ear, and, when the Midnight Cry rattled down the stony
hill past the Todd house, Pel took good care to expose a large green
sleeve and the side of a white bonnet at the stage window. It was easy
enough to cram the things back into the basket, jump out, and call a
cordial thank you to the unsuspecting Jerry. He was rewarded for his
ingenuity and enterprise at night, when he returned Mrs. Todd's axe, for
just as he reached the back door he distinctly heard her say that if she
saw that green woman on the stage again, she would knock her off with a
broomstick as sure as she was a Stover of Scarboro. As a matter of fact
she was equal to it. Her great-grandmother had been born on a soil where
the broomstick is a prominent factor in settling connubial differences;
and if it occurred to her at this juncture, it is a satisfactory proof
of the theory of atavism.

Pel intended to see this domestic tragedy through to the end, and
accordingly took another brief trip in costume the very next week,
hoping to be the witness of a scene of blood and carnage. But Mrs. Todd
did not stir from her house, although he was confident she had seen "my
lady green-sleeves" from her post at the window. Puzzled by her apathy,
and much disappointed in her temper, he took off the dress, and,
climbing up in front, rode to Moderation, where he received an urgent
invitation to go over to the county fair at Gorham. The last idea was
always the most captivating to Pel, and he departed serenely for a stay
of several days without so much luggage as a hairbrush. His mother's
best clothespin basket, to say nothing of its contents, appeared at this
juncture to be an unexpected incumbrance; so on the spur of the moment
he handed it up to Jerry just as the stage was starting, saying, "If
Mis' Todd has a brash to-night, you can clear yourself by showing her
this basket, but for massy sakes don't lay it on to me! You can stan' it
better'n I can,--you 're more used to it!"

Jerry took the basket, and when he was well out on the road he looked
inside and saw a bright green calico wrapper, a white cape bonnet, a
white "fall veil," and a pair of white cotton gloves. He had ample time
for reflection, for it was a hot day, and though he drove slowly, the
horses were sweating at every pore. Pel Frost, then, must have overheard
his wife's storm of reproaches, perhaps even her threats of violence.
It had come to this, that he was the village laughing-stock, a butt of
ridicu