In a few minutes Ishmael, neatly attired, joined her in the parlor.

“Have you put on your watch, Ishmael?”

“Yes, Aunt Hannah; but I’m wearing it on a guard.  I don’t like to wear the chain; it is too showy for my circumstances.  You wear it, Aunt Hannah; and always wear it when you go out; it looks beautiful over your black silk dress,” said Ishmael, as he put the chain around Mrs. Gray’s neck and contemplated the effect.

“What a good boy you are!” said Hannah; but she would not have been a woman if she had not been pleased with the decoration.

Reuben Gray came in, arrayed in his Sunday suit, and smiled to see how splendid Hannah was, and then drawing his wife’s arm proudly within his own, and calling Ishmael to accompany them, set off to walk a mile farther up the river and spend a festive evening with his brother overseer.  They had a pleasant afternoon stroll along the pebbly beach of the broad waters.  They sauntered at their leisure, watching the ships sail up or down the river; looking at the sea-fowl dart up from the reeds and float far away; glancing at the little fish leaping up and disappearing in the waves; and pausing once in a while to pick up a pretty shell or stone; and so at last they reached the cottage of the overseer Brown, which stood just upon the point of a little promontory that jutted out into the river.

They spent a social evening with the overseer and his wife and their half a dozen buxom boys and girls.  And about ten o’clock they walked home by starlight.

Twice a week Reuben Gray went up the river to a little waterside hamlet called Shelton to meet the mail.  Reuben’s only correspondent was his master, who wrote occasionally to make inquiries or to give orders.  The day after his evening out was the regular day for Reuben to go to the post office.

So immediately after breakfast Reuben mounted the white cob which he usually rode and set out for Shelton.

He was gone about two hours, and returned with a most perplexed countenance.  Now “the master’s” correspondence had always been a great bother to Reuben.  It took him a long time to spell out the letters and a longer time to indite the answers.  So the arrival of a letter was always sure to unsettle him for a day or two.  Still, that fact did not account for the great disturbance of mind in which he reached home and entered the family sitting-room.

“What’s the matter, Reuben?  Any bad news?” anxiously inquired Hannah.

“N-n-o, not exactly bad news; but a very bad bother,” said Gray, sitting down in the big arm-chair and wiping the perspiration from his heated face.

“What is it, Reuben?” pursued Hannah.

“Where’s Ishmael?” inquired Gray, without attempting to answer her question.

“Working in the garden, of course.  But why can’t you tell me what’s the matter?”

“Botheration is the matter, Hannah, my dear.  Just go call Ishmael to me.”