n was
necessary. We was _workers_. Yer pa wa'n't bad looking. You're humlier
than either of 'em. Some ways ye take after yer grandma--though _she_
was counted pretty at one time. She was yaller and spindlin' like you,
and you've got her eyes. What yer so int'rested in yer ma's looks all
at once fer?"

"I was wondering," said Roger coolly, "if Father ever looked at her
across the table and wished she were prettier."

Catherine giggled. Her giggle was ugly and disagreeable like
everything else about her--everything except a certain odd, loving,
loyal old heart buried deep in her bosom, for the sake of which Roger
endured the giggle and all the rest.

"Dessay he did--dessay he did. Men al'ays has a hankerin' for good
looks. But ye've got to cut yer coat 'cording to yer cloth. As for yer
poor ma, she didn't live long enough to git as ugly as me. When I
come here to keep house for yer pa, folks said as it wouldn't be long
'fore he married me. _I_ wouldn't a-minded. But yer pa never hinted
it. S'pose he'd had enough of ugly women likely."

Catherine snorted amiably again. Roger got up--he couldn't endure any
more just then. He must escape.

"Now you think over what I've said," his aunt called after him. "Ye've
gotter git a wife soon, however ye manage it. 'Twon't be so hard if
ye're reasonable. Don't stay out as late as ye did last night. Ye
coughed all night. Where was ye--down at the shore?"

"No," said Roger, who always answered her questions even when he hated
to. "I was down at Aunt Isabel's grave."

"Till eleven o'clock! Ye ain't wise! I dunno what hankering ye have
after that unchancy place. _I_ ain't been near it for twenty year. I
wonder ye ain't scairt. What'd ye think ye'd do if ye saw her ghost?"

Catherine looked curiously at Roger. She was very superstitious and
she believed firmly in ghosts, and saw no absurdity in her question.

"I wish I _could_ see it," said Roger, his great eyes flashing. He
believed in ghosts too, at least in Isabel Temple's ghost. His uncle
had seen it; his grandfather had seen it; he believed he would see
it--the beautiful, bewitching, mocking, luring ghost of lovely Isabel
Temple.

"Don't wish such stuff," said Catherine. "Nobody ain't never the same
after they've seen her."

"Was Uncle different?" Roger had come back into the kitchen and was
looking curiously at his aunt.

"Diff'rent? He was another man. He didn't even _look_ the same. Sich
eyes! Al'ays looking past ye