. The
Durgins are as good as wheat, right along, all of 'em; and I guess Mis'
Durgin's mother must have been a pretty good woman too. Mis' Durgin's all
right, too, if she has got a will of her own." Whitwell returned from his
scientific inquiry to ask: "How 'll she take it?"

"I don't know," said Cynthia, dreamily, but without apparent misgiving.
"That's Jeff's lookout."

"So 'tis. I guess she won't make much fuss. A woman never likes to see
her son get married; but you've been a kind of daughter to her so long.
Well, I guess that part of it 'll be all right. Jackson," said Whitwell,
in a tone of relief, as if turning from an irrelevant matter to something
of real importance, "was down here to-night tryin' to ring up some them
spirits from the planet Mars. Martians, he calls 'em. His mind's got to
runnin' a good deal on Mars lately. I guess it's this apposition that
they talk about that does it. Mars comin' so much nearer the earth by a
million of miles or so, it stands to reason that he should be more
influenced by the minds on it. I guess it's a case o' that telepathy that
Mr. Westover tells about. I judge that if he kept at it before Mars gits
off too far again he might make something out of it. I couldn't seem to
find much sense in what plantchette done to-night; we couldn't either of
us; but she has her spells when you can't make head or tail of her. But
mebbe she's just leadin' up to something, the way she did about that
broken shaft when Jeff come home. We ha'n't ever made out exactly what
she meant by that yet."

Whitwell paused, and Cynthia seized the advantage of his getting round to
Jeff again. "He wanted to give up going to Harvard this last year, but I
wouldn't let him."

"Jeff did?" asked her father. "Well, you done a good thing that time,
anyway, Cynthy. His mother 'd never get over it."

"There's something else she's got to get over, and I don't know how she
ever will. He's going to give up the law."

"Give up the law!"

"Yes. Don't tease, father! He says he's never cared about it, and he
wants to keep a hotel. I thought that I'd ought to tell him how we felt
about Jackson's having a rest and going off somewhere; and he wanted to
begin at once. But I said if he left off the last year at Harvard I
wouldn't have anything to do with him."

Whitwell put his hand in his pocket for his knife, and mechanically
looked down for a stick to whittle. In default of any, he scratched his
head. "I guess she'l