"Yes, but that might have meant that he wished her to be able to look after her own property," argued Aunt Betsy. "I suppose Priscilla never tells thee anything about it, Calista." "Not she!" answered Calista. "She never speaks to me at all if she can help it." "Priscilla is peculiar—she always was; but no doubt she means to do right, though she always did sit too close to the world," observed Aunt Hannah, who had come down just in time to hear the end of the conversation; "she was very closely and strictly kept by her mother, and I suppose she thinks it is the best way." "I was telling Calista about what her grandfather said the last time he was here," observed Aunt Betsy, as she set a jug of rich cream on the table. "I wouldn't think too much about it, Calista," said Aunt Hannah, looking a little annoyed. "But grandfather did say that—I mean, that he had given the old place to my father and his children?" asked Calista. "Oh, yes, there is no doubt of that; but I suspect he altered matters afterwards." "He hadn't much time to alter them, for he died in a few days," said Aunt Betsy. "I remember it well. I went out that very afternoon wetting down some linen I had bleaching on the grass, when I saw Cassius, your grandfather's servant, riding by as hard as he could go on the old gray. "'Anything the matter, Cassius?' says I. "'Yes,' says he, 'the old gentleman's taken very bad. I believe myself he's dead!' says he, and the tears rolled down his black face, for he was very fond of his master; 'but, anyhow, I'm going for the doctor.' "Presently I saw old Doctor Elsmore riding by, and the next thing I heard the old gentleman was dead, sure enough. Don't thee remember, Hannah? Thee said,— "'Well, I am glad I freed my mind to him, anyhow.'" "I remember," said Hannah. "Was that before I was born?" asked Calista. "Oh, no. Thee must have been—let's see. How old is thee now?" "I shall be sixteen in July." "Then thee must have been about four years old when thy grandfather died." "We won't talk about it any more," said Aunt Hannah, interposing with a glance of gentle authority at her sister. "Doubtless it was all ordered for the best." "I just want to ask one question," said Calista. "What became of Cassius? Is he dead?" "Oh no. I saw him last week. He was a careful fellow, and had saved money, and after his master's death, he bought quite a piece of new land on the river road, near the house thy grandfather gave him. Thee must have seen the place—a low, broad house, with a very large thorny acacia growing over it." "I have never been over that road," said Calista. "No! Well, I wonder at that! It is a very little longer than this, but much pleasanter, especially in summer, though it is rather lonely." "So that is the reason aunt told me not to go by the river road," thought Calista. "I declare I will the very next time I drive home." Aunt Hannah again interposed with her bundle of patterns, and the subject was dropped.