"Such racing and running! You really must have better regard for the day." Preparations for breakfast went on in a subdued manner, and we were sitting at table rather quietly when a caller appeared at the door--Mrs.
Rufus Sylvester, who lived about a mile from us.

Her face wore a look of anxiety.
"Squire," she exclaimed, "I implore you to come over and say something to Rufus! He's terrible downcast this morning.

He went out to the barn, but he hasn't milked, nor done his chores.

He's settin' out there with his face in his hands, groanin'.

I'm afraid, Squire, he may try to take his own life!" The old Squire rose from the table and led Mrs.Sylvester into the sitting-room; grandmother followed them and carefully shut the door behind her.