ailed to elicit from her anything
satisfactory.

At any rate, it was certain that Crewne was absent from Hardhack, and it
was evident that _he_ had decided who was to be the lady of the cottage,
so the season of festivity was brought to an abrupt close, and the
digestions of Hardhack were snatched from ruin.

From kitchen-windows were now wafted odors of boiled corned beef and
stewed apples, instead of the fragrance of delicate preserves and
delicious turkey.

Young ladies, when they met in the street, greeted each, other with a
shade less of cordiality than usual, and fathers and mothers in Israel
cast into each other's eyes searching and suspicious glances.

One afternoon, when the pious matrons of Hardhack were gathering at the
pastor's residence to take part in the regular weekly mothers'
prayer-meeting, the mail-coach rolled into town, and Mrs. Leekins, who
was sitting by the window, as she always did, exclaimed:

"He's come back--there he is--on the seat with the driver!"

Every one hurried to the window, and saw that Mrs. Leekins had spoken
truly, for there sat Crewne with a pleasant smile on his face, while on
top of the stage were several large trunks marked C.

[Illustration: THE SISTERS HASTENED TO THE WINDOW.]

"Must have got a handsome fit-out," suggested Mrs. Leekins.

The stage stopped at the door of Crewne's new cottage, and Crewne got
out. The pastor entered the parlor to open the meeting, and was
selecting a hymn, when Mrs. Leekins startled the meeting by ejaculating:

"Lands alive!"

The meeting was demoralized; the sisters hastened to the window, and the
good pastor, laying down his hymn-book, followed in time to see Crewne
helping out a well-dressed and apparently young and handsome lady.

"Hardhack girls not good 'nough for him, it seems!" sneered Mrs.
Leekins.

A resigned and sympathetic sigh broke from the motherly lips present,
then Mrs. Leekins cried:

"Gracious sakes! married a widder with children!"

It certainly seemed that she told the truth, for Crewne lifted out
two children, the youngest of whom seemed not more than three years old.

The gazers abruptly left the window, and the general tone of the meeting
was that of melancholy resignation.

* * * * *

"Why didn't he ever say he was a married man?" asked the prospective
Mrs. Faxton, of her lover, that evening.

"Partly because he is too much of a gentleman to talk of his own
affairs,