"I declare for't!" she said, "that's Poketown itself! That's the spire of the Union Church you see. We'll git there in an hour." Janice did not sit down again just then, nor did she reply. She rested both trimly-gloved hands on the rail and gazed upon the scene. "Why, it's beautiful!" she breathed at last. "And _that_ is Poketown!" CHAPTER II POKE-TOWN Some ancient dwellings have the dignity of "homestead" resting upon them like a benediction; others are aureoled by the name of "manor." The original Day in Poketown had built a shingled, gable-ended cottage upon the side-hill which had now, for numberless years, been called "the old Day house"--nothing more. "Jason! You Jase! I'd give a cent if you'd mend this pump," complained Mrs. Almira Day. "Go git me a pail of water from Mis' Dickerson's and ask how's her rheumatism this mawnin'. Come on, now! I can't wash the breakfas' dishes till I hev some water." The grizzled, lanky man who had been sitting comfortably on a bench in the sun, sucking on a corncob pipe and gazing off across the lake, never even turned his head as he asked: "Where's Marty?" "The goodness only knows! Ye know he ain't never here when ye want him." "Why didn't ye tell him about the water at breakfas' time?" "Would _that_ have done any good?" demanded Mrs. Day, with some scorn. "Ye know Marty's got too big to take orders from his marm. He don't do nothin' but hang about Josiah Pringle's harness shop all day." "I told him to hoe them 'taters," said Mr. Day, thoughtfully. "Well, he don't seem ter take orders from his dad, neither. Don't know what that boy's comin' to," and a whine crept into Mrs. Day's voice. "He can't git along with 'Rill Scattergood, so he won't go to school. His fingers is gettin' all stained yaller from suthin'--d'you 'xpect it's them cigarettes, Jase?" Her husband was rising slowly to his feet. "Gimme the pail," he grunted, without replying to her last question. "I'll git the water for ye this onc't. But that's Marty's job an' he's got to l'arn it, too!" "Here, Jase! take two pails," urged Mrs. Day. "An' I wish you _would_ git Pringle to cut ye a new pump-leather." But Mr. Day ignored the second pail. "I don't feel right peart to-day," he said, shambling off down the path. "And there's a deal of heft to a pail of water--uphill, too. An' by-me-by I got ter go down to the dock, I s'pose, when the boat comes in, to meet Broxton's gal. I 'xpect _she'll_ be a great nuisance, 'Mira." "I'll stand her bein' some nuisance if you give me the twenty dollars a month your brother wrote that he'd send for her board and keep," snapped Mrs. Day. "You understand, Jase. That money's comin' to _me_, or I don't scrub and slave for no relation of yourn. Remember that!" Jason shuffled on as though he had not heard her. That was the most exasperating trait of this lazy man--so his wife thought; he was too lazy to quarrel.