ett say, in recess one
day, that her brother had seen me in church, and came home with the
opinion that I was the handsomest girl in Miss Black's school.

"Is it possible!" replied the girl to whom she had made the remark. "I
never should think of calling her pretty."

"Stop, Veronica," I called; "am I pretty?" She turned back. "Everybody
in Surrey says so; and everybody says I am not." And she banged the
door against me.

She did not come to Barmouth again. She was ill in the winter, and,
father told me, queerer than ever, and more trouble. The summer
passed, and I had no particular torment, except Miss Black's reference
to composition. I could not do justice to the themes she gave us, not
having the books from which she took them at command, and betrayed
an ignorance which excited her utmost contempt, on "The Scenery of
Singapore," "The Habits of the Hottentots," and "The Relative Merits
of Homer and Virgil."

In October Sally and Ruth Aiken came for the fall sewing. They had
farmed it all summer, they said, and were tanned so deep a hue that
their faces bore no small resemblance to ham. Ruth brought me some
apples in an ochre-colored bag, and Sally eyed me with her old
severity. As they took their accustomed seats at the table, I thought
they had swallowed the interval of time which had gone by since they
left, so precisely the same was the moment of their leaving and that
of their coming back. I knew grand'ther no better than when I saw him
first. He was sociable to those who visited the house, but never with
those abiding in his family. Me he never noticed, except when I ate
less than usual; then he peered into my face, and said, "What ails
you?" We had the benefit of his taciturn presence continually, for he
rarely went out; and although he did not interfere with Aunt Mercy's
work, he supervised it, weighed and measured every article that was
used, and kept the cellar and garden in perfect order.

It was approaching the season of killing the pig, and he conferred
often with Aunt Mercy on the subject. The weather was watched, and the
pig poked daily, in the hope that the fat was thickening on his ribs.
When the day of his destiny arrived, there was almost confusion in the
house, and for a week after, of evenings, grand'ther went about with a
lantern, and was not himself till a new occupant was obtained for the
vacant pen, and all his idiosyncracies revealed and understood.

"Grand'ther," I asked, "will the b