purpose, he went to the hard-wood dresser, scoured to the last
pitch of whiteness and cleanliness, and began drawing with the
stick; the best substitute for chalk or charcoal within his
reach, for his pocket-book pencil was not strong or bold enough
for his purpose. When he had done, he began to explain his new
model of a turnip-cutting machine to the minister, who had been
watching him in silence all the time. Cousin Holman had, in the
meantime, taken a duster out of a drawer, and, under pretence of
being as much interested as her husband in the drawing, was
secretly trying on an outside mark how easily it would come off,
and whether it would leave her dresser as white as before. Then
Phillis was sent for the book on dynamics about which I had been
consulted during my first visit, and my father had to explain
many difficulties, which he did in language as clear as his mind,
making drawings with his stick wherever they were needed as
illustrations, the minister sitting with his massive head resting
on his hands, his elbows on the table, almost unconscious of
Phillis, leaning over and listening greedily, with her hand on
his shoulder, sucking in information like her father's own
daughter. I was rather sorry for cousin Holman; I had been so
once or twice before; for do what she would, she was completely
unable even to understand the pleasure her husband and daughter
took in intellectual pursuits, much less to care in the least
herself for the pursuits themselves, and was thus unavoidably
thrown out of some of their interests. I had once or twice
thought she was a little jealous of her own child, as a fitter
companion for her husband than she was herself; and I fancied the
minister himself was aware of this feeling, for I had noticed an
occasional sudden change of subject, and a tenderness of appeal
in his voice as he spoke to her, which always made her look