Solomon made no reply. He frowned over the great volume on his knees. The deaf-and-dumb boy had set his empty plate on the hearth and fallen asleep again, with his head tilted against the jamb. Melissa sewed, her pale face bent closely over her work. “Hear ye are goin’ to fly from Penfield’s hill?” said Simeon. Still Solomon said nothing. “Well, I s’pose that’s as good a place as any,” said Simeon, “though ’tain’t a very high hill. I should ’most think you’d want a higher hill than Penfield’s. I s’pose you’ll be kind of unhandy with your wings at first, an’ start off something like hens. But then I s’pose a few feet more or less won’t make no odds when they get fairly to workin’. I heard the women was makin’ flyin’-petticoats. Them what you’re to work on, Sophy Anne, you and Melissy?” Sophia Anne gave one look at him, then she took a stitch. “Abby Mosely’s to work on one, I guess,” said Simeon. “She’s ben a-settin’ in a heap of white cloth a-sewin’ for three days. I came in once, an’ she was tryin’ of it on, an’ she slipped out of it mighty sudden. All I’ve got to say is she’ll cut a queer figure flyin’. She’s pretty hefty. I miss my guess if she don’t find it a job to strike out at first. Now I should think you might take to flyin’ pretty natural, Sophy Anne.” Mrs. Lennox’s pale face was flushed with anger, but she sewed on steadily. “As for Melissy,” said Simeon, in his chuckling drawl, “I ruther guess she could fly without much practice too. She’s built light; but it strikes me she’d better have a weddin’-gown than a flyin’-petticoat. Young Penfield goin’ to fly with you, Melissy?” Solomon Lennox closed the Bible with a great clap. “I’ll have no more of this!” he said, with a shout of long-repressed fury. “Now, Solomon, don’t ye get riled so near the end of the world,” drawled his brother, getting up slowly. “I’m a-goin’. I ain’t goin’ to be the means of makin’ you backslide when ye’re so nigh the top of Zion’s Hill. I’m a-goin’ home. I don’t s’pose I shall get no supper on account of Abby’s hurryin’ up on her flyin’-petticoat. Sure you ain’t goin’ to make them mince-pies for me, Sophy Anne?” “Yes, I be sure.” The brother-in-law thrust his sharp old face down close to Sophia Anne’s. “Sure?” he repeated. Sophia Anne started back and stared at him. There was something strange in his manner. The old man laughed, and straightened himself. “Well, I’m a-goin’,” said he. “Good-bye. Mebbe I sha’n’t see ye again before ye fly. Hope ye’ll light easy. Good-bye.” After Simeon had closed the door, he opened it again, and thrust his sharp features through a narrow aperture. “Look at here, Solomon,” said he. “Mind ye leave the key in the door when ye go out to fly Thursday night. I want to come right in.” Then Simeon shut the door again, but his malicious laugh could be plainly heard in the entry.