taught good manners, if he was a tree-agent.

"Excuse me, lady," he said. "Is this the road to Rome?"

Narcissa started violently, and came out of her dream. She had actually been dressed in the green velvet, and was fastening the last gold button, ready to step into the chariot that was waiting for her,—she loved the word chariot, though the pictures in the Bible made her feel uncertain about the manner of riding in one,—and to drive along the road, the road to Rome. How strange that at this very moment some one should ask about the road!

She raised her eyes, still shining with the dream-light, and looked attentively at the stranger.

"Yes, sir," she answered. "This is the road,—the road to Rome. But it's a long way from here," she added, rousing herself, and rising from her seat. "Shoo! 8 go away, now;" and she waved a signal of dismissal with her apron which the turkeys understood, and at sight of which they withdrew, not without angry cluckings and gobblings directed at the disturber of their evening meal.

8

"Won't you set down and rest a spell? It's ben real hot to-day, though it's some cooler now."

"It has so!" assented the young man, taking off his hat again to wipe his brow, and dropping his satchel on the doorstep.

"I should be pleased to set a few minutes, if I'm not intruding. And do you suppose I could have a drink of water, if it wouldn't be too much trouble?"

Narcissa went away without a word, and brought back the water, ice-cold and clear as crystal, in a queer brown mug with a twisted handle, and an inscription in white letters.

"I'm sorry I haven't got a glass," she said. "But the water is good."

The young man drank deeply, and then looked curiously at the mug. "I'd rather have this than a glass," he said. "It's quite a curiosity, ain't it? 'Be Merry!' Well, that's a good sentiment, I'm sure. Thank you, lady. I'm ever so much obliged."

"You no need to," responded Narcissa, civilly.

"I—I don't suppose you want any trees or plants to set out, do you?" said the stranger. "I am travelling for a house near Portland, and I've got some first-rate things,—real chances, I call 'em."

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