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TKe Old Homestead
ON a little rise of ground in the heart of the New Hampshire hills stood staunchly an old New England farmhouse: square, white, unadorned, sturdy as the oaks and picturesque as the elms that grew around it. _ It dominated the sloping countryside like a single glowing diamond in folds of jeweler's plush. The house, known affectionately as "the old homestead," belonged to Joshua Whitcomb — "Uncle Josh," he was, to all the neighbors and friends for miles around.
Under the friendly shade of the broad back porch a woman sat shelling pease, placidly and uninterruptedly. A big grey cat drowsed in the sun on the steps. The familiar farmyard sounds came softly to her ears. Bees droned lazily in the clover in the yard. The regular thud of a butter churn back in the spotless kitchen contributed further to the peace and plenty that brooded over the place. Fertile fields, a full larder, contented hearts, under the summer sky ! It was knee-deep in June.
"My land sakes alive !" exclaimed the woman suddenly, springing to her feet but clutching thriftily the pan of newly shelled pease. "You did surprise a body ! Cy Prime, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, creeping around the corner like that. And you too, Seth Perkins.
Novelized by permission from the Paramount production adapted from the Denman Thompson play by Perley Poore Sheehan and Frank Woods, and from the scenario by Julien Josephson. Copyright, 1922, by Famous Players-Lasky Corporation. All rights reserved.
I do declare, there's no peace for a woman, even in her own home."
Two middle-aged gentlemen insinuated themselves into full view from around either corner of the big house and approached the indignant woman in a somewhat abashed frame of mind.
"Now Miss Matilda," spoke up Seth, the elder of the two elderly admirers, "we jest come around to pass the time of day. Leastways I did, and that ornery skinflint, Cy, tagged along after me."
"No such a thing. Miss Matilda !" cried Cy in a huff. "I started first."
"Now you boys stop your fighting," interrupted Matilda Whitcomb in a mollified and soothing voice, "and you can stay for supper."
Forthwith the two elderly gallants seated themselves on the top step with transparent attempts to conceal their satisfaction at the word "boys."
They had been courting the sister of Uncle Josh for nearly thirty years now and were still bitter rivals. The lady herself had no intention of marrying anybody, but this she kept to herself and got what enjoyment she could out of their prolonged tho ardent wooing. Life flowed on at a serene and even pace for all of them with much
Down at the end of the cow pasture where the Httle brook widened out to a shallow pool, sat the other two members of the household: Ann, an adopted daughter, and Reuben, son of Josh. . . They were perched precariously on top of the rail fence "that kept the sheep from the meadow, and the cows from the corn"
65 PAG
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