g
with a deep voice began to bark. They drove up to the front gate
and stopped. The dog barked in a frenzy of rage, and they heard
his straining and jerking at his chain. A clump of cedars
brooded to the right of the house; their trunks were whitewashed
up to the lowest branches. The house had a high stoop with
wooden steps.

As Warham descended and hallooed, there came a fierce tugging at
the front door from the inside. But the front door was not in
the habit of being opened, and stoutly resisted. The assault
grew more strenuous; the door gave way and a tall thin farmer
appeared.

"Hello, Zeke," called George. He opened the surrey door. "Get
down," he said to the girl, at the same time taking her bundle.
He set it on the horse block beside the gate, took out his
pocketbook and paid over the four dollars. "Good-by, Vic," said
he pleasantly. "That's a good team you've got."

"Not so coarse," said Vic. "Good-by, Mr. Warham." And off he drove.

Zeke Warham had now descended the steps and was opening the
front gate, which was evidently as unaccustomed to use as the
front door. "Howdy, George," said he. "Ain't that Susie you've
got with you?" Like George, Zeke had had an elementary
education. But he had married an ignorant woman, and had lived
so long among his farm hands and tenants that he used their mode
of speech.

"Yes, it's Susie," said George, shaking hands with his brother.

"Howdy, Susie," said Zeke, shaking hands with her. "I see you've
got your things with you. Come to stay awhile?"

George interrupted. "Susan, go up on the porch and take your bundle."

The girl took up the shawl strap and went to the front door. She
leaned upon the railing of the stoop and watched the two men
standing at the gate. George was talking to his brother in a low
tone. Occasionally the brother uttered an ejaculation. She could
not hear; their heads were so turned that she could not see
their faces. The moon made it almost as bright as day. From the
pasture woods came a low, sweet chorus of night life--frogs and
insects and occasionally a night bird. From the orchard to the
left and the clover fields beyond came a wonderful scented
breeze. She heard a step in the hall; her Aunt Sallie
appeared--a comfortable, voluble woman, a hard worker and a
harder eater and showing it in thin hair and wrinkled face.

"Why, Susie Lenox, ain't that you?" she exclaimed.

"Yes, Aunt," said Susan.

Her aunt kissed