“Ivory Boynton never speaks a word of my looks, nor a word that father and all the world mightn't hear.” And Waitstill flushed. “Then it's because he's shy and silent and has so many troubles of his own that he doesn't dare say anything. When my hair is once up and the coral pendants are swinging in my ears, I shall expect to hear something about MY looks, I can tell you. Waity, after all, though we never have what we want to eat, and never a decent dress to our backs, nor a young man to cross the threshold, I wouldn't change places with Ivory Boynton, would you?” Here Patty swept the hearth vigorously with a turkey wing and added a few corncobs to the fire. Waitstill paused a moment in her task of bread-kneading. “Well,” she answered critically, “at least we know where our father is.” “We do, indeed! We also know that he is thoroughly alive!” “And though people do talk about him, they can't say the things they say of Master Aaron Boynton. I don't believe father would ever run away and desert us.” “I fear not,” said Patty. “I wish the angels would put the idea into his head, though, of course, it wouldn't be the angels; they'd be above it. It would have to be the 'Old Driver,' as Jed Morrill calls the Evil One; but whoever did it, the result would be the same: we should be deserted, and live happily ever after. Oh! to be deserted, and left with you alone on this hilltop, what joy it would be!” Waitstill frowned, but did not interfere further with Patty's intemperate speech. She knew that she was simply serving as an escape-valve, and that after the steam was “let off” she would be more rational. “Of course, we are motherless,” continued Patty wistfully, “but poor Ivory is worse than motherless.” “No, not worse, Patty,” said Waitstill, taking the bread-board and moving towards the closet. “Ivory loves his mother and she loves him, with all the mind she has left! She has the best blood of New England flowing in her veins, and I suppose it was a great come down for her to marry Aaron Boynton, clever and gifted though he was. Now Ivory has to protect her, poor, daft, innocent creature, and hide her away from the gossip of the village. He is surely the best of sons, Ivory Boynton!” “She is a terrible care for him, and like to spoil his life,” said Patty. “There are cares that swell the heart and make it bigger and warmer, Patty, just as there are cares that shrivel it and leave it tired and cold. Love lightens Ivory's afflictions but that is something you and I have to do without, so it seems.” “I suppose little Rodman is some comfort to the Boyntons, even if he is only ten.” Patty suggested.