The cat, without having subjected herself to those trials which some of us endured, had discovered, with true feline instinct, wherein the deepest rest lay, and had established herself on a suspended bridge of chintz between two overhanging systems. There were a few chairs in the room besides, but the doorsteps were wide. Grandpa sat always in the south door, Grandma on the steps looking towards the lane, and it was at this latter inviting spot that the neighbors, the "passers by," paused most frequently and disposed themselves, with a grateful air. I listened to their talk, while the birds struggled to make noisy interruptions and cast their fleeting shadows in the sunlight on the floor, and the peach-blossoms outside were falling noiselessly. Grandma Keeler had been telling me in a happy, droning voice, though gravely enough, of the "awakenin'" that was going on in Wallencamp--how "a good many o' the young folks was impressed," and "Cap'n Sartell had been seekin', ever since little Bessie died, and some that had seemed to be forgitful and backslidin' had come forward and told where they stood, until it seemed as though the Lord was a sendin' a blessin' down, jest as soft and beautiful as them blossoms;" and Grandma's eyes wandered towards the peach-tree with a tearful fervor in them. Aunt Patty was a temporary occupant of the steps. Her anxious, care-lined face was turned indoors, away from the light and the falling blossoms. There was an anxious, restless ring in her voice, too. "I'm glad to hev such a time, I'm sure," said she. "We need it bad enough, any time, Lord knows!--but it seems a queer season o' the year for't. When we've had 'em before it's generally been along in the winter. I never heered of an awakenin' before right in the midst o' tater-buggin'." Aunt Patty was not intentionally irreverent. Life, with her, had been so narrow and hard pressed, always a painful reckoning of times and seasons. The allusion to "tater-buggin'" gave Grandpa an opportunity of a sort of which he had not been slow to avail himself lately--to engage in a little old-time, secular conversation. His voice, however, as it sounded from the south doorway, was impressive enough for any subject. "Grists on 'em, this year!" he said.