she added to the Shaker.

But this he would not allow. "I doubt you'd be careful enough,"
he said, mildly; "Sister Lydia was the only female I ever knew
who could pick herbs."

"Do you get paid for the work you do?" Athalia asked, practically.
Lewis flushed at the boldness of such a question, but the
old man chuckled.

"Should I pay myself?" he asked.

"You own everything in common, don't you?" Lewis said.

"Yee," said the Shaker; "we're all brothers and sisters.
Nobody tries to get ahead of anybody else."

"And you don't believe in marriage?" Athalia asserted.

"We are as the angels of God," he said, simply.

He left them and began to sickle his herbs, with the cheerfully
obvious purpose of escaping further interruption.

Athalia instantly bubbled over with questions, but Lewis could
tell her hardly more of the Shakers than she knew already.

"No, it isn't free love," he said; "they're decent enough.
They believe in general love, not particular, I suppose. . . . 'Thalia,
do you think it's worth while to wait over a train just to