gards to your mother. John. Come, Solon!"
But Solon merely cocked one ear, and remained a fixed fact; for long
experience had induced the philosophic beast to take for his motto the
Yankee maxim, "Be sure you're right, then go ahead! He knew things were
not right; therefore he did not go ahead.
"Oh, by the way, girls, don't forget to pay Tommy Mullein for bringing
up the cow: he expects it to-night. And Di, don't sit up till
daylight, nor let Laura stay out in the dew. Now, I believe I'm off.
Come, Solon!"
But Solon only cocked the other ear, gently agitated his mortified
tail, as premonitory symptoms of departure, and never stirred a hoof,
being well aware that it always took three "comes" to make a "go."
"Bless me! I've forgotten my spectacles. They are probably shut up in
that volume of Herbert on my table. Very awkward to find myself
without them ten miles away. Thank you, John. Don't neglect to water
the lettuce, Nan, and don't overwork yourself, my little 'Martha.'
Come--"
At this juncture Solon suddenly went off, like "Mrs. Gamp," in a sort
of walking swoon, apparently deaf and blind to all mundane matters,
except the refreshments awaiting him ten miles away; and the benign old
pastor disappeared, humming "Hebron" to the creaking accompaniment of
the bulgy chaise.
Laura retired to take her siesta; Nan made a small carbonaro of herself
by sharpening her sister's crayons, and Di, as a sort of penance for
past sins, tried her patience over a piece of knitting, in which she
soon originated a somewhat remarkable pattern, by dropping every third
stitch, and seaming ad libitum. If John bad been a gentlemanly
creature, with refined tastes, he would have elevated his feet and made
a nuisance of himself by indulging in a "weed;" but being only an
uncultivated youth, with a rustic regard for pure air and womankind in
general, he kept his head uppermost, and talked like a man, instead of
smoking like a chimney.
"It will probably be six months before I sit here again, tangling your
threads and maltreating your needles, Nan. How glad you must feel to
hear it!" he said, looking up from a thoughtful examination of the
hard-working little citizens of the Industrial Community settled in
Nan's work-basket.
"No, I'm very sorry; for I like to see you coming and going as you used
to, years ago, and I miss you very much when you are gone, John,"
answered truthful Nan, whittling away in a sadly wasteful manner,
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