upon him, like the November fog, and the straggle it cost him to maintain a show of composure, mach less of gaiety, when the teamster, pointing with his long whip, remarked, Yonder's your house, Mrs. Hale!"
Bessy leaned forward eagerly, as did Mark.
"Where?" asked both.
"Just 'cross that field, in that clump of trees."
"That!" said Bessy, incrednlons. *' Mark! can it be?"
It must be, dear. Mr. Paxton told me that he knew the place, and had heard through Mr. Sancroft, that we had rented it."
" It ain't so sniptious as yon expected, I reckon," said the wagoner. "It's pretty 'nough situation, bat it may be, you'll find the house sort o' out of order. Mr. Argyle, he built it for his overseer, and the man lived in it six months, or so. Then Mr. Argyle took it into his head that it was too far off from his place, and Mr. Frisbie's old mother, who kept house for him died, so he'd no reason to stay there any longer, and was willin' to do what his employer wanted, which was, to have everything under his own eye. Let him alone for 'making every edge cut,' as my ole woman says. And Mr. Sancroft — his agent — he's just as sharp close. Maybe, as you are a Yankee, he'll favor you. He came from Connecticut — where they make clocks, you know."
I hope I shall need no favoring at his hands!" returned Mark, with some stiffness. Then ashamed of his boastful pride, he continued, pleasantly, " I guess we shall not quarrel, if I pay my rent, and don't worry him for too many repairs."
"Oh! you'll get on!" But the honest face "reckoned" there might be other causes of dissatisfaction.
"The old gentleman — Mr. Argyle is mighty well off," he said, sheering away from the agent. " He owns nigh upon two thousand acres of land, and niggers more'n enough to work it, and has money a plenty besides, they say. But for all that, a shillin' piece looks as big to him as it does to you or me. His wife was
