Whether it were good breeding, or the magnanimity that exempts the unit from the responsibility of the multitude, or a realization that Judge Roscoe's guest, be he whom he might, was entitled to the consideration of all in the Roscoe house, there was no demonstration of even the slightest antagonism. The usual civility of salutation in acknowledging the introduction served to withhold from Captain Baynell himself the fact that he could hardly hope to be _persona grata_; and ensconced in an arm-chair at the window overlooking the lovely landscape, he found a certain amusement and entertainment in watching the zealous industry of the little Roscoe "ladies," who were very competent lint-pickers and boasted some prodigies of performance. A large old linen crumb-cloth, laundered for the occasion, had been spread in the corner between the rear and side windows of the back parlor, so that the flying lint should not bespeck the velvet carpet, or an overturned basket work injury, and here in their three little chairs they sat and competed with each other, appealing to Captain Baynell to time them by his watch. Now and then their comments, after the manner of their age, were keenly malapropos and occasioned a sense of embarrassment. "Don't you reckon Ac'obat is homesick by this time, Captain?" demanded Adelaide. "Look out of the window, Captain--you can see the grating to the wine-cellar where he could put his nose out to take the air," said Geraldine. "An' he thought the lightning could come in there to take him--kee--kee--" giggled Adelaide. "Oh, _wasn't_ he a foolish horse!" commented Geraldine, regretfully. "Uncle Ephraim said Ac'obat had no religion else he'd have stayed where he was put like a Christian," Adelaide observed. "Oh, but he was _just_ a horse--poor Ac'obat!" At this moment emulation seized Geraldine. "Oh, my--just look how Lucille is double-quickin' about that lint pickin'!" And a busy silence ensued.