the door.
"There is little change in her from year to year, Waitstill.--By
the way, why don't we get out of this afternoon sun and sit in
the old graveyard under the trees? We are early and the choir
won't get here for half an hour.--Dr. Perry says that he does not
understand mother's
case in the least, and that no one but some great Boston
physician could give a proper opinion on it; of course, that is
impossible at present."

They sat down on the grass underneath one of the elms and
Waitstill took off her hat and leaned back against the
tree-trunk.

"Tell me more," she said; "it is so long since we talked together
quietly and we have never really spoken of your mother."

"Of course," Ivory continued, "the people of the village all
think and speak of mother's illness as religious insanity, but to
me it seems nothing of the sort. I was only a child when father
first fell ill with Jacob Cochrane, but I was twelve when father
went away from home on his 'mission,' and if there was any one
suffering from delusions in our family it was he, not mother. She
had altogether given up going to the Cochrane meetings, and I
well remember the scene when my father told her of the revelation
he had received about going through the state and into New
Hampshire in order to convert others and extend the movement. She
had no sympathy with his self-imposed mission, you may be sure,
though now she goes back in her memory to the earlier days of her
married life, when she tried hard, poor soul, to tread the same