"I am more than reconciled to your plan, husband. It seems to me
delightful."

When we reentered Connie's room, we found that her baby had just waked, and
she had managed to get one arm under her, and was trying to comfort her,
for she was crying.






CHAPTER IX.

A SPRING CHAPTER.





More especially now in my old age, I find myself "to a lingering motion
bound." I would, if I might, tell a tale day by day, hour by hour,
following the movement of the year in its sweet change of seasons. This
may not be, but I will indulge myself now so far as to call this a spring
chapter, and so pass to the summer, when my reader will see why I have
called my story "The Seaboard Parish."

I was out one day amongst my people, and I found two precious things:
one, a lovely little fact, the other a lovely little primrose. This was
a pinched, dwarfish thing, for the spring was but a baby herself, and so