"I suppose not."

"Am I to be allowed to write to her?"

"I think not. There is some rule that letters, but--" and she laughed
merrily. The rector, who worshipped her, said once that her laugh was
like the spring song of birds. "But sometimes I may be naughty enough to
let you slip a few lines into my letters."

"That is more than I hoped for. I am--I was so glad to get you back, Aunt
Ann, that I forgot to tell you, Mr. George Grey has come."

"How delightful! He has been promising a visit for years. How pleased
James will be! I wonder how the old bachelor ever made up his mind. I
hope you made it pleasant, John."

"I tried to, aunt." Whether James Penhallow would like it was for John
doubtful, but he said nothing further.

"The cities are wild about politics, and there is no end of trouble in
Philadelphia over the case of a fugitive slave. I was glad to get away to
Grey Pine."

John had never heard her mention this tender subject and was not
surprised when she added quickly, "But I never talk politics, John, and
you are too young to know anything about them." This was by no means
true, as she well knew. "How are my chickens?" She asked endless
questions of small moment.

"Got a new fishing-rod," said Billy, but to John's amusement did not
pursue the story concerning which George Grey had gleefully enlightened
him.

"Well, at last, Cousin George," she cried, as the cousin gave her his
hand on the porch. "Glad to see you--most glad. Come in when you have
finished your cigar."

She followed John into the hall. "Ah! the dear home." Then her eyes fell
on the much used spittoon by the fireside. "Good gracious, John, a--a
spittoon!"

"Yes, aunt. Mr. Grey chews."

"Indeed!" She looked at the box and went upstairs. For years to come and
in the most incongruous surroundings John Penhallow now and then laughed
as he saw again the look with which Mrs. Ann regarded the article so
essential to Mr. Grey's comfort. She disliked all forms of tobacco use,
and the law of the pipe had long ago been settled at Grey Pine as Mrs.
Penhallow decreed, because that was always what James Penhallow decided
to think desirable.

"But this! this!" murmured the little lady, as she came down the
staircase ready for dinner. She rang for the maid. "Take that thing away
and wash it well, and put in fresh sawdust twice a day."

"I hope John has been a good host," she said, as Grey entered the hall.

"Couldn't be better, and I have had s