Mrs. Noah, the housekeeper at Aikenside, was slicing vegetable oysters

for the nice little dish intended for her own supper, when the head of

Sorrel came around the corner of the building, followed by the square-

boxed wagon containing Grandpa Markham, who, bewildered by the beauty

and spaciousness of the grounds, and wholly uncertain as to where he

ought to stop, had driven over the smooth-graveled road around to the

front kitchen door, Mrs. Noah's spacious domain, as sacred as Betsey

Trotwood's patch of green.

"In the name of wonder, what codger is that? and what is he doing

here?" was Mrs. Noah's exclamation, as she dropped the bit of salsify

she was scraping, and hurrying to the door, called out: "I say, you,

sir, what made you drive up here, when I've said over and over again,

that I wouldn't have wheels tearing up turf and gravel?"

"I--I beg your pardon. I lost my way, I guess, there was so many

turnin's, I'm sorry, but a little rain will fetch it right," grandpa

said, glancing ruefully at the ruts in the gravel and the marks on the

turf.

Mrs. Noah was not at heart an unkind woman, and something in the

benignant expression of grandpa's face, or in the apologetic tone of

his voice, mollified her somewhat, and without further comment she

stood waiting for his next remark. It was a most unfortunate one, for

though as free from weakness as most of her sex, Mrs. Noah was

terribly sensitive as to her age, and the same census-taker would

never venture twice within her precincts. Glancing at her dress, which

was this leisure afternoon much smarter than usual, grandpa concluded

she could not be a servant; and as she seemed to have a right to say

where he should drive and where he should not, the meek old man

concluded she was a near relation of Guy--mother, perhaps; but no,

Guy's mother was dead, as grandpa well knew, for all Devonshire had

heard of the young bride Agnes, who had married Guy's father for money

and rank. To have been mistaken for Guy's mother would not have

offended Mrs. Noah particularly; but how was she shocked when Grandpa

Markham said: "I come on business with Squire Guy. Are you his gran'marm?" "His

gran'marm!" and Mrs. Noah bit off the last syllable spitefully. "Bless

you, man, Squire Guy, as you call him, is twenty-five years old."

As Grandpa Markham was rather blind, he failed to see the point, but

knew that in some way he had given offense.




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