to be together."

"I--I--we have talked of it."

Talked about it! John and I had talked of nothing else for a week. I sat
very still, my eyes on the carpet.

"Guess John Burke'll have all he cares to do for one while, gittin'
started in the law office, 'thout runnin' round with Nelly," said Ma. "Ye
seem bent on spoilin' the child, Ezry. Al'ays the same way, ever sin'
she's a little girl."

Her lips were compressed, the outward symbol of a life of silent hours and
self restraint.

"There, there, Ma," said Father, jogging his chair again. "Don't ye worry
no more 'bout that. What's ourn is hern in the long run, an' she may as
well have some of it now when she wants it, an' it'll do her some good. I
s'pose Frank Baker--she that's your mother's cousin an' married Tim'thy
Baker an's gone to New York to live--I s'pose she might look after you;
but it's a long way off, New York--seems like a dretful long way off. What
ye goin' to learn, Sis, if ye should go t' the city?"

"Well, I was good in chemistry; Prof. Meade advised me--I might study
medicine; I don't know. And I want to know more about books and pictures
and the things that people talk about, out in the world, though I can
hardly call that a study, I suppose."

The words somehow disappointed me when uttered. They didn't sound
convincing. Such pursuits seemed less serious, there in the old farm-house