"I know it's shameful. But I only tell the man these facts to open his eyes and show him how much better Johnny be than his father." "May he never have nothing to cuss about," hoped Lawrence. "I don't see how he ever can, when he's got Dinah." "Yes--when," said Jane Bamsey. "He's got to wait Dinah's pleasure till the stroke of Doom seemingly." Maynard had been admiring the younger girl. But he noticed that her beauty was clouded by discontent. There chimed also a note in her voice that carried with it slight, indefinite protest. His own voice embraced the identical note; but he was not aware of that. "No politics, Jane," said Mrs. Bamsey. "You never did ought to strike into family affairs before a stranger." "Mr. Maynard's not a stranger," argued Jane. "We're heard tell lots about him from Johnny, and Dinah too." "That's right," said Lawrence. Benjamin Bamsey nursed an old Skye terrier and scratched its back with a bunch of keys--a process the animal loved. He talked of dogs and cattle awhile; then they all went to tea. Faith Bamsey asked after Susan. "She's quite recovered, ma'am. She was in a mind to come over herself to-day, being wishful to see you; but her father wanted her help. He's very busy with his figures this afternoon." Faith shook her head. "Just like him--to put off his duty all the week, then do it on the Lord's Day, when he didn't ought." "He went to worship in the morning, however, as he generally does." "That's to the good then." "Soosie-Toosie's one of the best women on this earth," said Dinah, "only she's too much of a doormat. So cruel busy that she's never got time to think what she owes herself." This struck the visitor as very true, but he had never been greatly interested in Susan. She was very unobtrusive and unchallenging in every way. "She likes it," said Jane. "She likes being driven about and never getting even with her work." "If work is prayer, her life is a prayer," said Mr. Bamsey. "It's a prayer that never gets answered, then," replied Jane. "A dog's life really, only Susan don't see it, more than any other dog would, I suppose." "Don't talk so free, Jane," urged her mother. "She'll work herself to the bone and die afore her time I expect," continued Mrs. Bamsey's daughter. "Then very like you'll see her ghost, mother." This gave Lawrence an opportunity to inquire concerning Faith Bamsey's famous gift. "Is it true, as they tell, that you be a ghost-seer, ma'am?" he asked. "I am," she replied placidly. "It runs in my family and I take no credit for it." "Never afeared?" "Never. They come and they go. 'Tis just something in my nature that lets my eyes see more than other people. There's animals have the gift also, so it's naught to brag about. I'll see the spectrums any time--just the ghostes of dead folk, that flicker about where they used to live sometimes; and if I be that way by chance when they be there, then I see 'em." "And do they see you, ma'am?"