Autumn

ow it belonged to the widow of Eben's son, John. Mr. Jeminy remembered John Wicket as a boy in school. He was a rogue; his head was already so full of mischief, that i

ght do a great deal of harm in the world. So perhaps it is just as wel

ther kept in a stone jug in the kitchen. Old Mr. Wicket refused to send after him.

plague him, he began to feel proud of him. "An out and

ws of him again. His son, who had been living all this time in a nearby village,

be a small, plain body, with an air of fright about her, as though life had surprised her. Out of respect for Eben, as they put it, the gossips went to call

in her place," s

y. So she was left to herself, which seemed, on the face of it, to be about what she wanted. She tended Eben's house, drove

uld have called her child Mary instead of Juliet. "It's not a proper name," she said to Mrs. Tomkins.

ompany with her, the gossips were all aflitter. It was June; the regulars were on their way to France; and what with the war, and Mrs. Wicket, the village had plenty to talk about. Old Mrs. Ploughman said nothing, but regarded her friends with a gloomy and thoughtful air. On

charming. They talked over the weather together, and discussed the crops. Love comes slowly in the north; there is time for every one to take a hand in it. August passed without either having mentioned what was in their hearts. Then Mrs. Ploughman made up her mind to put an end to it. One day, when Noel was in Milford, she came to c

out," said Miss Beal. "

e, "she'd behave herself a spe

for Noel Ploughman. For it seemed to the gossips that Mrs. Wicket's life was, by rights, no longe

nd the sympathy of Mrs. Barly with equal satisfaction. It seemed to her that she had done her duty as she saw it. But when Noel was

she had been waiting for it. . . . After a while, she began to sing again. Her voice, as she crooned to Juliet, was musical, but quavery. It provoked the good wom

ad the misfortune to marry a thief, and he forgave her for wanting to be happy, because it did not seem to him that to h

d to Mrs. Grumble. "She has had

ied Mrs. Grumble with a toss of her head a

who had no other callers, felt that one friend was enough when he talked as much as Mr. Jeminy. While he laid open before her the great books of the past, illuminating thei

happened that Thomas Frye also came home from Milford, by the same stage. That was what Mrs. Grumble was waiting for. "Now she's at it again," said Mrs. Grumble. "She's bound to

d with herself, and r

illage. There, it would occur to him to call on Mrs. Wicket, because he happened to have with him a book he thought she would like to look at, or a flower for Juliet. Mrs. Wicket received each book with gratitude, and looked to see if there were any pictures

ected him to be accurate, it was only necessary to use his imagination. But Juliet, swinging her legs on top of the feed bin, regarded him with round

said, "is my doll's

ans, using his hammer as a pointer. "Here is the bedroom," he said,

t interest. It was apparen

e parlor?"

arlor?" asked Mr.

iet. "I have to have a place

a or Margaret. It seemed to Juliet that to be without a parlor was to lack elegance. Mr. J

isn't," s

no reply, she added, "S

g age. I wish I were able to see the world again through the eyes of six,

uliet, "we have

ould not sit s

way to fly." She began to dance about, waving her arms. "This," she declar

made of rags and sawdust, on top of the bin, she stood before them

r clothes, every which way. Margaret, do sit up. And Sara-you'll

she added, addressing a three-legge

her we're having.

"I declare, it's time you went to school, children,

ly against the wall, she took her stand directly in front of them. "Do you know yo

ret, what's the be

ot know what cow was best for butter. "This child," he thought, "who cannot tell me why it is necessary to take tw

with dust and cobwebs. And Mr. Jeminy, watching the dust dancing in the sun, thought to himself: "I should like to stay here; it is peaceful and friendly.

story," she said. "Tell me about the war,

e other day I will tell you about the great wars of old, fought for no other reason than glory and empire, whi

nted pasturage for her cow. The sun was sinking above the trees; and they heard, abo

ashing faintly as they moved. "Go 'long," cried Juliet, switching her little rod, to singl

clear, fading light. "How good he is," she thought. And she turn

asket, a green and yellow basket . . ." And she chanted, to a tun

was a y

bright a

be a g

I was

was a y

t was l

he merry

men

was a y

s young a

I broke

irl's

blowing on his face, with its sweet odors, the twilight notes of birds among the leaves, the faint acclaim of bells, and Juliet's childish singing, filled

what are

to the sky, in which the first

sy now," he s