The cordial relations in the household of Mrs. Malviny Hodge
became much more decided after a little incident that occurred
one morning before breakfast. Mrs. Hodge had not yet risen
from her couch; she had always contended that too early rising
was not good for the complexion. Susan, who had other things to
think about besides complexion, always rose betimes and went to her
work. On this morning, at about sunrise, she was sweeping the store
and readjusting things there generally. Susan was an inveterate
sweeper; she had made a little broom of turkey-quills, and was brushing
out the desk with it. One of the quills being a little sharpened at the
end by constant use, had intruded itself into a crack and forced out
the corner of a paper which had been lodged there. She drew the
whole out, and seeing that it was one of Mr. Lively's letters, as it was
addressed to him, at once handed it to that gentleman, who happened
to be standing by the window outside and had just remarked what a
fine morning it was. Mr. Lively took the letter, wondering how he
could have been so careless as to leave it there. He opened it, looked
at the beginning for a moment, and then at the end; then remarking
that it was all right, and that he was much obliged to Susan, he went
to his office. At breakfast Mr. Lively said that he believed he would
ride to the court-house that day, as he had not been there in some
time, but that he would surely return at night. Mrs. Hodge merely
remarked that she had given orders for a chicken-pie for dinner; but
to-morrow would do as well, she supposed. Oh yes, certainly; or
Mrs. Hodge and Susan might have it all to themselves. Oh no, no;
they could have it to-morrow.

That night when Mr. Lively returned and came into supper, there
was a sight for the eyes of a man who had ridden twenty miles and
gone without his dinner, except a couple of biscuits which Mrs. Hodge
had put with her own hands into his coat-pocket in the morning. On
that supper-table were not only fried eggs, but two sorts of fish, perch
and horny-heads. Mr. Lively had an appetite, and these dishes

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looked and smelt exactly right. Uncle Moses, Aunt Dilcy's husband,
had been made to quit his work for the afternoon for the express
purpose of having those fish for supper. Mrs. Hodge looked at them
and at Mr. Lively. She said nothing, but there was expression in
her countenance.

“Ah, indeed?” inquired Mr. Lively, as he took his seat.

“Yes, indeed,” answered Mrs. Hodge.

Even Susan looked gratified; she had fried them every one. In
spite of his intense satisfaction, Mr. Lively was a little pained that
the ladies should compel him to eat more than as an honest man he
considered his proper share. He insisted and insisted, not only that
Mrs. Hodge, but that Susan should take some; and at last he declared
that if they didn't, he would stop eating himself. He maintained
that people oughtn't to try to kill a person that liked them as well as
he did the present company, by trying to make him eat himself
to death, and that, as for his part, that he wasn't going to do it,
because he felt more like living on in this little world now than he
had ever done. Being thus pressed, she compromised. She agreed
that she would take an egg and a horny-head, or maybe two horny-heads;
but she declared that she wouldn't tech a pearch: they was
for Mr. Lively, and him alone. Susan had to come in that far
also; Mr. Lively insisted upon it. She tried to get off with one
very small little bit of a horny-head; but it was no go. Mr. Lively
maintained that there was enough perch for all, and he made them
both come squarely up.

Oh it was all so nice! Mr. Lively was quite chatty for him. His
visit to the county-town, the ride and the supper, had all enlivened
him up smartly; but after all, he didn't see that the county-town had
any very great advantage over Dukesborough. Dukesborough was
coming along; there was no doubt about that. As for himself, he
would rather live where he was living now than at the county-town, or
indeed any other place he knew of; he hoped to end his days right where
he was. It would have been too indelicate for Mr. Lively to look at
Mrs. Hodge after these words, and so he looked at Susan. Both the
ladies looked down; but it was all so pleasant.

By the time supper was over, as it had been delayed for Mr. Lively's
return, it was getting to be his bed-time; but it didn't look right to be
hurrying off after such a supper as that. Besides, Mr. Lively of late
had been in the habit of lingering in the house a little longer of

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evenings than formerly — no great deal, but a little. On this
occasion it might have been foreseen that he was not going to rush
right away from that society.

