mily in the
other. Mrs. Upton, after the war, had her choice of the pews; for all
had gone but herself, Jim, and Kitty. She had changed, the Sunday after
her marriage, to the Upton side, and she clung loyally to it ever after.
Mrs. Wagoner had taken the other pew--a cold, she explained at first,
had made her deaf. She always spoke of it afterward as "our pew." (The
Billings, from which Mrs. Wagoner came, had not been Episcopalians until
Mrs. Wagoner married.) Carry Wagoner, who was a year older than Kitty,
used to sit by her mother, with her big hat and brown hair. Jim, in
right of his sex, sat in the end of his pew.

On this Sunday in question Jim drove his mother and Kitty to church in
the horse cart.

The old carriage was a wreck, slowly dropping to pieces. The chickens
roosted in it. The cart was the only vehicle remaining which had two
sound wheels, and even one of these "wabbled" a good deal, and the
cart was "shackling." But straw placed in the bottom made it fairly
comfortable. Jim always had clean straw in it for his mother and sister.
His mother and Kitty remarked on it. Kitty looked so well. They reached
church. The day was warm, Mr. Bickersteth was dry. Jim went to sleep
during the sermon. He frequently did this. He had been up since four.
When service was over he partially waked--about half-waked. He was
standing in the aisle moving toward the door with the rest of the
congregation. A voice behind him caught his ear:

"What a lovely girl Kitty Upton is." It was Mrs. Harrison, who lived at
the other end of the parish. Jim knew the voice. Another voice replied:

"If she only were not always so shabby!" Jim knew this voice also. It
was Mrs. Wagoner's. Jim waked.

"Yes, but even her old darned dress cannot hide her. She reminds me of
------" Jim did not know what it was to which Mrs. Harrison likened her.
But he knew it was something beautiful.

"Yes," said Mrs. Wagoner; then added, "Poor thing, she's got no
education, and never will have. To think that old Colonel Duval's
fam'bly's come to this! Well, they can't blame me. They're clean run to
seed."

Jim got out into the air. He felt sick. He had been hit vitally. This
was what people thought! and it was true. They were "clean run to seed."
He went to get his cart. (He did not speak to Kitty.) His home came
before his eyes like a photograph: fences down, gates gone, houses
ruinous, fields barren. It came to him as if stamped on the retina by a
lightni