"He may have got in down there where there's a picket missing in the fence," said Ethan. "Oh, that picket hasn't been there for ages," Val answered; "but the old hundred-leaved rose-bushes are so thick in that corner, and so thorny, nothing can get past." As she ran forward to eject the strange dog, she caught her foot in the dry, tangled grass, and, but for Ethan's quick hand, would have fallen. "_Oh!_" she said, flushing and looking confused; then, without any proper acknowledgment, she darted off after the dog. "If _I_ did that, father, you'd say I was clumsy," said Emmie, smiling up into his face in the prettiest way in the world. "The grass is very long," said John Gano--"long and matted." "It grows with great rapidity," said his mother. "It seems only yesterday we had a man here cutting it." "It was the 29th of June." "Oh, you must be mistaken." John Gano shook his head. "I remember quite well. It was the anniversary of Clay's death." Val joined them again, breathless from the chase. Ethan had paused absent-mindedly near the corner of the wooden L, where the weather-boarding was hanging loose. It wasn't in the best taste, Val felt, that he should stare so at that strip of rotten wood, that refused any longer to hold the rusty nails. She longed to touch his arm, to rouse him. "All this needs renewing," admitted John Gano, as though in answer to a verbal observation. "A--yes," said Ethan, and they went on. It was odd how the unsparing sunshine and a new pair of eyes in the party revealed the wide-spread dilapidation of the place to its old inhabitants. Val had hardly noticed it before. John Gano picked up a blackened, weather-worn shingle off the grass. "The equinox brought down a fresh crop of these," he said, tossing the old shingle into the wood-shed. "Comes off the L, I suppose," said Ethan. "No, the main roof." "Doesn't it leak, then?" "A little," answered his uncle, cheerfully. "That must be bad for the house." "We shall be roofed with slate next time," said Mrs. Gano; "it lasts longer." "Oh, we can't complain of the way a shingle roof has lasted, that's done duty more than a quarter of a century," returned her son. "Whenever it rains we have such fun," said Emmie. "We carry up an army of buckets and basins and washtubs to catch the rain in the attic. Last week it came through into father's room in the night, and Val--" "Emmeline," said Mrs. Gano, "walk on; the path is narrow here." As they passed the kitchen-window Ethan glanced in. "Good-morning, Aunt Jerusha! Morning, Venus!" "Mawnin'!" "Mawnin', Marse Efan!" The old woman hobbled delightedly to the window, avoiding a broken place in the flooring. "I see you don't neglect my knocker--shines like gold." "Go long, Marse Efan!" Her rich chuckling bubbled over. "Tooby suah I ain't disremember dat ar knocker o' yourn--not oncet in twenty yeah." "Why do you have those little squares of zinc nailed all over your kitchen floor, Aunt Jerusha?"