“Well,” said Mr. Lively, when he and Mrs. Hodge had taken their
seats before the fireplace, and Susan was clearing away the things,
“Well, they ware fine! I pity them that don't live on any sort of
water-course. Fish air blessings, certain, even when they air small.
Indeed, the little ones air about the best, I believe; because they air
as a general thing always fried brown, and then a person don't have
to be always stopping to pull out the bones. Those we had for
supper ware fried ex-zactly right.”

Mrs. Hodge was a woman who liked appreciation even in small
things. “I'm glad you think so, Mr. Lively. I told Susan to be very
particler about 'em, because I thought you loved to have 'em brown.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Lively, with some emphasis; “always when they
air small and you don't have to stop to pull out the bones.”

“Yes, and you may well say bones,” replied Mrs. Hodge —“fish-bones
in particler. Fish-bones is troublesome, and even dangous
sometimes. My grandfather had a aunt that got one in her throat
outen one o' them big fish they used to have in them times, and it
come nigh killing her at the first offstart; and it never did git out
that anybody ever heerd of. And she used to have a heap of pains
for forty years arfter, and she said she knowed it was that fish-bone,
and that it run up and down all over her; and even when she was on
her dyin bed with the rheumatism, and I don't know how old she war
then, she declared that it was nothin but that fish-bone that was a
killin her.”

“My! my! your grandfather's aunt!” exclaimed Mr. Lively, and
he could not have looked more concerned if it had been his own
grandfather's aunt instead of Mrs. Hodge's who had come to such a
tragical end. But he reflected perhaps that for some time past that
relative had been relieved of her sufferings, and then he looked
towards the table where Susan was rapidly clearing away the things.

“Be in a hurry there, Susan,” said Mrs. Hodge, in a mild but
admonitory tone.

“Yes; fish and such-like's blessins; but yit —” Mrs. Hodge
couldn't quite make it out.

Susan hurried matters, I tell you.

“Oh yes, indeed,” suggested Mr. Lively.

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“Yes,” Mrs. Hodge admitted; “but still fishes and — livin on
water-courses, and — everything o' that kind's not the onliest things
in this world.”

“Oh no, indeed,” hastily replied Mr. Lively. “But still — I
suppose, indeed I think — of course thair must be — and —” But
Mr. Lively at that moment couldn't think of what else there was in
the world.

“Yes, indeed.” Mrs. Hodge, having thus recovered, could proceed
a little further. “Fishes and such-like's blessins, I know; I don't
deny it. Of cose it is to them that loves 'em, and to them I spose it's
very well to live on water-courses. Yit them and everything else is
not all to every person.”

“Oh no, no; by no means.” Mr. Lively would not wish to be so
understood.

“Not all,” continued Mrs. Hodge; “particler that a person might
wish in a vain world. No, fair be it to them that has loved and lost,
and loved and lost again, and might love again once more, and that
forever and eternally!”

Pen cannot describe the touching solemnity with which these words
were uttered. Mr. Lively was extremely embarrassed. He had not
intended to go very far that night; matters were so recent. He looked
very much puzzled, and seemed to be trying to make out how an
innocent remark about water-courses could have led them away so
far into dry land.

“Susan,” he called out confusedly, and looked around. But
Susan had cleared off everything and gone to bed.

Mrs. Hodge waited a moment to see if Mr. Lively intended to avail
himself of this good opportunity of saying anything specially confidential;
but he was too confused to get it out. So she thought she
would venture a remark about the weather that might reassure him.

“It's right cool these nights, Mr. Lively.”

