heart caught some apprehension of beauty, for he answered slowly, "So
it is, miss,--a very fine morning."

"And pray, how is your dear little babe, sir?" asked Emma, in a voice
of tender concern.

This question seemed fully to rouse him. There was a glance both of
surprise and intelligence in his eye, as he replied, "The child is very
sick;" and then repeated, as though it were a fact new to himself,
"Yes, that poor child is very sick indeed."

"I was at your house yesterday," continued Emma, "and promised Mrs.
Graffam that I would bring a good old lady living with us to see her;
but I am not well enough to go to-day."

"Sorry if you are sick," murmured Graffam.

"Thank you," said Emma. "I was going to ask if you would have the
kindness just to call at the gate tonight, and take a small package for
Mrs. Graffam?"

"I will," said he, with a tone and manner something like self-respect
and respect for his wife,--"I will, miss, with pleasure;" and he pulled
his old hat from his head, and bowed low, while Emma bade him good-by.

"Go out upon the hills, my love," called Mrs. Lindsay from her window
to Emma; "it will do you no good to be tying-up flowers, and talking
with ragged old men by the roadside. Put on your bonnet, and walk
briskly over the bridge, and let me see you from my window upon the top
of yonder hill."