he very wisely thought proper to treat Laura with a kindness less familiar than before, which perceiving with the quickness of her sex, she also practised a like reserve.  But notwithstanding this prudent change in his demeanor, his good-will for Laura was in no wise abated.  At all events, the friendship between Cornelia and Laura suffered no decay or diminution.  Indeed, it increased in fervency and strength.  For Laura, having finished her course of study at the Belfield Academy, had now more time to devote to Cornelia than when she had had lessons to get and recitations to attend.  The parsonage stood next to the Bugbee mansion, and in the paling between the two gardens there was a wicket, through which Cornelia, Laura, and Helen used to run to and fro a dozen times a day.  The females of the Doctor’s family made nothing of scudding, bareheaded, across to the parsonage by this convenient back-way, and bolting into the kitchen without so much as knocking at the door; and Laura’s habits at the Bugbee mansion were still more familiar.  Mrs. Jaynes, though not the most affable of womankind, gave this close intimacy much favor and encouragement; for she bore in mind that Cornelia’s father was the richest and most influential member of her husband’s church and parish.

At first, Laura was a little shy of the plain-spoken old maid, for whose person, manners, and opinions she had often heard Mrs. Jaynes express, in private, a most bitter dislike.  But Statira had been regnant in the Bugbee mansion less than a week, when Laura began to make timid advances towards a mutual good understanding, of which for a while Statira affected to take no heed; for having formed a resolution to maintain a strict reserve towards every inmate of the parsonage, she was not disposed to break it so soon, even in favor of Laura, whose winsome overtures she found it difficult to resist.

“If it wa’n’t for her bein’ Miss Jaynes’s sister,” said she, one day, to Cornelia, who had been praising her friend,—­“if it wa’n’t for that one thing, I should like her remarkable well,—­a good deal more’n common.”

“Pray, what have you got such a spite against the Jayneses for?” asked Cornelia.

“What do you mean by askin’ such a question as that, Cornele?” said Tira, in a tone of stern reproof.  “Who’s got a spite against ’em?  Not I, by a good deal!  As for the parson himself, he’s a well-meanin’ man, and does as near right as he knows how.  If you could say as much as that for everybody, there wouldn’t be any need of parsons any more.”

“But you don’t like Mrs. Jaynes,” persisted Cornelia.

“I ha’n’t got a spite against her, Cornele,—­though, I confess, I don’t love the woman,” replied Statira.  “But I always treat her well; though, to be sure, I don’t curchy so low and keep smilin’ so much as most folks do, when they meet a minister’s wife and have talk with her.  Even when she comes here a-borrowin’ things she knows will be giv’ to her when she asks for ’em, which makes it so near to beggin’ that she ought to be ashamed on’t, which I only give to her because it’s your father’s wish for me to do so, and the things are his’n; but I always treat her well, Cornele.”