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Rh to them to be of less importance than I was in my boyhood, when I had a pony, I can't help it, and I am sure I don't want to. Frankly, to use my mother's old phrase, I don't care a cotton hat for their opinion—good, bad, or indifferent. It is this, I think, which you leave out of your calculation."

Miss Sabrina had listened, with the Book opened only by a finger's width. The elaborate irony of her nephew's words had escaped her, but she saw a gleam of hope in his willingness to discuss the matter at all.

"But then this is the home o' the Fairchilds; the fam'ly belongs to Dearborn Caounty; father was allus spoken of ez Seth Fairchild o' Dearborn, jis' as much ez—ez Silas Wright o' Dutchess."

"Of course that last is a powerful argument," said Albert with a furtive smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "But, after all, the county-family idea doesn't seem to attract me much. Why, aunt, do you know that your grandfather Roger was a journeyman shoemaker, who walked all the way here from Providence? There was nothing incongruous in his son becoming a Senator. Very well; if you have a state of society where sudden elevations of this sort occur, there will inevitably be corresponding descents just as lean streaks alternate with fat in the bacon of commerce. The Fairchilds went up—they come down. They have exhausted the soil. Do you see?"

"Nao! I don't see a bit! 'N' I b'lieve at heart you 're jis' ez praoud ez I be!"

"Proud? Yes! Proud of myself, proud of my practice, proud of my position. But proud because three or four hundred dull countrymen, seeing my cows sleek, my harness glossy, my farm well in order, and knowing that my grandfather had been a State Senator, would consider me a 'likely' man—no, not at all."

Albert rose at this to go, and added, as he turned the door-knob:

"As soon as he's equal to it, Aunt Sabrina, I'll get father to go over his affairs with me, and I'll try and straighten them out a trifle. I dare say we can find some way out of the muddle."

"But yeh won't take up the thing yerself? Yeh won't dew what I wanted yeh tew?"

The lawyer smiled, and said: "What really? Come here and be a farmer?"

Miss Sabrina had risen, too, and came toward her nephew. "No," she said, "not a farmer. Be a country gentleman, 'n'—'n'—a Congressman!"

Albert smiled again, and left the room. He smiled to himself going down the stairs, and narrowly escaped forgetting to change his expression of countenance when he entered the living room, where were sitting people who had not entirely forgotten the fact that it was a house of mourning.

For Albert had a highly interesting idea in his mind, both interesting and diverting. Curiously enough he had begun developing it from the moment when his aunt first disclosed her ambition for him. At the last moment, in a blind way she had suggested the first political office that entered her mind as an added bribe. She could not know that her astute nephew had, from the first suggestion of her plan, been trying to remember whether it was Jay and Adams Counties, or Jay and Morgan, that were associated with Dearborn in the Congressional District; or that, when she finally in despair said, "Be a country gentleman and a Congressman," his brain had already turned over a dozen projects in as many seconds, every one Congressional.

the early supper of stale bread, saltless butter, dark dried apple-sauce, and chippy cake had been disposed of, Lemuel returned to his rocking-chair by the stove, Aunt Sabrina and Isabel took seats, each at a window, and read by the fading light, and Albert put on his hat, lighted a cigar, and went out. His brother John stood smoking a pipe in the yard, leaning against the high well-curb, his hands deep in his pantaloons pockets, and his feet planted far to the front and wide apart. Seth was coming from the barns toward the well, with a bucket in his hand. Albert