“Dere folks. I hered from a pedlar my dad is sick up in norwich. goodby and thanks i am coming back sum day. yurs with luv. Joe.” Joe looked around at them with his old confident smile. “See?” he said. “I told you I was coming back.” “And you’re going to stay too,” replied Jean, thankfully. “I’m so glad you’re not under the snow, Joe. You’d better run down and get in that kindling for Shad.” This took real pluck, but Joe rose bravely, and went out, and Shad’s heart must have thawed a little too, for he came in later whistling and said the little skeezicks was doing well. Jean laughed and sank back in the big red rocker with happy weariness. “And Bab said this country was monotonous,” she exclaimed. “If anything else happens for a day or so, I’m going to find a woodchuck hole and crawl into it to rest up.” CHAPTER X COUSIN ROXY’S “SOCIAL” The night of the entertainment down at the Town Hall finally arrived. Doris said it was one of the specially nice things about Gilead, things really did happen if you just waited long enough. There was not room enough for all the family in the buggy or democrat with only one horse, so the Judge sent Ben down to drive Mrs. Gorham over and the two youngest. Shad took the rest with Princess. All along the road they met teams coming from various side roads, and the occupants sent out friendly hails as they passed. It was too dark to recognize faces, but Kit seemed to know the voices. “That’s Sally Peckham and her father,” she said. “And Billy’s on the back seat with the boys. I heard him laugh. There’s Abby Tucker and her father. I hope her shoes won’t pinch her the way they did at our lawn party last year. And Astrid and Ingeborg from the old Ames place on the hill. Hello, girls! And that last one is Mr. Ricketts and his family.” “Goodness, Kit,” Jean cried. “You’re getting to be just like Cousin Roxy on family history. I could never remember them all if I lived out here a thousand years.” “‘An I should live a thousand years, I ne’er should forget it,’” chanted Kit, gaily. “Oh, I do hope there’ll be music tonight. Cousin Roxy says she’s tried to hire some splendid old fellow, Cady Graves. Isn’t that a queer name for a fiddler? He’s very peculiar, she says, but he calls out wonderfully. He’s got his own burial plot all picked out and his tombstone erected with his name and date of birth on it, and all the decorations he likes best. Cousin Roxy says it’s square, and on one side he’s got his pet cow sculptured with the record of milk it gave, and on the other is his own face in bas relief.” “It’s original anyway,” said Jean. “I suppose there is a lot of satisfaction in fixing up your own last resting place the way you want it to be.”