that Wilford felt amused, wondering again what Juno, or even Mark Ray,
would think of the rough old man, sitting with his chair tipped back
against the wall, and going occasionally to the outside door to relieve
himself of his tobacco juice, for chewing was one of the deacon's
weaknesses. His pants were faultlessly clean, and his vest was buttoned
nearly up to his throat, but his coat was hanging on a nail out by the
kitchen door, and, to Katy's distress and Wilford's horror, he sat among
them in his shirt sleeves, all unconscious of harm or of the disquiet
awakened in the bosom of the young man, who on that point was foolishly
fastidious, and who showed by his face how much he was annoyed. Not even
the presence of Morris, who came in about tea time, was of any avail to
lift the cloud from his brow, and he seemed moody and silent until
supper was announced. This was the first opportunity Morris had had of
trying his powers of persuasion upon the deacon, and now, at a hint
from Katy, he said to him in an aside, as they were passing into the
dining-room: "Suppose, Uncle Ephraim, you put on your coat for once. It
is better than coming to the table so."

"Pooh," was Uncle Ephraim's innocent rejoinder, spoken loudly enough
for Wilford to hear, "I don't need it an atom. I shan't catch cold, for
I am used to it; besides that, I never could stand the racket this hot
weather."

In his simplicity he did not even suspect Morris' motive, but imputed it
wholly to his concern lest he should take cold. And so Wilford Cameron
found himself seated next to a man who willfully trampled upon all rules
of etiquette, shocking him in his most sensitive parts, and making him
thoroughly disgusted with the country and country people generally. All
but Morris and Katy--he did make an exception in their favor, leaning
most to Morris, whom he admired more and more as he became better