could hardly wait until the painstaking and
elaborate ceremonial was completed.

"Now let Tony sign," she ordered imperiously. "He needn't stop to wash his
hands. A little dirt won't be no hindrance, an' I'm in a hurry to get this
thing out of the way so Mr. Benton can go back."

Yet notwithstanding Ellen's haste, for Tony to affix his name to the
document in question proved to be little short of a life work. Six times
he had to be instructed on which line to write; and when on the seventh
admonition his mind but vaguely grasped what was required of him, the
lawyer took his stand at his elbow and with finger planted like a
guidepost on the paper indicated beyond all chance of error where the
signature was to be placed. When, however, the pen was redipped and
upraised for the final legal touch, again it faltered. This time the delay
was caused by uncertainties of spelling, which, it must be confessed, also
baffled the combined intellects of the lawyer and the two women.
Paponollari was not a name commonly encountered in New England. The three
wrestled with it valiantly, but when a vote was taken, and it was set down
in accordance with the ruling of the majority, it was disheartening to
discover that, when all was said and done, the Portuguese lad was not at
all sure whether Tony was his Christian name or not.

"Good Lord!" ejaculated Ellen when, after more debating, the signature was
finally inscribed, "I'm clean beat out. Why, I could have deeded away the
whole United States in the time it's taken this lout of a boy to scribble
his name. Is it any wonder that with only a stupid idiot like this for
help, my garden's always behind other folks', an' my chores never done?"

Then to the bewildered, nerve-wracked alien she thundered:

"Don't blot it, you fool!--don't blot it! Can't you keep your fingers out
of the wet ink? Heavens, Melviny, do get him out of here!"

Tony was only too ready to retire. The ordeal had strained his patience
and had left his brain feeling the stress of unaccustomed exercise.
Therefore, allowing Melvina to drive him before her much as she would have
driven a docile Jersey from a cabbage patch, he made his way downstairs,
followed by the perspiring lawyer.

It was not until both of them were safely on the road to the village, and
the house had assumed its customary calm that Lucy arrived, her hair
tumbled by the wind and her eyes glowing like stars.

"I've got your berries, Aunt Ellen," she