gazing so wistfully into the fire.

"A good smart blowin' up with the belluses would make the green
stick burn most as well as the dry one after a spell. I guess
contentedness is the best bellus for young folks, ef they would only
think so."

"I dare say you are right, Aunty; but I want to try for myself; and
if I fail, I'll come back and follow your advice. Young folks always
have discontented fits, you know. Didn't you when you were a girl?"

"Shouldn't wonder ef I did; but Enos came along, and I forgot 'em."

"My Enos has not come along yet, and never may; so I'm not going to
sit and wait for any man to give me independence, if I can earn it
for myself." And a quick glance at the gruff, gray old man in the
corner plainly betrayed that, in Christie's opinion, Aunt Betsey
made a bad bargain when she exchanged her girlish aspirations for a
man whose soul was in his pocket.

"Jest like her mother, full of hifalutin notions, discontented, and
sot in her own idees. Poor capital to start a fortin' on."

Christie's eye met that of her uncle peering over the top of his
paper with an expression that always tried her patience. Now it was
like a dash of cold water on her enthusiasm, and her face fell as
she asked quickly:

"How do you mean, sir?"