In this angle of New Hampshire thrust in between Massachusetts and Vermont names are a living record. The Nipmuck disappeared in proportion as the restless English colonists pushed farther and farther from the sea. They came in little companies, generally urged by some religious disagreement with those they had left behind. To escape the "Congregational way" they fled into the mountains. There they were free to follow the "Episcoparian way." As "Episcoparians" they printed the map with names which enshrined their old-home memories. Clustering within sight of the blue mass of Monadnock are neat white towns—Marlborough, Richmond, Chesterfield, Walpole, Peterborough, Fitzwilliam, Winchester—rich with "Episcoparian" suggestion.
In the early eighteenth century there came in another strain. Driven by famine, a thousand pilgrims arrived in these relatively empty lands from the North of Ireland, sturdy, strong-minded, Protestant. Grouping themselves into three communities, they named them with Irish names, Antrim, Hillsborough, Dublin. It was to Dublin that Tom and Hildred were on the way.
The subject of cars exhausted, she swung to something else.
"You like the idea of going with Guy?"
"It's great."
"I like it too. I'd rather he was with you than with anybody. You never make game of him, and yet you never humor him."
"What do you mean by that, that I never humor him?"
"Oh, well! Guy's standards aren't very high. We know that. But you never lower yours."
"How do you know I don't?"
"Because Guy says so. Don't imagine for a minute that he doesn't see. He likes you so much because he respects you."