclaimed; "has she never known anything but--this?"

His shocked tone did not disturb the old man. "Want to see my
herb-house?" he said. "Guess you'll find some of the sisters in the
sorting-room. I'm Nathan Dale," he added, courteously.

They had come to the open door of a great, weather-beaten building, from
whose open windows an aromatic breath wandered out into the summer
air. As they crossed the worn threshold, Athalia stopped and caught her
breath in the overpowering scent of