Say and Seal, Volume I. Warner Susan

is the cold tongue by you, Jerushy.—I hope you like Pattaquasset."

      "Ask Mr Linden whether Pattaquasset ain't a good place for handsome gals," said Mr. Simlins, as he handed over the piece of cherry-pie. "He knows by this time. I say there's a con-catenation of beauty now here this afternoon. If you look from the top to the bottom of the table, now, ain't it true, sir?"

      Mr. Linden certainly looked from the top to the bottom of the table, and then setting the plate of cherry-pie as far from his clams as he could, he said,

      "Miss Deacon—let me help you,—tell me where these cups belong, and I will convey them to their destination."

      "I thought they'd shove down somehow," said the young lady. "Jerushy, do pass the coffee! They're for anybody down there who'll take coffee. Tea'll be along presently," added Miss Cecilia, raising her voice a little to give the information. "Don't you trouble yourself, Mr. Linden."

      But Mr. Linden secured one, and carrying it down to Faith, requested her to stir it and taste it, and not give him the trouble of coming back with the sugar-bowl.

      "What will you have?" he said while she obeyed his directions. "Here are all the pies that can be thought of except the musical one recorded in history."

      "And so," said Faith with a laughing flash of her usually soft eye, "you immediately give me a desire for the one not here! It's like you, Mr. Linden. No, thank you—I'll have none of these. I believe Reuben has a desire for some of the clams he and I have roasted."

      "I'm afraid I cannot get them away from Squire Deacon!" he said, "butI'll try."

      The Squire however held fast to the dish, and rising from his place midway at the table, insisted upon taking it to Faith himself.

      "Miss Faith," he said, "you have ruined my supper by sitting down here. My appetite has quite forsaken me," (whereupon Jem Williams observed, "that warn't strange.")—"and the worst is," added the Squire, "I can't maintain the constant supervision of your plate which my feelings prompt. I am too far off"—he concluded in a melancholy tone.

      "I say, Squire!" said Jem Williams, "you bain't mor'n as far agin as he"—with a nod towards the upper end of the table.

      Squire Deacon lowered, but for the present his feelings were restrained.

      "Mr. Simlins," said Endecott, when he had resumed his seat, "I ask you—as one who knows the country—whereabouts does the concatenation you spoke of reach a climax?"

      "The star you look at is always the brightest," said the farmer. "However, I think the clams is the best thing at table—or near the best," with a slight glance towards Squire Deacon and the dish at the 'well end.'"I've a legendary attachment to beauty, sir; my father married the three prettiest wives in the country."

      "I say, Squire," said Jem Williams, "Mr. Simlins says you'r' hot."

      "Hot?" said Squire Deacon, flushing up very much, and setting down the clams,—"that dish is. I'm as cool as all these cucumbers accumulated into a heap."

      "Hope you'll stay where you are, then," said Mr. Simlins. "I'm cool too. Don't come near me, or we shall be in a state of concentration."

      Mr. Linden remarked that that was an excellent point when reached.

      "What point?" said Squire Deacon, who had returned to his seat with the strong impression that everybody was laughing at him, under the special guidance of the new teacher. "You know mighty little of the points round here, I tell you."

      "The point of concentration is found in various places, sir," said Mr.Linden: "though I grant you it is rare."

      "What do you know about Pattaquasset points?" repeated the Squire,—"orPattaquasset people—or Pattaquasset water either, for that matter?Just you go down here when the tide's in—and afore you know where youare you'll find yourself wading round over your head."

      "No sir—never," said Mr. Linden with great assurance.

      "Why not? how're you goin' to help it?" said Squire Deacon.

      "When I reach that point," said Mr. Linden, "I shall swim."

      And Faith heard Reuben Taylor's smothered laugh of great gratification.

      "Hope you haven't spoiled your own supper, Squire," said Mr. Simlins, "by your complacency in carrying about them hot clams. Have somethin' this way?"

      While this question was getting its answer, Faith sat back in her chair and looked up and down the length of the table. It presented a distinguished 'after-supper' view, but the demands of the company had not yet ceased. Mr. Simlins was still discussing cheese and politics; Jem Williams was deep in cherry pie; plum cake was not out of favour with the ladies. The Squire was hard at work at his supper, which had been diversely and wickedly interrupted. He was making up for lost time now; while his sister, much disengaged, was bending her questions and smiles on Mr. Linden. Faith tried to see Mr. Linden, but she couldn't; he was leaning back from the table; and her eyes went out of doors. It was too fair and sweet there to be cooped up from it. The sun had just set. Faith could not see the water; the windows of the eating house looked landward; but the air which came in at them said where it had come from, and breathed the salt freshness of the sea into her face.

      But presently every chair was pushed back. And now there was no more silence nor quiet The busy swarm poured out of the supper room; the men to lounge or tackle their horses, the women to gather up the bathing dresses from the fence, to look round, laugh, and go in again to pack up the dishes. It would seem that this last might be a work of time, each had to find her own through such a maze of confusion. There was a spoon of Miss Cecilia's providing, in a cup of Mrs. Derrick's, beside a plate of Mrs. David's, and before a half-eaten cherry pie which had been compounded in the distant home and by the fair fingers of Miss Jerusha Fax. However, most people know their own at least; and as on the present occasion nobody had any particular desire to meddle with what was not her own, the difficulty was got through with. The baskets and hampers were packed again and stowed in their respective wagons; and everybody was bidding good bye to everybody. Noisy thanks and praises fell liberally to the share of Miss Cecilia and her brother, and the afternoon was declared to have been "splendid."

      CHAPTER V

      For some weeks the little town of Pattaquasset held on its peaceful way as usual. Early summer passed into harvest, and harvest gave way to the first blush of autumn, and still the Mong flowed quietly along, and the kildeers sang fearlessly. For even tenor and happy spirits, the new teacher and his scholars were not unlike the smooth river and its feathered visiters. Whatever the boys were taught, they certainly learned to be happy; and Mr. Linden's popularity knew no bounds in his own domain. Neither did it end there: those fair members of the Pattaquasset society who thought early walks good for their health, felt their sleepy eyes well paid for keeping open when they met Mr. Linden. Those who were fond of evening expeditions, declared that his figure in the twilight was 'quite a picture,' and made them feel 'so safe,'—a great slander, by the way, on Pattaquasset. Mr. Simlins was his firm friend, and many another—known and unknown. Squire Deacon, I regret to say, was an exception.

      Squire Deacon declared (confidentially) that he never had thought the new teacher fit for his business, no how. As far as he could hear, Mr. Linden had never taught school before, and in that case what could you expect? "Moreover," said the Squire, "I am creditably informed, that the first day he kep' school here, he begun by asking the boys who made them!—as if that had anything to do with geography. Of course it's nat'ral for a man to ask what he knows he can answer if the boys don't," added Squire Deacon in the way of kind explanation.

      Whereupon, Jonathan Fax, the Squire's right hand man, requested to be informed, "why ef a man was poor didn't he dress as though he felt so,—and why ef he warn't rich did he act as though he war?" And thus by degrees, there was quite an opposition party in Pattaquasset—if that could be opposition which the object of it never opposed. By degrees too, the murmurs became more audible.

      "Faith, child," said Mrs. Derrick in a cautions whisper, coining out where Faith sat on the porch, bathed in the late September light: "Faith, child, where's our Linden tree?" (Mrs. Derrick thought she had