“To stay on a farm for a sort of vacation.”

Her face brightened.

“Goin’ to take a real vacation, be you?”

He laughed.

“Oh, I don’t have to work very hard, Phrasie.  You know I get out a good deal.  I just thought—­I just thought I’d like to—­sleep in the country —­for a while.”

“Well,” answered Euphrasia, “I guess if you’ve took the notion, you’ve got to go.  It was that way with your mother before you.  I’ve seen her leave the house on a bright Sabbath half an hour before meetin’ to be gone the whole day, and Hilary and all the ministers in town couldn’t stop her.”

“I’ll drop in once in a while to see you, Phrasie.  I’ll be at Jabe Jenney’s.”

“Jabe’s is not more than three or four miles from Flint’s place,” Euphrasia remarked.

“I’ve thought of that,” said Austen.

“You’d thought of it!”

Austen coloured.

“The distance is nothing,” he said quickly, “with Pepper.”

“And you’ll come and see me?” asked Euphrasia.

“If you’ll do something for me,” he said.

“I always do what you want, Austen.  You know I’m not able to refuse you.”

He laid his hands on her shoulders.

“You’ll promise?” he asked.

“I’ll promise,” said Euphrasia, solemnly.

He was silent for a moment, looking down at her.

“I want you to promise to stay here and take care of the Judge.”

Fright crept into her eyes, but his own were smiling, reassuring.

“Take care of him!” she cried, the very mention of Hilary raising the pitch of her voice.  “I guess I’ll have to.  Haven’t I took care of him nigh on forty years, and small thanks and recompense I get for it except when you’re here.  I’ve wore out my life takin’ care of him” (more gently).  “What do you mean by makin’ me promise such a thing, Austen?”

“Well,” said Austen, slowly, “the Judge is worried now.  Things are not going as smoothly with him as usual.”

“Money?” demanded Euphrasia.  “He ain’t lost money, has he?”

A light began to dance in Austen’s eyes in spite of the weight within him.

“Now, Phrasie,” he said, lifting her chin a little, “you know you don’t care any more about money than I do.”

“Lord help me,” she exclaimed, “Lord help me if I didn’t!  And as long as you don’t care for it, and no sense can be knocked into your head about it, I hope you’ll marry somebody that does know the value of it.  If Hilary was to lose what he has now, before it comes rightly to you, he’d ought to be put in jail.”

Austen laughed, and shook his head.

“Phrasie, the Lord did you a grave injustice when he didn’t make you a man, but I suppose he’ll give you a recompense hereafter.  No, I believe I am safe in saying that the Judge’s securities are still secure.  Not that I really know—­or care—­” (shakes of the head from Euphrasia).  “Poor old Judge!  Worse things than finance are troubling him now.”