“That poor little freckled thing is with her folks by this time, as happy as a king.” But though he said this sort o' defient like, he begun to feel bad about what he had done, I could see it by his looks; but he tried to keep up, and says he, “My conscience is clear, clear as a crystal goblet; and my stomack is as empty as one. I didn't eat a mouthful of supper. Cake, cake, and ice-cream, and jell! a dog couldn't eat it. I want some potatoes and meat!” And then he started out; and I went down, and got a good supper, but I sithed and groaned powerful and frequent. Philury got home safely from her bridal tower, lookin' clever, but considerable lonesome. Truly, men are handy on many occasions, and in no place do they seem more useful and necessary than on a weddin' tower. Ury seemed considerable tickled to have her back agin. And Josiah would whisper to me every chance he got,-- “That now she had got back to help him, it was Ury's turn to go, and there wuzn't nothin' fair in his not havin' a tower.” Josiah always stands up for his sect. And I would answer him every time,-- “That if I lived, Philury and Ury should go off on a tower together, like human bein's.” And Josiah would look cross and dissatisfied, and mutter somethin' about the milkin'. _There was where the shoe pinched_. Wall, right when he was a mutterin' one day, Cicely got back from Washington. And he stopped lookin' cross, and looked placid, and sunshiny. That man thinks his eyes of Cicely, both of 'em; and so do I. But I see that she looked fagged out. And she told me how hard she had worked ever sence she had been gone. She had been to some of the biggest temperance meetin's, and had done every thing she could with her influence and her money. She was willin' to spend her money like rain-water, if it would help any. But she said it seemed as if the powers against it was greater than ever, and she was heart-sick and weary. She had had another letter from the executor, too, that worried her. She told me that, after she went up to her room at night, and the boy was asleep. She had took off her heavy mournin'-dress, covered with crape, and put on a pretty white loose dress; and she laid her head down in my lap, and I smoothed her shinin' hair, and says to her,-- “You are all tired out to-night, Cicely: you'll feel better in the mornin'.” But she didn't: she was sick in bed the next day, and for two or three days. And it was arranged, that, jest as quick as she got well enough to go, I was to go with her to see the executor, to see if we couldn't make him change his mind. It was only half a day's ride on the cars, and I'd go further to please her. But she was sick for most a week. And the boy meant to be good. He wanted to be, and I know it. But though he was such a sweet disposition, and easy to mind, he was dretful easy led away by temptation, and other boys.