or the orphant's eyes.
D'ye think it would, Harriet?" he inquired, wistfully.

"Tuts!" she cried, disdainfully, "not a bit. Davy, there, was brought
up on smoke. You go and get that pipe and put it in your pocket."

Mr. Sawyer started hopefully for the kitchen door. Davy Munn might not
be exactly a bright and shining example to set for the bringing up of
the orphan, but at least he looked healthy, and Jake was even more than
usually helpless when bereft of his pipe. He paused on the way indoors
to make one more despairing appeal to the power above. "Hannah!
Aren't you 'most ready?"

Hannah's face, round and red, like the full moon, appeared for an
instant from its cloudy curtain. "Harriet! Harriet Munn!" she called,
"and you, Arabella, could you run up here a minit an' pin on these blue
cuffs o' mine? An' I can't find my Sunday gloves, high nor low, nor
my----"

The rest was lost in the curtains, but the two friends had already
disappeared inside, and were charging up the stairs. Mrs. Winters, who
was emerging from the kitchen door with the bottle of milk, turned and
darted after them. "She ain't goin' to put them blue cuffs on that
black dress!" she screamed.

"Ella Anne," whispered Jake, sidling up to the young lady with the high
pompadour, "could you take a look 'round, and see if you can find my
pipe? I can't seem to think where I've laid it."

Miss Long strolled around the kitchen, casting an absent eye here and
there.

"Davy!" called a sharp voice from the upstairs window. "Davy Munn!
Don't you dast to forget to call when the train hoots for Cameron's
Crossing!"

The only calm person on the premises glanced up with half-closed eyes.
"Hoh!" he ejaculated, planting his feet upon the dashboard and
expectorating disdainfully in the direction of Rebekah's head,
"Gabriel's trump'll hoot 'fore this shootin' match goes off! Gosh
blame, if here ain't another one!"

A tall woman was coming up the lane. She was a stately, severe person,
with iron-gray hair and a stern gray eye, behind which a kindly twinkle
hid itself carefully from view. She had a commanding way, which,
combined with the fact that she had taught the Elmbrook school for
twenty years, and was the only woman in the village who neither feared
Mrs. Winters nor regarded Granny Long's telescope, had earned her the
title of the Duke of Wellington.

"Are you not away yet, David?" she demanded; and the boy sat up as
though he had received