From the first Uncle Joseph had taken to Jessie, calling her Sarah for

a while, and then changing the name to "Daisy"--"Daisy Mortimer, his

little girl," he persisted in calling her, watching from his window

for her coming, and crying whenever Maddy appeared without her. At

first Agnes, from her city home, forbade Jessie's going so often to

see a lunatic; but when Jessie described the poor, crazy man's delight

at sight of her, telling how quiet and happy he seemed if he could but

lay his hand on her head, or touch her hair, she withdrew her

restrictions, and, as if moved to an unwonted burst of tenderness,

wrote to her daughter: "Comfort that crazy man all you can; he needs

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it so much."

A few weeks after there came another letter from Agnes, but this time

it was to Guy, and its contents darkened his handsome face with anger

and vexation. Incidentally Agnes had heard the gossip, and written it

to Guy, adding in conclusion: "Of course I know it is not true, for

ever if there were no Lucy Atherstone, you, of all men, would not

stoop to Maddy Clyde. I do not presume to advise, but I will say this,

that now she is growing a young lady, folks will keep on talking so

long as you keep her there in the house; and it's hardly fair toward

Lucy."

This was what knotted up Guy's forehead and made him, as Jessie said,

"real cross for once." Somehow, he fancied, latterly, that the doctor

did not like Maddy's being there, while even Mrs. Noah managed to keep

her out of his way as soon as the lessons were ended. What did they

mean? what were they afraid of, and why did they presume to interfere

with him? he'd know, at all events; and summoning Mrs. Noah to his

presence, he read that part of Agnes' letter, pertaining to Maddy, and

then asked what it meant.

"It means this, that folks are in a constant worry, for fear you'll

fall in love with Maddy Clyde."

"I fall in love with that child!" Guy repeated, laughing at the idea,

and forgetting that he had long since, accused the doctor of doing

that very thing.

"Yes, you," returned Mrs. Noah, "and 'taint strange they do; Maddy is

not a child: she's nearer sixteen than fifteen, is almost a young

lady; and if you'll excuse my boldness, I must say, I ain't any too

well pleased with the goin's on myself; not that I don't like the

girl, for I do, and I don't blame her an atom. She's as innocent as a

new-born babe, and I hope she'll always stay so; but you, Mr. Guy,

you--now tell me honest--do you think as much of Lucy Atherstone, as

you used to, before you took up school-keepin'?"