"We'll go to Cousin Abby's," he announced gleefully to his wife. "Nathan
said last night he'd drive us over there any time. We'll go to-morrow,
an' we won't come back here at all--it'll be ten miles nearer home
there, an' it won't cost us a cent ter get there," he finished
triumphantly. And to Cousin Abby's they went.

So elated was Jeremiah with the result of his scheming that he set his
wits to work in good earnest, and in less than a week he had formulated
an itinerary that embraced the homes of two other cousins, an aunt of
Sarah Ellen's, and the niece of a brother-in-law, the latter being only
three miles from 'his own farmhouse--or rather William's farmhouse, as
he corrected himself bitterly. Before another month had passed, the
round of visits was accomplished, and the little old man and the little
old woman--having been carried to their destination in each case by
their latest host--finally arrived at the farmhouse door. They were
weary, penniless, and half-sick from being feasted and fêted at every
turn, but they were blissfully conscious that of no one had they been
obliged to beg the price of their journey home.

"We didn't write we were comin'," apologized Jeremiah faintly, as he
stumbled across the threshold and dropped into the nearest chair. "We
were goin' ter write from Keziah's, but we were so tired we hurried
right up an' come home. 'Tis nice ter get here; ain't it, Hester?" he
finished, settling back in his chair.

"'Nice'!" cried Hester tremulously, tugging at her bonnet strings.
"'Nice' ain't no name for it, Jeremiah. Why, Sarah Ellen, seems if I
don't want to do nothin' for a whole month but set in my own room an'
jest look 'round all day!"