omance of the letters which passed through his hands; he
also played the flute, wrote verses, and admired his cousin Phoebe.

"I have often thought it a pity," said Mr. Homer, "that Cousin Marcia
should not apply herself more to literary pursuits."

"I don't know what you mean by literary pursuits, Homer," said Doctor
Stedman, rather gruffly. "I found her the other day reading Johnson's
Dictionary by candlelight, without glasses. I thought that was doing
pretty well for ninety-one."

"I--a--was thinking more about other branches of literature," Mr. Homer
admitted. "The Muse, James, the Muse! Cousin Marcia takes little
interest in poetry. If she could sprinkle the--a--pathway to the tomb
with blossoms of poesy, it would be"--he waved his hands gently
abroad--"smoother; less rough; more devoid of irregularities."

"Cousin Homer, could you find it convenient not to rock?" asked Miss
Phoebe, with stately courtesy.

"Certainly, Cousin Phoebe. I beg your pardon."

It was one of Miss Phoebe's crosses that Mr. Homer would always sit in
this particular chair, and would rock; the more so that when not engaged
in conversation he was apt to open and shut his mouth in unison with the
motion of the rockers. Miss Phoebe disapproved of rocking-chairs, and
would gladly have banished this one, had it not belonged to her mother.

"I have occasionally offered to read to Cousin Marcia," Mr. Homer
continued, "from the works of Keats and--other bards; but she has
uniformly received the suggestion in a spirit of--mockery; of--derision;
of--contumely. The last time I mentioned it, she exclaimed 'Cat's foot!'
The expression struck me, I confess, as--strange; as--singular;
as--extraordinary."

"It is an old-fashioned expression, Cousin Homer," Miss Vesta put in,
gently. "I have heard our Grandmother Darracott use it, Sister
Phoebe."

"There's nothing improper in it, is there?" said Doctor Stedman.

"Really, my dear James," said Miss Phoebe, bending a literally awful
brow on her guest, "I trust not. Do you mean to imply that the
conversation of gentlewomen of my aunt's age is apt to be improper?"

"No, no," said Doctor Stedman, easily. "It only seemed to me that you
were making a good deal of Mrs. Tree's little eccentricities. But,
Phoebe, you said something a few minutes ago that I was very glad to
hear. It is pleasant to know that I am still your family physician. That
young fellow who went off the other day seems to have taken every