On the return of the procession from the little knoll where the slate and marble tomb-stones of long dead Fairchilds bent over the new brown mound, Annie and Seth walked together. There was silence between them for a time, which he broke suddenly. “It’s _all_ very hard, Annie, for you know how much mother and I loved each other. But, truly, the hardest thing of all is to think of staying here among these narrow dolts. While she was here I could stand it. But I can’t any more.” Annie said nothing. She felt his arm trembling against hers, and his voice was strained and excited. What _could_ she say? “They’re not like me,” he went on; “I have nothing in common with them. I hate the sight of the whole of them. I never realised till to-day how big a gulf there was between them and me. Didn’t _you_ see it--what a mean, narrow-contracted lot they all were?” “Who do you mean, Seth?” “Why all of them. The Burrells, the Wimples, old Elhanan Pratt, old Lyman Tenney, that fellow Bunce--the whole lot of them. And the women too! Did you watch them--or, what’s worse, did you hear them? I wonder you can bear them yourself, Annie, any more than I can.” “Sometimes it _is_ hard, Seth, I admit; when I first came back to grandma from school it was awfully hard. But then I’ve got to live here, and reconcile myself to what the place offers,--and, after all, Seth, they are well-meaning people, and some of them are smart, too, in their way.” “Oh, well-meaning--in their way,--yes! But I haven’t got to live here, Annie, and I haven’t got to reconcile myself, and I _won’t_ That’s the long and short of it. I can make my living elsewhere--perhaps more than my living--and be among people who don’t make me angry every time I set eyes on them. And I can find friends, too, who feel as I do, and look at things as I do, instead of these country louts who only know abominable stories, and these foolish girls--who--who--” “Nobody can blame you to-day, Seth, for feeling blue and sore, but you ought not to talk so, even now. They’re not all like what you say. Reuben Tracy, now, he’s been a good friend and a useful friend to you.” “Yes, Rube’s a grand, good fellow, of course. I know all that. But then just take his case. He’s a poor schoolmaster now, just as he was five years ago, and will be twenty years from now. What kind of a life is that for a man?” “And maybe the girls _are_--foolish, as you started to say, but--” “Now, Annie, don’t think I m’eant anything by that, _please!_ I know you’re the dearest girl and the best friend in the world. Truly, now, you won’t think I meant anything, will you?” “No, Seth, I won’t” said Annie softly. It was her arm that trembled now. CHAPTER VI.--IN THE NAME OF THE FAMILY.