elderly woman, who sat in a large rocking-chair,
plying a pair of knitting-needles on a half-finished
stocking. Warwick's walk led him within three
feet of the side gate, which he felt an almost
irresistible impulse to enter. Every detail of the
house and garden was familiar; a thousand cords
of memory and affection drew him thither; but a
stronger counter-motive prevailed. With a great
effort he restrained himself, and after a momentary
pause, walked slowly on past the house, with a
backward glance, which he turned away when he
saw that it was observed.

Warwick's attention had been so fully absorbed
by the house behind the cedars and the women
there, that he had scarcely noticed, on the other
side of the neglected by-street, two men working
by a large open window, in a low, rude building
with a clapboarded roof, directly opposite the back
piazza occupied by the two women. Both the men
were busily engaged in shaping barrel-staves, each
wielding a sharp-edged drawing-knife on a piece of
seasoned oak clasped tightly in a wooden vise.

"I jes' wonder who dat man is, an' w'at he 's
doin' on dis street," observed the younger of the
two, with a suspicious air. He had noticed the
gentleman's involuntary pause and his interest in
the opposite house, and had stopped work for a
moment to watch the stranger as he went on down