"Ay, three score an' ten—small an' close together, now, as I look off at them, like a flock o' pigeons in the sky."
"What do you think?" said Polly, as she dropped her knitting. "The two old maids are coming to-night."
"The two old maids!" said Darrel; "'tis a sign an' a wonder."
"Oh, a great change has come over them," Polly went on. "It's all the work o' the teacher. You know he really coaxed them into sliding with him last winter."
"I heard of it—the gay Philander!" said Darrel, laughing merrily.
"Ah! he's a wonder with the maidens!"
"I know it," said Polly, with a sigh.
Trove was idly brushing the mat of grass with a walking-stick. He loved fun, but he had no conceit for this kind of banter.
"It was one of my best accomplishments," said he, blushing. "I taught them that there was really a world outside their house and that men were not all as lions, seeking whom they might devour."
Soon the widow and her boys came, their pails full of berries.
"We cannot shake hands with you," said Mrs. Vaughn, her fingers red with the berry stain.