Mr. Wesley swayed to and fro on the keg, chuckling slowly. He could make allowances for a man's being a mite crotchetty with the rheumatiz. Besides, he had not got the information he sought. "Ever drive more than three?" he droned on. "Ever drive six hosses, Tucker?" John Tucker rose slowly and painfully, creaking in every joint. "I've drove six jackasses," he said. "I drove 'em out of this stable. S'pose you foller 'em, Orison, and see where they've got to by this time! I'm goin' home to supper." At the "Chantery," great excitement prevailed. The girls were all a-twitter, speculating on the probable age of the expected nobleman, his appearance--("He ought to be dark, of course, to contrast; and dark is so much more aristo----." "My _dear_! how absurd! every duke I ever _read_ of was pure Saxon, with blue or gray eyes and fair hair swept back from a marble--")--the the probable date of his advent. "My _dear_! he may be here to-morrow; just _think_! what _shall_ we say to him? Will he expect us to curtsey, do you suppose?" Thus Zephine, the least sensible of the girls. "Well, we won't!" said Nelly stoutly. Nelly was engaged to Joe Myers now, and was not afraid of all the Dukes in creation. "I'll tell you what, girls! Kitty is coming to supper to-night: I asked her this morning. Mother, you said there would be plenty, didn't you? We'll ask her right out. I'm sure we know her well enough!" "Ask what?" Mr. Chanter spoke abruptly, looking up from his _Congregationalist_. That was the most singular thing about Pa; you never could tell when he wouldn't hear, though generally you might discuss the most thrilling events in the (Cyrus) world without his taking the slightest notice. "Ask what?" repeated the Reverend Timothy. "Lor, Pa! how you startled us! Ask Kitty about this duke, or whatever he is, who is coming to see her. She is coming to supper to-night, and Nelly is going to ask her all about him, right straight out, and about the coach and six, and all." "Nelly will do nothing of the sort." Mr. Chanter spoke with calm decision. "Kitty knows her own affairs; if she has anything to tell us, she will; if not, it is none of our business." "Quite right!" nodded Mrs. Chanter over her basket. "Suppose we finish the stockings, girls! you will each want a whole pair to receive the Duke in, you know; perhaps Pa will read us a chapter of 'Pickwick' while we work." What was to be done with parents like these? "Wax nine times out of ten," whispered Zephine to Lina, "and the tenth time cast iron with a twinkle!"