Diana. Warner Susan

yes," said Mrs. Salter. "Do let us be as nice as we kin."

      "I think people had ought to make themselves as nice-lookin' as they can," echoed one of the younger ladies of the party; and there was a general chorus of agreeing voices.

      "Well!" said the minister; "then comes the question, what is nice-looking? I dare say the young lady with the flowing tresses thought she was about right."

      "She thought she was the only one," said Mrs. Boddington.

      A subject was started now which was fruitful enough to keep all tongues busy; and whether biscuits or opinions had the most lively circulation for some time thereafter it would be hard to say. Old and young, upon this matter of town and country fashions, and fashion in general, "gave tongue" in concert; proving that Pleasant Valley knew what was what as well as any place in the land; that it was doubtful what right Boston or New York had to dictate to it; at the same time the means of getting at the earliest the mind of Boston or New York was eagerly discussed, and the pretensions of Elmfield to any advantage in that matter as earnestly denied. The minister sat silent, with an imperturbable face that did him credit. At last there was a rush of demands upon him for his judgment. He declared that so much had been said upon the subject, he must have time to think it over; and he promised to give them some at least of his thoughts before long in a sermon.

      With this promise, highly satisfied, the assembly broke up. Mrs. Starling declared afterwards to her daughter, that if there had been any more fashions to talk about they would never have got done supper. But now bonnets were put on, and work put up, and one after another family party went off in its particular farm waggon or buggy. It was but just sundown; the golden glory of the sky was giving a mellow illumination to all the land, as one after another the horses were unhitched, the travellers mounted into their vehicles, and the wheels went softly rolling off over the smooth road. The minister stood by the gate, helping the ladies to untie and mount, giving pleasant words along with pleasant help, and receiving many expressions of pleasure in return.

      "Dear me, Mr. Masters!" said Miss Barry, the last one, "ain't you afraid you'll catch cold, standing there with no hat on?"

      "Cold always attacks the weakest part, Miss Barry. My head is safe."

      "Well, I declare!" said Miss Barry. "I never heerd that afore."

      And as she drove off in her little green waggon, the minister and Diana, who had come down to the gate to see the last one off, indulged in a harmless laugh. Then they both stood still by the fence a moment, resting; the hush was so sweet. The golden glory was fading; the last creak of Miss Barry's wheels was getting out of hearing; the air was perfumed with the scents which the dew called forth.

      "Isn't it delicious?" said the minister, leaning on the little gate, and pushing his hair back from his forehead.

      "The stillness is pleasant," said Diana.

      "Yet you must have enough of that?"

      "Yes – sometimes," said the girl. She was a little shy of speaking her thoughts to the minister; indeed, she was not accustomed to speak them to anybody, not knowing where they could meet entertainment. She wondered Mr. Masters did not go like the rest; however, it was pleasant enough to stand there talking to him.

      "What do you do for books here?" he went on.

      "O, I have all my father's books," said Diana. "My father was a minister, Mr. Masters; and when he died his books came to me."

      "A theological library!" said Mr. Masters.

      "Yes. I suppose you would call it so."

      "Have you it here?"

      "Yes. I have it in my room up-stairs. All one end of the room full."

      "Do you read these books?"

      "Yes. They are all I have to read. I have not read the whole of them."

      "No, I suppose not. Do you not find this reading rather heavy?"

      "I don't know. Some of the books are rather heavy; I do not read those much."

      "You must let me look at your library some day, Miss Diana. It would be certain to have charms for me; and I'll exchange with you. Perhaps I have books that you would not find heavy."

      Diana's full grey eyes turned on the minister with a gleam of gratitude and pleasure. Her words were not needed to say that she would like that kind of barter.

      "So your father was a clergyman?" Mr. Masters went on.

      "Yes. Not here, though. That was when I was quite little. We lived a good way from here; and I remember very well a great many things about all that time, till father died, and then mother came back here."

      "Came back, – then your mother is at home in Pleasant Valley?"

      "O, we're both at home here – I was so little when we came; but mother's father lived where Nick Boddington does, and owned all this valley – I don't mean Pleasant Valley, but all this hollow; a good large farm it was; and when he died he left mother a nice piece of it, with this old house."

      "Mr. Boddington, – is he then a relation of yours?"

      "No, not exactly; he's the son of grandpa's second wife; we're really no relations, but we call each other cousin. Grandpa left the most of his land to his wife; but mother's got enough to manage, and nice land."

      "It's a beautiful place!" said the minister. "There is a waggon coming; I wonder if any of our friends have forgotten something? That is – yes, that is farmer Babbage's team; isn't it? What is the matter?"

      For something unusual in the arrangements of the vehicle, or the occupants of it, was dimly yet surely to be discerned through the distance and the light, which was now turning brown rather than grey. Nothing could be seen clearly, and yet it came as no waggon load had gone from that door that evening. The minister took his hand from the gate, and Diana stepped forward, as the horses stopped in front of the lean-to; and a voice called out:

      "Who's there to help? Hollo! Lend a hand."

      The minister sprang down the road, followed by Diana. "What do you want help for?" he asked.

      "There's been an accident – Jim Delamater's waggon – we found it overturned in the road; and here's Eliza, she hasn't spoke since. Have you got no more help?"

      "Where's Jim?" asked Mrs. Starling, coming herself from the lean-to.

      "Staid with his team; about all he was up to. Now then, – can we get her in? Where's Josiah?"

      But no more masculine help could be mustered than what was already on hand. Brains, however, can do much to supplement muscular force. The minister had a settee out from the house in two minutes and by the side of the waggon; with management and care, though with much difficulty, the unconscious girl was lifted down and laid on the settee; and by the aid of the women carried straight into the lean-to, the door of which was the nearest. There, by the same energetic ordering, well seconded by Diana, a mattress was brought and laid on the long table, which Mrs. Starling's diligence had already cleared since supper; and there they placed the girl, who was perfectly helpless and motionless in their hands.

      "There is life yet," said the minister, after an examination during which every one stood breathless around. "Loose everything she has on, Miss Diana; and let us have some hartshorn, Mrs. Starling, if you have got any. Well, brandy, then, and cold water; and I'll go for the doctor."

      But Mr. Babbage represented that he must himself 'go on hum,' and would pass by the doctor's door; so if the minister would stay and help the women folks, it would be more advisable. Accordingly the farmer's waggon wheels were soon heard departing, and the little group in the lean-to kitchen were left alone. Too busy at first to think of it, they were trying eagerly every restorative and stimulant they could think of and command; but with little effect. A little, they thought; but consciousness had not returned to the injured girl, when they had done all they knew how to do, and tried everything within their reach. Hope began to fade towards despair; still they kept on with the use of their remedies. Mrs. Starling went and came between the room where they were and the stove, which stood in some outside shed, fetching bottles of hot water; I think, between whiles, she was washing up