It is almost needless to say that in the twenty years or more she had managed the property it had greatly increased in value, and at this time included outlying farms, village property, bank stock, mortgages, and sundry other investments. In regard to this she never thought of consulting her husband, and if he ever ventured on a suggestion as a rule passed it over without the slightest regard. The word “we” was one seldom heard from her lips. It was always “my horse,” “my cow”; she referred to the time when “I built my barn,” or “when I bought my farm,” with a complete ignoring of any partner in the firm matrimonial. Indeed, whatever the light in which she regarded Elnathan Hagood personally, for his ability and opinions she did not disguise her contempt, and any attempt to assert himself was quickly and vigorously suppressed; and the common opinion as to his condition was voiced by an old companion, “I tell you, she keeps his nose clus to the grindstun.” It was then not strange that for the most part he went about with the subdued and apologetic air of one aware of his own insignificance. Sometimes, for his kindly nature held an especially tender place for children, he attempted to expostulate in Posey’s behalf; but his mild, “Now, Almiry, I wouldn’t,” or “Almiry, you know children will be children,” made matters no better for Posey, and only brought a storm about his own head. Weakness held no part in Mrs. Hagood; “capable” was the term that truly fitted her; at the same time there was no more tenderness in her nature than in her well-polished cook-stove. A timid, sensitive child would have wilted, pined, and perhaps have died in her atmosphere; but Posey was not more sensitive than the average healthy, hungry child, and was even more than usually high-spirited and fearless. Her affections—meagerly as they had been fed—were warm, her impulses generous, and her nature one to whom love and kindness might have proved controlling forces where threats and violence failed. Such being the case, her life with Mrs. Hagood could hardly fail to intensify all her faults of temperament; the more so as the almost daily outraging of her sense of justice led to a feeling of resentment that from its frequency became well-nigh constant. There were also occasions when this rose to an especial high-water mark. One such was the event of a Sunday School picnic to a little lake distant some half-hour’s ride on the cars. An event that all the younger members of the school had looked forward to with eager anticipations, and Posey perhaps most of all, for a picnic was something she had never known. But when the time came Mrs. Hagood flatly refused her permission to attend.