"Where are the cows you went after more than three hours ago?"
Walter colored, and so did Jessie, while the matter-of-fact Aunt Debby rejoined:
"Why, Amos, the cows is milked and the cream is nigh about riz."
That night, after all had retired except the deacon and Walter, the former said to his grandson:
"What kept you and Jessie so late?"
"I was telling her of my father, and why he went away," returned Walter.
The deacon groaned as he always did when that subject was mentioned,—then after a moment he added:
"I am glad it was no worse,—that is, I'm glad you are not betraying Mr. Graham's trust by making love to his daughter."
Walter was very pale, but he did not speak, and his grandfather continued:
"I am old, Walter, but I have not forgotten the days when I was young; and remembering my disposition then, I can see why you should love Jessie Graham. God bless her! She's worthy of any man's best love, and she's wound herself round my old heart till the sound of her voice is sweet to me almost as Ellen's; but she isn't for you, Walter. I know Mr. Graham better than you do. He's noble and good, but very proud, and the daughter of a millionaire must never marry the son of a poor——"