Not that Ned neglected ’Tenty; he could not follow her about from house to house, and she had done sewing for his mother, and in the evening Aunt ’Viny always needed her.  But more than once he joined her after church, walked home to the door with her, and cheered her simple soul with his familiar looks and tones, and words of praise that made Adriadne Scran’ think Theseus Parker a little more than mere man, something altogether adorable.  However, she knew he was having a very good time when he didn’t see her at all.  The real reason why she ached and sighed over Squire Hall’s pantaloons was, that she heard Ned in the next room helping Hannah-Ann Hall pack up the dinner for their grand Snake Hill picnic, and diverting the same Hannah-Ann with such wit and humor and frolic, that she declared several times she should split, and begged him not to be so funny.

Now ’Tenty never had a pleasant day, unless Ned was with her,—­it had got as far as that; and the idea that he could and did enjoy himself so thoroughly and heartily without her was a dull pang that ate into her soul continually, and made her forlorn.  Oh, these women! these pitiful creatures! not magnanimity enough in a whole race of them to be visible to the naked eye! jealous dogs-in-the-manger!  If they weren’t useful domestically, I should vote for having them exterminated from this great generous world, and give place to some better institution, which no doubt could be got up by the india-rubber companies or the scientific conventions.  But as Alphonso of Castile did not make the world, one must take it as it is; and I will say, for the encouragement of philosophers, that I have known one magnanimous woman, and she a beautiful woman, moreover.

So ’Tenty sewed, and ached, and made Aunt ’Viny’s bed and her gruel, read her Bible and prayed for Ned Parker, and thought she was growing very old, till one night he asked her to go to singing-school with him; whereupon she put on a pink calico dress, and began to recover her youth most wonderfully.

They went to Master Solon’s singing-school, it is true; but they never got home to Aunt ’Viny’s till half past nine, and ’Tenty never could remember what tunes they sang; and the singers in church next Sunday asked her why she didn’t come in when she got as far as the door, and ’Tenty said she thought the benches were all full!  Truth, stern tutor of the historian, compels me to confess that ’Tenty and Ned Parker were sitting on the meeting-house steps most of that evening, in a touching attitude; for Ned was telling her how his ship had come into port and was going to sail again for South America, and he had an offer to join her as second mate; so he had got to say goodbye to his kind little nurse, and so forth and so on, with admonitions never to forget him, and how he never should forget her, and here was a little locket; and finally, sobered by her stifled sobs, Ned bent down his handsome head, and said, softly,—­