d
the pair seemed wholly absorbed--in nothing at all.

"Can't you speak? Are you both struck dumb all to oncet? Is that the
manners you think's polite?" demanded Mr. Jones, testily.

Then Monty spoke. "Gr-gram-ma sent me to ask how you w-w-were. I'll go
an' tell her."

"Won't you stay and play? And, oh, let me tell you. Mr. Deacon Meakin is
cleaning up the barn just splendidly, and it will be all ready for--you
know what!" cried Katy, excitedly, and forgetful of the keen ears of the
man on the cot. She was reminded of them, however, when he again
demanded:

"What's that? What'll the barn be ready for? I want you young ones to
understand there's to be no monkey shines of any sort whilst I'm laid
up. An' you're a sassy pair, the two of ye!"

"I don't mean to be saucy, but you make me. And I guess you must be
getting well very fast, 'cause widow says that being cross is a good
sign--and I'm sure you're perfectly horrid, so there!" cried Kate,
pertly, and seizing Monty's hand hurried him down the stairs.

She had no sooner reached the bottom of them than she regretted her
impertinence, and would have returned to apologize, had not Aunt Eunice
just then appeared in the doorway, wearing her street things, while
Deacon Meakin was also bringing the top-buggy around from the
carriage-house. Katharine loved driving, of which luxury she had had
very little; and the few times she had been out with Miss Maitland since
her arrival at The Maples had been her happiest hours. The whole
countryside was rich in autumn coloring, and through her artist father
the child had learned to "see things." She was continually surprising
all around her by finding such a store of beauty in every simple thing.
A yellow or scarlet leaf was far more than that to her; it was a picture
of varying tints and shades, which she would study with keenest
interest. She had pointed out to Aunt Eunice, upon that last drive
up-mountain, at least twenty-five tones of green, and had seized the
reins suddenly to stop old Dobbin that she might gaze her full upon a
decrepit cedar-tree robed and garlanded with scarlet woodbine. Marsden
village might seem dull to her after her city life, but nature more than
compensated; so that now her fear was not that she must stay, but that
her guardian--perforce--would tire of her.

"Oh, aunty! May I go?"

"No, Katharine, not to-day. I am going to visit an old friend, who is
very ill. I do not know when I shall be back, but