"I'd like to have your sister Phebe give him a lecture—she'd tear him all to pieces jest as easy as shellin' an ear of corn. I like to hear her talk; she ain't afraid of all the lies that can be invented. What a good hit she give Deacon Grover that night when he come in with his ideas of nothin' spillin' over. She talked good common sense, and hew as the subject, for it was all about a hypocrite. He did'nt stay to see if he could get a mug of cider to save his own, but set mighty uneasy and was off for home before eight o'clock. That done me good."
That evening was spent by me in conversation with Louis. Next morning at the breakfast table the subject of the poor lamb was not broached, and directly after, when the stage came along, Mr. Benton took it to go to the village on business.
"There," said Aunt Hildy, "he never'll step on to this door-sill again—but I would'nt throw a horseshoe after him if I knew it would be good luck. He don't deserve any."
"Why, he hasn't taken as much as a carpet-bag," said my father, "of course, he will be back again."
"No, sir, Mr. Minot; that feller is up to snuff—he ain't going to stop now for any duty pictures," and she turned to her work as if satisfied with having made a true prophecy.
I spoke to Clara about going over to see Miss Harris, and she felt inclined to go that morning.
"Louis, too, may go," she said. "Come, dear boy."
We were very welcome, and found Miss Harris seated in the old rush-chair before the fire-place. Her dress was a most becoming wrapper of blue (she found it in Clara's bundle) her hair falling as on the previous day in natural curls, and the same India shawl thrown over her sloping shoulders. She was exactly Clara's size, and when the two came together, Clara said, "We are sisters surely." But afterward, as they sat side by side, I could see such a difference. Alike in form and complexion, also having regular features, yet the light in our Clara's eyes was incomparably purer, savored less of earth. Miss Harris' face was sweet, truthful, the lines of her mouth alone defining her powerful will and courage. She was very beautiful, but earthly, while over my own Clara's face there fell the unmistakable light of something beyond. Oh! my saving angel, how my heart beat as I sat there drawing the comparison, giving to Miss Harris a place in the sitting-room of my womanly feeling, and yielding to my beloved Clara the entire room where lay the purest thoughts which had been boon to my spirit, coming to life at the touch of her tender hand! She was a beacon light in the wilderness of thought.
"Tell me, Miss Minot," said Miss Harris, "tell me all you know, for I feel you do know much."
I explained Mr. Benton's coming to stay with us, and when I said he took the stage this morning for town, and will be back, I suppose—