me very pretty thoughts, Mrs. Bascom, do you know it?"

"It's the first time I ever heard tell of it," said Diadema cheerfully.
"Lovey was the pretty-spoken, pretty-appearing one; I was always plain
and practical. While I think of it, I'll draw in a little mite of this
red into my carnation pink. It was a red scarf Reuben brought Lovey from
Portland. It was the first thing he ever give her, and aunt Hitty said
if one of the Abel Grangers give away anything that cost money, it meant
business. That was all fol-de-rol, for there never was a more liberal
husband, though he was a poor minister; but then they always _are_ poor,
without they're rich; there don't seem to be any halfway in ministers.

"We was both lucky that way. There ain't a stingy bone in Jot Bascom's
body. He don't make much money, but what he does make goes into the
bureau drawer, and the one that needs it most takes it out. He never
asks me what I done with the last five cents he give me. You 've never
been married Miss Hollis, and you ain't engaged, so you don't know much
about it; but I tell you there 's a heap o' foolishness talked about
husbands. If you get the one you like yourself, I don't know as it
matters if all the other women folks in town don't happen to like him
as well as you do; they ain't called on to do that. They see the face
he turns to them, not the one he turns to you. Jot ain't a very good
provider, nor he ain't a man that 's much use round a farm, but he 's
such a fav'rite I can't blame him. There 's one thing: when he does
come home he 's got something to say, and he 's always as lively as a
cricket, and smiling as a basket of chips. I like a man that 's good
comp'ny, even if he ain't so forehanded. There ain't anything specially
lovable about forehandedness, when you come to that. I shouldn't ever
feel drawed to a man because he was on time with his work. He 's got
such pleasant ways, Jot has! The other afternoon he didn't get home
early enough to milk; and after I done the two cows, I split the
kindling and brought in the wood, for I knew he 'd want to go to the
tavern and tell the boys 'bout the robbery up to Boylston. There ain't
anybody but Jot in this village that has wit enough to find out what 's
going on, and tell it in an int'resting way round the tavern fire. And
he can do it without being full of cider, too; he don't need any apple
juice to limber _his_ tongue!

"Well, when he come in, he see the pails of milk, and the