ter this assertion of
superior knowledge. She thought his manners bad, but, though more amused
than annoyed, felt herself snubbed and was silent for a time. He was
quick to perceive that he had better have held his critical tongue, and
said pleasantly, "But really it don't matter--only I was told that in
France."

She was as quick to reply, "You shouldn't say 'don't matter,' I say that
sometimes, and then Uncle James comes down on me."

"Why? I am really at a loss--"

"Oh! you must say 'doesn't'--not 'don't.'" She shook her great mass of
hair and cried merrily, "I guess we are about even now, John Penhallow."

Then they laughed gaily, as the boy said, "I wasn't very--very
courteous."

"Now that's pretty, John. Good gracious, Billy!" she cried, punching the
broad back of the driver. "Are you asleep? You are all over the road."

"Oh! I was thinkin' how Pole, the butcher, sold the Squire a horse that's
spavined--got it sent back--funny, wasn't it?"

"Look out," said Leila, "you will upset us."

John looked the uneasiness he felt, as he said, "Do you think it is
safe?"

"No, I don't. Drive on, Billy, but do be careful."

They came to the little village of Westways. At intervals Billy
communicated bits of village gossip. "Susan McKnight, she's going to
marry Finney--"

"Bother Susan," cried Leila. "Be careful."

John alarmed held on to his seat as the sleigh rocked about, while Billy
whipped up the mare.

"This is Westways, our village. It is just a row of houses. Uncle James
won't sell land on our side. Look out, Billy! Our rector lives in that
small house by the church. His name is Mark Rivers. You'll like him.
That's Mr. Grace, the Baptist preacher." She bade him good-day. "Stop,
Billy!"

He pulled up at the sidewalk. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Crocker," she said,
as the postmistress came out to the sleigh. "Please mail this. Any
letters for us?"

"No, Leila." She glanced at the curly locks above the thin face and the
wrapped up form in the shawl. "Got a nice little girl with you, Leila."

John indignant said nothing. "This is a boy--my cousin, John Penhallow,"
returned Leila.

"Law! is that so?"

"Get on," cried Leila. "Stop at Josiah's."

Here a tall, strongly built, very black negro came out. "Fine frosty day,
missy."

"Come up to the house to-night. Uncle Jim wants you."

"I'll come--sure."

"Now, get along, Billy."

The black was strange to the boy. He thought the lower orders here
disresp