ngs just get duller and duller, the more
familiar they are. I don't begin to have time in my life for the living
I want to do, my own self! I can't let my grandmothers and grandfathers
come shoving in for another whirl at it. They've had their turn. And my
turn isn't a minute too long for me. Your notion looks to me . . . lots of
old accepted notions look like that to me . . . like a good big dose of
soothing syrup to get people safely past the time in their existences
when they might do some sure-enough personal living on their own hook."
He paused and added in a meditative murmur, "That time is so damn short
as it is!"

He turned hastily to the old lady with an apology. "Why, I _beg_ your
pardon! I didn't realize I had gone on talking aloud. I was just
thinking along to myself. You see, your soothing syrup is working on me,
the garden, the sun, the stillness, all the grandmothers and
grandfathers sitting around. I am almost half asleep."

"I'm an old maid, I know," said Cousin Hetty piquantly. "But I'm not a
proper Massachusetts old maid. I'm Vermont, and a swear-word or two
don't scare me. I was brought up on first-hand stories of Ethan Allen's
talk, and . . ."

Marise broke in hastily, in mock alarm, "Now, Cousin Hetty, don't you
start in on the story of Ethan Allen and the cowshed that was too short.
I won't have our city visitors scandalized by our lack of . . ."

Cousin Hetty's laughter cut her short, as merry and young a sound as the
voice of the brook. "I hadn't thought of that story in years!" she said.
She and Marise laughed together, looking at each other. But they said
nothing else.

"Aren't you going to _tell_ us?" asked Mr. Welles with a genuine
aggrieved surprise which tickled Cousin Hetty into more laughter.

"I shall not rest day or night, till I have found someone who knows that
story," said Marsh, adding, "Old Mrs. Powers must know it. And _she_
will love to tell it to me. It is evidently the sort of story which is
her great specialty."

They all laughed, foolishly, light-heartedly.

Marise consciously delighted in the laughter, in the silly, light tone
of their talk, in the feeling of confidence and security which bathed
her as warmly as the new wine of the spring sunshine. She thought
passingly, swiftly, with her habitual, satiric wonder at her own
fancifulness, of her earlier notions about steel blades and passes and
parries, and being afraid to walk down the hall with her "opponent" back