Of course, she had her disappointments; the clam-man's daughter did, on one occasion, marry the scallop-man's son, against her advice--but they came to such speedy grief, that it more than consoled her. The miller's wife was not willing, last Spring, to listen to reason about her butter, and so had lost all market for it among the people who paid high prices, and had to carry it, finally, to the "store," and take what she could get for it. Missy lost the butter, but she had the satisfaction of knowing, that the next year her advice would be promptly taken. All these things were sweet to her, but how much sweeter it was to be feeling that she was managing completely a household in which she had no legitimate business to interfere; that she was putting to rout a troop of worthless servants who had opposed her, and ill-treated her darling Jay. Above all, that she was making a very weak-kneed master stand firm. Oh, if she could be sure that he _would_ stand firm! It was this doubt, that made her feel as if it were all genteel comedy, and really quite exciting. The children were pretty good that morning, notwithstanding the orgies of the night before. Gabrielle was subdued and a little ashamed, and Jay's memory was not burdened with any remorse, nor had he missed his sleep, nor omitted to make a very good breakfast in his new quarters. He was burly and jolly and good as ever. He liked the drive, and the stops, and the fresh cool breeze, and the bright September sunshine, and the holding the whip in his hand. The roadside was bright with golden-rod and purple asters, the Virginia creeper was turning red on the fences and over the trees where it had flung itself; catbrier, shining and glossy, cedar dark and dusky, sumach red and brown, all in mat and tangle of the luxuriant summer's growth, clothed the banks that edged the road. Jay stretched out his hand to catch the bright leaves when they passed near them; the bottom of the carriage was filled with branches of red leaves, with bunches of Michaelmas daisies and asters already withering in the sun. Missy looked at her watch; it was just noon. Her heart beat high. They were on the road that led to the station. If the servants were sent off by the midday train, they must meet them in the course of a few moments. She now began to doubt whether it had not all fallen through. It was impossible to say how she despised Mr. Andrews when she thought it might be that he had given in. Every rod of road they passed over added to this conviction. She looked at her watch again. If they did not meet them within five minutes there was no further hope. "What's the matter, Missy; why do you pull the pony so?" said Jay, looking up into her face. They were going down a hill, where the road was narrow, deep and sandy. At this moment they heard the lumbering, and caught sight of a heavy vehicle coming up the hill towards them.