if only his grandfather could hear this, one of the funniest and noisiest songs in the world, perhaps he would come right down stairs.  But his father laughed away the suggestion, saying that the old gentleman had no ear for music; which, of course, was a joke, for he had two, like any person.

Clytemnestra, too, was at first strangely cool to the incomparable father, though at last she proved not wholly insensible to his charm, providing for his refection her very choicest cake and the last tumbler of crab-apple jelly.  She began to suspect that a man of manners so engaging must have good in him, and she gave him at parting the tracts of “The Dying Drummer Boy” and “Sinner, what if You Die To-day?” for which he professed warm gratitude.

The little boy afterward saw his perfect father hand these very tracts to Milo Barrus, when they met him on the street, saying, “Here, Barrus, get your soul saved while you wait!” Then they laughed together.

The little boy wondered if this meant that Milo Barrus had come to the Feet, or been born again, or something.  Or if it meant that his father also spelled God with a little g.  He did not think of it, however, until it was too late to ask.

The flawless father went away at the end of the week, “over the County Fair circuit, selling Chief White Cloud’s Great Indian Remedy,” the little boy heard him tell Clytie.  Also he heard his grandfather say to Clytie, “Thank God, not for another year!”

The little boy liked Nancy better than ever after that, because she had liked his father so much, saying he was exactly like a prince, giving pennies and nickels to everybody and being so handsome and big and grand.  She wished her own Uncle Doctor could be as beautiful and great; and the little boy was generous enough to wish that his own plain grandfather might be almost as fine.

CHAPTER VII

THE SUPERLATIVE COUSIN BILL J.

A splendid new interest had now come into the household in the person of one whom Clytemnestra had so often named as Cousin Bill J. Grandfather Delcher having been ordered south for the winter by Dr. Crealock, Cousin Bill J., upon Clytie’s recommendation, was imported from up Fredonia way to look after the cow and be a man about the place.  Clytie assured Grandfather Delcher that Cousin Bill J. had “never uttered an oath, though he’s been around horses all his life!” This made him at once an object of interest to the little boy, though doubtless he failed to appraise the restraint at anything like its true value.  It had sufficed Grandfather Delcher, however, and Cousin Bill J., securing leave of absence from the livery-stable in Fredonia, arrived the day the old man left, making a double excitement for the household.