Ellen was not long in discovering the fact that Frank was rather a weak brother, but, in spite of this, she liked his evident admiration, and felt flattered that he had selected her above the other girls as the object of his attentions. She was known as “Hazy,” by the rest of the crowd, because Clyde had overheard Frank telling her that she should be called Hazel because of the color of her eyes. Clyde was a good-natured, practical lad, always joking, making puns, and telling absurd stories. There were sure to be laughter and nonsense where Clyde was, so he was always in demand. Innocent fun it was, and very good for Ellen, who had lived too much with older persons. Miss Rindy, fine as she was, nevertheless did not think she was doing her duty unless she kept her young charge constantly reminded of the necessity of being useful, and of these reminders Ellen wearied many a time. “I couldn’t help thinking of Cousin Rindy when they sang that hymn this morning,” she said to Jeremy as they were walking home from church one day. “What hymn?” asked he. “That one which says, ‘Direct, control, suggest this day all I design or do or say,’” Ellen told him. He smiled, then chuckled. “Rindy certainly does like to suggest, and isn’t over pleased when you don’t take her suggestions, but then she isn’t the only one who is built that way,” and Ellen knew he was thinking of his own wife, especially when he went on: “There are worse things than being bossed, and one can be thinking one’s own thought during the process of bossing. That is one thing that saves us, Ellen; nobody can control our thoughts.” And Ellen nodded understandingly. After all her lot was an easier one by far than was Jeremy Todd’s. The long summer days sped all too rapidly. Ellen learned to can, preserve, and pickle, to cultivate vegetables, to do many housewifely things. She sometimes grew impatient under her cousin’s constant suggestions. There was but one way to do a thing, in Miss Rindy’s opinion, and that was her way. But when the situation became too hard for Ellen she always found a refuge in Jeremy, to whom she would unburden herself, and from whom she always received comfort. “It would do you good to get away for a little while,” he said to her one day when Miss Rindy had been unusually sharp. “A change always clears the atmosphere. It is good for those who go and for those who stay behind. Are there none of your friends in the city with whom you would like to spend a few days?” “There are several to whom I should like to go, but I have not been invited, in the first place, and then I don’t feel that I should leave Cousin Rindy. Moreover, I’d need new clothes, and where would my railway ticket come from? Oh, no, I have no reason to complain, and I do not exactly; I am just spilling over a little. You are always so beautifully ready to understand, and you don’t go off and repeat what I say. You are a great refuge, Mr. Jeremy Todd.”