The two friends were very comfortable together; the successive cigars burnt themselves out slowly, and the light of the great lamp was bright in the room.  Here and there a tinge of red shone out on the backs of the books that stood close together in the high cases.  There was an old engraving or two, and in one corner a solemn bronze figure of Dante, thin and angular, as if he had risen from his coffin to take a last look at this world.  Marilla had often spoken of him disrespectfully, and had suggested many other ornaments which might be brought to take his place, but the doctor had never acted upon her suggestions.  From the corner of one book-case there hung a huge wasp’s nest, and over the mantel-shelf, which was only wide enough for some cigar boxes and a little clock and a few vials of medicines, was a rack where three or four riding whips and a curious silver bit and some long-stemmed pipes found unmolested quarters; and in one corner were some walking sticks and a fishing rod or two which had a very ancient unused look.  There was a portrait of Dr. Leslie’s grandfather opposite the fire-place; a good-humored looking old gentleman who had been the most famous of the Oldfields ministers.  The study-table was wide and long, but it was well covered with a miscellaneous array of its owner’s smaller possessions, and the quick-eyed visitor smiled as he caught sight of Nan’s new copy of Miss Edgeworth’s “Parent’s Assistant” lying open and face downward on the top of an instrument case.

Marilla did not hear the doctor and his guest tramp up to bed until very late at night, and though she had tried to keep awake she had been obliged to take a nap first and then wake up again to get the benefit of such an aggravating occasion.  “I’m not going to fret myself trying to make one of my baked omelets in the morning,” she assured herself, “they’ll keep breakfast waiting three quarters of an hour, and it would fall flat sure’s the world, and the doctor’s got to ride to all p’ints of the compass to-morrow, too.”

X

ACROSS THE STREET

It would be difficult to say why the village of Oldfields should have been placed in the least attractive part of the township, if one were not somewhat familiar with the law of growth of country communities.  The first settlers, being pious kindred of the Pilgrims, were mindful of the necessity of a meeting-house, and the place for it was chosen with reference to the convenience of most of the worshipers.  Then the parson was given a parsonage and a tract of glebe land somewhere in the vicinity of his pulpit, and since this was the centre of social attraction, the blacksmith built his shop at the nearest cross-road.  And when some enterprising citizen became possessed of an idea that there were traders enough toiling to and fro on the rough highways to the nearest larger village to make it worth his while to be an interceptor,