back, and Peleg held firmly to established precedent. He might be landed
gentry, but he was no tiller of the soil, and he secretly looked down on
his elder brother for personally cultivating the family acres.

Mr. Delaplaine was likewise addicted to reverie and historic retrospect.
Nothing delighted Billie and Kit so much as to ride down to the store and
get a chance to converse with both of the old men on local history and
family "trees." Mr. Delaplaine's mail, which consisted mostly of
catalogues, came addressed to N.B. Delaplaine, Esq., and even the little
French Canadian kiddies tumbling around the gardens of the mill houses
down in Nantic knew what that N.B. stood for, but to Gilead he was just
"Bony" Delaplaine.

Every day that first week found the girls down at the Farm prying around
the ruins for any lost treasures. Stanley Howard struck up a friendship
with both the Judge and Mr. Bobbins, and usually drove by on his way from
the village. He would stop and chat for a few moments with them, but Kit
was elusive. Vaguely, she felt that the proper thing for her to do was to
offer an apology, for even considering him an unlawful trespasser. When
Stanley would drive away, Jean would laugh at her teasingly.

"Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud, sister mine? He seems a
very sightly young man, even if he does 'chase caterpillars for a living.'
I never did see any one except you, Kit, who hated to acknowledge herself
in the wrong. The rest of us all have the most peaceful, forgiving sort of
dispositions, but you can be a regular porcupine when you want to be."

"It could come from Uncle Cassius," retorted Kit. "Did you hear them all
talking about him over at Elmwood while we were there? Let's sit here
under the pines a minute until the mailman goes by. I'm awfully tired