At any rate, it was certain that Crewne was absent from Hardhack, and it was evident that he had decided who was to be the lady of the cottage, so the season of festivity was brought to an abrupt close, and the digestions of Hardhack were snatched from ruin.
From kitchen-windows were now wafted odors of boiled corned beef and stewed apples, instead of the fragrance of delicate preserves and delicious turkey.
Young ladies, when they met in the street, greeted each other with a shade less of cordiality than usual, and fathers and mothers in Israel cast into each other’s eyes searching and suspicious glances.
One afternoon, when the pious matrons of Hardhack were gathering at the pastor’s residence to take part in the regular weekly mothers’ prayer-meeting, the mail-coach rolled into town, and Mrs. Leekins, who was sitting by the window, as she always did, exclaimed:
“He’s come back—there he is—on the seat with the driver!”
Every one hurried to the window, and saw that Mrs. Leekins had spoken truly, for there sat Crewne with a pleasant smile on his face, while on top of the stage were several large trunks marked C.
“Must have got a handsome fit-out,” suggested Mrs. Leekins.
The stage stopped at the door of Crewne’s new cottage, and Crewne got out. The pastor entered the parlor to open the meeting, and was selecting a hymn, when Mrs. Leekins startled the meeting by ejaculating:
“Lands alive!”
The meeting was demoralized; the sisters hastened to the window, and the good pastor, laying down his hymnbook, followed in time to see Crewne helping out a well-dressed and apparently young and handsome lady.