This made Mr. Lively almost jump out of his chair. He had been
remarking only a day before how warm it was for the season, and
according to his feelings there had been no change since that time.
He answered as well as he could:

“No, I don't — yes — it's right cool — that is, it's tolerable cool. I
suppose — that is, I expect it will be quite cool after a while. A —
yes — I think a good rain — and a pretty strong wind from the north-west
now — would — ah, help — and ah —”

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“Yes, indeed,” assisted Mrs. Hodge; “and it's about time that
people war getting ready for winter. Thar isn't anything like people's
bein ready to keep theirselves warm and comfortable in the cold, cold
winter.”

Mrs. Hodge shrugged her shoulders as if winter was just at the
door, and then she hugged herself up nice and tight.

“Yes, oh yes,” answered Mr. Lively, somewhat circularly; “we
all don't know. But still comforts — yes — of course — and especially
in the winter-time.”

Mrs. Hodge looked down, her hands played with a corner of her
pocket-handkerchief, and she thought that she blushed. Mr. Lively,
concluding possibly that he had carried matters far enough for one
evening, rose up and broke away. That night he was more desirous
than ever to make that place his home as long as he lived, if he could;
and he rather believed he could.

Although matters did not advance with the rapidity that might have
been expected, yet it was very plain to Mrs. Hodge, and even to
Susan, that Mr. Lively saw and appreciated the whole situation. Mrs.
Hodge knew that he was a steady and rather a slow man, but persistent
in his purposes, and somewhat peculiar in his ways of compassing
them. He could neither be driven nor too violently pulled. His
growing cheerfulness and the new interest he took in everything about
the premises showed that his expectation was to make that his
permanent home. He even went so far one day as to say that the
house needed repairs, and that it must have them before very long.
Mrs. Hodge and Susan looked at each other and both smiled. Susan
seemed to be gratified about as much as anybody, poor thing; for
of late, Susan seemed to be on some little better ground with her
aunt. Thus it is that a new and very strong feeling towards one
dear object disposes us sometimes to feel kindly towards all.

It was delightful to see how pleasant and affable Mr. Lively could
be; slow as he might be, he was perfectly affable and pleasant. Mrs.
Hodge would have been pleased to see Mr. Lively more ardent; but
she knew that was not his way, and upon the whole she was very well
satisfied.

Matters grew more and more interesting every day. All parties
were perfectly sociable. Improvements were constantly going on in
Mr. Lively's dress. A great box came for him one day from Augusta,
and the next Sunday Mr. Lively came out in a new cloth suit. Both

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Mrs. Hodge and Susan declared at breakfast that he looked ten years
younger; that pleased him highly. It seemed that thoughts upon
marriage had suggested to him the notion of going back to his youth
and living his life over again. But how would you suppose Mrs.
Hodge looked when, after breakfast, Mr. Lively brought in a long
paper bundle, laid it on the table, and then took out and handed to
her one of the finest black silk dress-patterns that had ever appeared
in that neighborhood? — and not only so, but bottons, hooks-and-eyes,
thread, lining, and binding! Nor had that kind-hearted man forgotten
Susan, for he handed her at the same time a very nice white muslin
pattern. “Oh my goodness gracious me, Mr. Lively!” exclaimed
Mrs. Hodge; “I knew it; but — but — still I — I didn't — expect
it.” Susan was overpowered too, but she couldn't express herself
like her Aunt Malviny. But she took the pattern, and blushed all the
way round to the back of her neck. It was Susan's first present.

And now those dresses had to be made up right away. Mr. Lively
required that in the tone of a master, and he intimated that there
were other things in that same box. Mr. Bill Williams was not so
very far wrong when he said that man was a book.

People now began to talk. Already Mr. Bill had hinted to several
persons how his Cousin Malviny appeared to look up to Mr. Lively.
This started inquiry, and the new clothes and youthful looks
convinced everybody that it was so. Mrs. Hodge began to be joked;
and without saying yea or nay, laughed and went on. Susan was
approached; but Susan was a girl, she said, that didn't meddle with
other people's business, and that if people wouldn't ask her any
questions they wouldn't get any lies — a form of denial which in old
times was considered almost as an affirmative. So here they had it.

Matters had come to this stand when Mr. Lively determined to
make a decisive move.