And Mrs. Bartlett had no answer. Having a woman's doubtful gift of

intuition, she was afraid that the wedding would never take place, and

also having a woman's tact she never annoyed her husband by saying so.

Kate, who had been in Boston for two months, was coming home about the

middle of July, and a little flutter of preparation went all over the

farm.

Dave had said at breakfast that he regretted not being able to go to

Wakefield to meet Kate, but that he would be busy in the north field all

day. Hi Holler, the Bartlett chore boy, had been commissioned to go in

his stead, and Hi's toilet, in consequence, had occupied most of the

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morning.

Mrs. Bartlett was churning in the shadow of the wide porch, the Squire

was mending a horse collar with wax thread, and fussing about the heat

and the slowness of Hi Holler, who was always punctually fifteen minutes

late for everything.

"Confound it, Looizy, what's keeping that boy; the train'll get in before

he's started. Here you, Hi, what's keeping you?"

The delinquent stood in the doorway, his broad face rippling with smiles;

he had spent time on his toilet, but he felt that the result justified it.

His high collar had already begun to succumb to the day, and the labor

involved in greasing his boots, which were much in evidence, owing to the

brevity of the white duck trousers that needed but one or two more

washings, with the accompanying process of shrinking, to convert them

into knickerbockers. Bear's grease had turned his ordinary curling brown

hair into a damp, shining mass that dripped in tiny rills, from time to

time, down on his coat collar, but Hi was happy. Beau Brummel, at the

height of his sartorial fame, never achieved a more self-satisfying

toilet.

The Squire adjusted his spectacles. "What are you dressing up like that

on a week day for, Hi? Off with you now; and if you ain't in time for

them cars you'll catch 'Hail Columbia' when you get back."

"Looizy," said the Squire, as soon as Hi was out of hearing, "why didn't

Dave go after Katie? Yes, I know about the hay. Hay is hay, but it

ought not to come first in a man's affections."

"You'd better let 'em alone, Amasy; if they're going to marry they will

without any help from us; love affairs don't seem to prosper much, when

old folks interfere."

"Looizy, it's my opinion that Dave's too shy to make up to women folks.

I don't think he'll even get up the courage to ask Kate to marry him."




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