ld her of the famous Don Quixote for whom he had nicknamed her. Then,
in turn, he pointed out to her the old meeting-house and graveyard, long
since disused, where the Marsdenites had repaired to take their Sunday
lunch.

"But it was so--so funny! So absurd, so sort of--of ghastly, wasn't it?
But what a perfectly glorious place for a hallowe'en party--if there was
anybody to give a party to. I wish there was somebody to play with,
Uncle Moses."

Moses ignored the wish. He was not anxious that Katharine should enlarge
her acquaintance, which would mean more trouble for all concerned. He
merely continued to discourse upon the ancient customs, of how not only
did the people bring their dinners to the church, but the mothers their
babies, with rocking-chairs furnished galore by the congregation, and
ranged in the roomy vestibule. There the mothers could sway their
offspring gently to and fro without losing their own religious
privileges or disturbing anybody.

Kate listened in silence till a bend of the road hid the meeting-house
from view, then exclaimed:

"I can see the whole picture. I mean to paint it when I grow up. But I
shall give the babies cherubic faces, like the old masters, because I
suppose most of them are angels now. I hope they know I'm thinking about
them, and I wonder if papa sees any of them there, up in heaven. What do
you think?"

Even as Susanna had done, the hired man stared at Katharine, saying:

"I think--I don't know what I do think! I think I know some of them
babies that grew up to be anything but angels. If they'd been made into
angels a little earlier in their lives 'twould ha' been better for
Marsden, an' I shouldn't feel it my painful duty to 'rest 'em when I get
to be constable--if ever I'm elected," and then Moses sighed so
profoundly that Katharine's thoughts flew from this old-time
reminiscence to the present day's ambitions. Slipping her hand softly
into the one of his that swung at his side, she gave it a little
squeeze, and asked:

"Do you awfully want to be a constable? Just awfully, Uncle Mose?"

There was so much of sympathy in the small face at his elbow that Mr.
Jones was caught unawares.

"Well, 'Kitty Keehoty,' wild horses wouldn't have drug it out of me to
anybody else; but I don't mind lettin' on to you, just you, that I'd
admire to be one. I'd like it real well. But, that's nuther here nor
there. Likin' things an' havin' 'em is as different as chalk an' cheese.
An