oftentimes muttering inaudible things that, however, had the tone
of invective; and accompanied, as these mutterings were, with a
menacing shake of his burley head, old Bill finally grew to be an
acquaintance few desired.

Mrs. Norris showed equal, though not similar, signs of mental
disturbance; for, womanlike, she clothed her worry in placidity and
silence. Her kindly face became drawn and lined; she laughed less
frequently. She never went "neighboring" or "buggy-riding" with
old Bill now. But the trim farmhouse was just as spotless, just as
beautifully kept, the cooking just as wholesome and homelike, the
linen as white, the garden as green, the chickens as fat, the geese
as noisy, as in the days when her eyes were less grave and her lips
unknown to sighs. And what was it all about but the simple matter
of a marriage--Sam's marriage? Sam, the big, genial, curly-headed
only son of the house of Norris, who saw fit to take unto himself as
a life partner tiny, delicate, college-bred Della Kennedy, who
taught school over on the Sixth Concession, and knew more about
making muslin shirtwaists than cooking for the threshers, could
quote from all the mental and moral philosophers, could wrestle with
French and Latin verbs, and had memorized half the things Tennyson
and Emerson had ever written, but could not milk a cow or churn up
a week's supply of butter if the executioner stood ready with his
axe to chop off her pretty yellow mop of a head in case she failed.
How old Billy stormed when Sam started "keeping company" with her!

"Nice young goslin' fer you to be a-goin' with!" he scowled when
Sam would betake himself towards the red gate every evening after
chores were done. "Nice gal fer you to bring home to help yer
mother; all she'll do is to play May Queen and have the hull lot of