He boomed away at her upon a number of subjects, while she placidly nodded acquiescence and made her knitting needles flash--and he talked, and talked, and talked. When the little old lady retired to bed Lyddy went to her room, as she usually did, to see if she was comfortable for the night. "I am afraid our new guest rather bored you, Mrs. Castle?" Lyddy ventured. "On the contrary, Lydia," replied the old lady, promptly, "his talk is very soothing; and I can knit with perfect assurance that I shall not miss count while he is talking--for I don't really listen to a word he says!" Professor Spink did not, however, make himself offensive. He only seemed likely to become a dreadful bore. During the day he wandered about the farm--a good deal like Mr. Colesworth. Only he did not carry with him a little hammer and bag. 'Phemie wondered if the professor had not come here to board for the express purpose of continuing his mysterious search at the back of the farm without arousing either objection or comment. He watched Mr. Colesworth, too. There could be no doubt of that. When the old geologist started out with his hammer and bag, the professor trailed him. But the two never went together. Mr. Colesworth often brought in curious specimens of rock; but he said frankly that he had come across no mineral of value on the farm in sufficient quantities to promise the owner returns for mining the ore. Aunt Jane, too, had said that the rocks back of Hillcrest had been examined by geologists time and again. There was no mineral treasure on the farm. _That_ was surely not the secret of the rocks--and it wasn't mineral Professor Spink was after. But the week passed without 'Phemie's having studied out a single sensible idea about the matter. Friday was a very hard and busy day for the girls. It was the big baking day of the week. They made a fire twice in the big brick oven, and left two pots of beans in it over night. "But there's enough in the larder to last over Sunday, thanks be!" sighed 'Phemie, when she and Lyddy crept to bed. "I hope so. What a lot they do eat!" said Lyddy, sleepily. "A double baking of bread. A dozen apple pies; four squash pies; and an extra lemon-meringue for Sunday dinner. Oh, dear, Lyd! I wish you'd let me go and ask Maw Pritchett for her Dutch oven." "No," replied the older sister, drowsily. "We will not risk a refusal. Besides, Mr. Somers said something about an old lady over the ridge--beyond the chapel--who is selling out--or being sold out--Mrs. Harrison. Maybe she has something of the kind that she will sell cheap." "Well--that--old--brick--oven--is--kill--ing--me!" yawned 'Phemie, and then was sound asleep in half a minute. The next morning, however, the girls hustled about as rapidly as possible and when Lucas drove up with young Mr. Colesworth they were ready to take a drive with the young farmer over the ridge.