st have your own
house."

Mrs. Anderson, on her part, had concluded to make the best of it. Julia
already married and the mistress of the Anderson river farm was quite a
different thing from Julia under her thumb. She was to be conciliated.
Besides, Mrs. Anderson did not want Julia's prosperity to be a lifelong
source of humiliation to her. She must take some stock in it at
the start.

"Jule," she said, as her daughter re-entered the door, "I can let you
have two feather-beds and four pillows, and a good stock of linen and
blankets. And you can have the two heifers and the sorrel colt."

The two "heifers" were six, and the sorrel "colt" was seven years of
age; but descriptive names often outlive the qualities to which they
owed their origin. Just as a judge is even yet addressed as "your
honor," and many a governor without anything to recommend him hears
himself called "your excellency."

When Abigail surrendered in this graceful fashion, Julia was touched,
and was on the point of putting her arms around her mother and kissing
her. But Mrs. Anderson was not a person easily caressed, and Julia did
not yield to her impulse.

"Cynthy Ann, my dear," said Jonas, as they walked home that evening, "do
you know what Abig'il Anderson reminds me of?"

No; Cynthy Ann didn't exactly know. In fact, it would have been
difficult for anybody to have told what anything was likely to remind
Jonas of. There was no knowing what a thing might not suggest to him.

"Well, Cynthy, my Imperial Sweetness, when I see Abig'il come down so
beautiful, it reminded me of a little fice-t dog I had when I was a
leetle codger. I called him Pick. His name was Picayune. Purty good
name, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was."

"Well, now, that air little Pick wouldn't never own up as he was driv
outen the house. When he was whipped out, he wouldn't never tuck his
tail down, but curl it up over his back, and run acrost the yard and
through the fence and down the road a-barkin' fit to kill. Wanted to let
on like as ef he'd run out of his own accord, with malice aforethought,
you know. _That's_ Abig'il."

CHAPTER XLV.

NEW PLANS.

Except Abigail Anderson and one other person, everybody in the little
world of Clark township approved mightily the justice and
disinterestedness of Andrew. He had righted himself and Julia at a
stroke, and people dearly love to have justice dealt out when it is not
at their own expense. Samuel, who cherished in secret a gr