Good Mrs. Elderkin was, indeed, the pattern woman of the parish in all charitable deeds,--not only outside, (where so many charitable natures find their limits,) but indoors. With gentle speech and gentle manner, she gave, maybe, her occasional closet-counsel to the Squire; but most times her efforts to win him to a more serious habit of thought are covered under the shape of some charming plea for a kindness to herself or the "dear girls," which she knows that he will not have the hardihood to resist. And even this method she does not push too far,--making it a cardinal point in her womanly strategy that his home shall be always grateful to the Squire,--that he shall never be driven from it by any thought or suspicion of her exactions. Thus, if Grace--who is her oldest daughter, and almost woman grown--has some evening appointment at Bible class, or other such gathering, and, the boys being out, appeals timidly to the father, good Mrs. Elderkin says,-- "I am afraid your papa is too tired, Grace; do let him enjoy himself." At which the Squire, shaking off his lethargy, says,-- "Get your things, child!" And as he goes out with Grace, he is rewarded by one of those tender smiles upon the lip of the mother which captivated him twenty years before, and which still make his fireside the most cherished spot in the town. No wonder that the little half-orphaned creature, Adele, with her explosive warmth of heart, is kindly received among the Elderkins. Phil was some three years her senior, a ruddy-faced, open-hearted fellow, who had been well-nurtured, like his two elder brothers, but in whom a certain waywardness just now appearing was attributed very much, by the closely observing mother, to the influence of that interesting, but mischievous boy, Reuben. Phil was the superior in age, indeed, and in muscle, (as we may find proof,) but in nerve-power the more delicate-featured boy of the parson outranked him.