Mrs. Bolton's countenance was glowing with pleasure.

"I always heard that she was a neighbourly, good woman," added Mrs.
Bolton.

"I don't think much of her husband," returned Mr. Bolton, coldly, as
he passed from the room after pausing there for only a moment. He
could not look at the lumps of golden butter and the pitcher of
cream without feeling rebuked, and so he got away as quickly as
possible.

"Have you done as I directed?" said Mr. Bolton, with knit brows, on
meeting Ben, some time afterwards, returning from the part of the
farm where he had left him.

"Yes, sir," was the answer of Ben.

"What did you do with the gate?"

"I threw it into the field, as you told me."

"You didn't break it?"

"No, sir."

"Very well."

"There'll be trouble, Mr. Bolton," said Ben.