right to such a privilege.

"Nellie's well. Little Tom's eyes have been troubling him since he had
the measles, but the doctor thinks it's nothing serious. Look here,
Persis, I was wondering as I came along if you knew that I _chewed_."

Persis' lids dropped just in time to hide a quizzical, humorous gleam
in her eyes. The rest of her face remained becomingly grave. "I may
have suspected it, Thomas."

"It's a filthy habit," he said, inordinately relieved by her astuteness
and yet with wonder.

She looked up from her work to explain. "It's this way, Thomas.
Sometimes when I go into the store I catch sight of you before you see
me, and maybe one of your cheeks will be all swollen up as if you had
the toothache. Then you slip into the back room, and come out in
quarter of a minute with both of 'em the same size. It's a woman's
way, Thomas, to put two and two together."

Thomas' face was radiant. That weight was off his conscience. He had
a right to proceed to more agreeable disclosures, undeterred by the
fear of practising deception on the noblest of God's creatures. It
contributed to his joy that Persis had known of his weakness, and yet
had not crushed him with her contempt. She had not even expressed
agreement when he had called chewing tobacco a filthy habit.

"Persis," he began in his deepest tones, "I was thinking as I came
along--"

The stairs creaked and Persis interrupted him. "There's Joel. It
makes it hard for him when the days are getting longer all the time.
He'll be glad when we have to light the lamps at five."

Thomas was in a mood to wish that the village of Clematis basked in the
rays of the midnight sun. He forced a smile to his reluctant lips as
Persis' brother entered and magnanimously put the question, "How do you
find yourself to-night, Joel?" though he knew only too well the
consequences to which this exposed him. There was no surer passport to
Joel's favor than to inquire about his health if one was also willing
to listen to his answer. The people who said, "How do you do?" and
immediately began to talk of something else were the objects of Joel's
detestation, while his grateful affection went out to the select few
willing to hear in detail his physical biography since their last
meeting. Joel experienced the same satisfaction in describing the
pains in his abdomen or an attack of palpitation that a bride feels in
exhibiting her trousseau.

"I've nothing to complain of,