[Illustration: Her sewing was a pathetic blunder of haste and
happiness. _Awakening of Helena Richie_]

William had fallen into the habit of drawing up and calling out "good
morning" whenever he and his mare passed her gate. Mrs. Richie's lack
of common sense seemed to delight the sensible William. When he was
with her, he was in the frame of mind that finds everything a joke. It
was a demand for the eternal child in her, to which, involuntarily,
she responded. She laughed at him, and even teased him about his
shabby buggy with a gayety that made him tingle with pleasure. She
used to wonder at herself as she did it--conscious and uneasy, and
resolving every time that she would not do it again. She had none of
this lightness with any one else. With Dr. Lavendar she was reserved
to the point of coldness, and with young Sam Wright, matter-of-fact to
a discouraging degree.

But she did not see Sam often in the next month. It had occurred to
Sam senior that Adam Smith might cure the boy's taste for 'bosh'; so,
by his father's orders, his Sunday afternoons were devoted to _The
Wealth of Nations_. As for his evenings, his grandfather took
possession of them. Benjamin Wright's proposal that the young man
should go away for a while, had fallen flat; Sam replying, frankly,
that he did not care to leave Old Chester. As Mr. Wright was not
prepared to give any reasons for urging his plan, he dropped it; and
instead on Sunday nights detained his grandson to listen to this or
that drama or poem until the boy could hardly hide his impatience.
When he was free and could hurry down the hill road, as often as not
the lights were out in the Stuffed Animal House, and he could only
linger at the gate and wonder which was her window. But when he did