ttle
curling up to the ceiling.

The frequenters of the milkstand got on the nail-kegs and packing-boxes
of the veranda, and discussed astronomy and enjoyed the music. It was
a fine situation for studying the stars, for the house stood at the end
of the village, opposite the school, and commanded a view of the pond
and the valley and a great stretch of sky.

The planet Mars, and its possible inhabitants, was under discussion
when Spectacle John Cross came up the steps with a bundle of hymn-books
under his arm.

"Ye see," Silas was explaining, "it ain't one o' yer ordinary stars.
Lord love ye! it's a 'igh sight better'n that. It's a planet, that's
wot it is, like our own world, an' it keeps a-spinnin' 'round the sun
like our earth, too." He ended up with a descriptive sweep of his arm,
and gazed triumphantly at his enemy.

"Did ye ever hear the likes o' such balderdash?" sneered Spectacle
John, appealing to Jake Sawyer.

Jake passed his hands, in some perplexity, over the youngest orphan's
curls. "Most folks'll tell ye the same, John," he said, regarding his
partner doubtfully. "The doctor, there, now--look at the eddication
he's had!--an' he says the same."

"It's my opinion," said the miller, "that the more book learnin' a man
crams into his head the more common sense gets squeezed out. It stands
to reason that there couldn't be room for everything unless his head
was to swell like a punkin."

"Huh!" cried Sandy McQuarry impatiently. "Ony fool can see the world's
round; but when folks go far enough to tell a body that pin-points like
yon are as big as this world, that's jist clean ridic'l'us."

"Well," exclaimed Spectacle John, "if ye once get it fixed in yer head
that this world's bumpin' 'round through the air like a football, there
isn't anny fool yarn you're not ready to believe." He stopped
suddenly. The Duke of Wellington was coming up the steps, and his
remarks trailed off into coughs and incoherent murmurs about the
weather. Spectacle John knew better than to air his scientific
theories before the Duke. She gave a contemptuous sniff and passed
into the parlor.

Silas Long chuckled. "John knows w'en to shut his mouth, don't ee,
now, John?" he asked facetiously.

Sandy McQuarry grunted scornfully. "Losh! afore Ah'd be scared by a
wumman!" he exclaimed witheringly.

Spectacle John looked sheepish. "There's weemin an' weemin," he
announced meaningly. "I'm no more afraid of the ordinary