fence with one another.

As her own overture to a Sabbath peace, Susanna went to the foot of the
stairs and called, in her cheerfullest voice:

"Time to get up, 'Kitty Keehoty'!"

"Oh, yes! Good morning, Susanna! I've been up ever so long--much as ten
minutes, I guess."

"Flannel cakes an' maple syrup for breakfast," returned the housekeeper,
as a parting salute, and really very happy to have all clouds blown free
of the domestic sky.

Moses had already breakfasted, and had by this time become so far
accustomed to his hard position on the cot that he had ceased to grumble
at it. That is, he had not grumbled on that morning, and had forgotten
his growls of yesterday. He was ready with a smile for his little nurse
when she came in with the new copy of the _Chronicle_, to read him a few
paragraphs while Susanna fried the cakes. Later, she brought a big bunch
of chrysanthemums and put them on his bureau; then tidied the room even
beyond its usual order, since on Sundays, when his neighbors had
leisure, the invalid was sure to have many visitors.

Indeed, as Susanna informed Katharine at breakfast, Deacon Meakin
himself was coming to sit the whole afternoon with his afflicted
predecessor. Kate, herself, was to go alone to church in the morning,
and remember that she was to behave exactly as if Eunice were beside
her. In the afternoon, during the deacon's temporary charge of the
house, Susanna would take Katharine on that long promised walk to "my
cottage."

"I've been terr'ble anxious 'bout it ever sence that tramp come to town,
an' now sence you've seen an' talked with him, an' I know that he's
runnin' 'round loose still, I must go take a look. That's the worst o'
prope'ty, it's a dreadful care."

"But it must be just delightful to own such a cute little cottage as
yours, all vines and trees--"

"The chimbley smoked," interjected the widow, feeling free to disparage
her own "prope'ty," though she would have resented such a remark from
another.

"That could be fixed, I reckon. When I saw it from the stage, coming, I
thought it was just like a doll-house, or a child's playhouse."

"Huh! You did, did you? Well, let me tell you, Katharine Maitland, that
house is a good one. Spriggs, he had it built first-class, with a room
finished off in the roof--attic, he called it--three good rooms on the
ground floor, white-painted clapboards an' reg'lar blinds, green blinds
with slats turnin' easy as nothin'. Not like the ol