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lane leading from Matthew Watson's to the creek was a short but very winding one, and for much of the way well shaded by thrifty trees. A more direct route might have been laid out without the loss of any tillable or pasture land. Years ago, when the house was built, there had been some discussion concerning this lane, and Matthew now regretted at times that he had yielded to others, for he knew it to be a common saying among his worldly neighbors that the lane was as crooked as its owner. But Matthew's wife had taken matters in hand at the critical moment and astonished her overbearing husband by a firmness that was before then unsuspected. All attractiveness should not be sacrificed to the selfish convenience of the men. The landscape, as she saw it from the single window of her little parlor