y to run over and see Cousin Morris, inasmuch as he was
not polite enough to come here, and you know it might not be so
pleasant."

"The land!" and Aunt Betsy brightened. "If that's all, eat 'em. 'Tain't
noways likely you'll get near enough to him to make any difference--only
turn your head when you shake hands."

But Katy remained incorrigible, while Helen, who guessed that her
impulsive sister was contemplating a warmer greeting of the doctor than
a mere shaking of his hands, kindly turned the conversation by telling
how Morris was improved by his tour abroad, and how much the poor people
thought of him.

"He is very fine looking, too," she said, whereupon Katy involuntarily
exclaimed: "I wonder if he is as handsome as Wilford Cameron? Oh, I
never wrote about him, did I?" and the little maiden began to blush as
she stirred her tea industriously.

"Who is Wilford Cameron?" asked Mrs. Lennox.

"Oh, he's Wilford Cameron, that's all; lives on Fifth Avenue--is a
lawyer--is very rich--a friend of Mrs. Woodhull, and was with us in
our travels," Katy answered, rapidly, the red burning on her cheeks so
brightly that Aunt Betsy innocently passed her a big feather fan, saying
she looked mighty hot.

And Katy was warm, but whether from talking of Wilford Cameron or not
none could tell. She said no more of him, but went on to speak of
Morris, asking if it were true, as she had heard, that he built the
new church in Silverton.

"Yes, and runs it, too," Aunt Betsy answered, energetically, proceeding
to tell what goin's-on they had, with the minister shiftin' his clothes
every now and ag'in, and the folks all talkin' together. "Morris got me
in once," she said, "and I thought meetin' was left out half a dozen
times, so much histin' round as there was. I'd as soon go to a show, if
it was a good one, and I told Morris so. He laughed and said I'd feel
different when I knew 'em better; but needn't tell me that prayers made
up is as good as them as isn't, though Morris, I do believe, will get to
heaven a long ways ahead of me, if he is a 'Piscopal."

To this there was no response, and being launched on her favorite topic,
Aunt Betsy continued:

"If you'll believe it, Helen here is one of 'em, and has got a sight
of 'Piscopal quirks into her head. Why, she and Morris sing that
talkin'-like singin' Sundays when the folks git up and Helen plays the
accordeon."

"Melodeon, aunty, melodeon," and Helen laughed merrily at her aunt's