"Our circle is broadening," said old Mr. Colesworth, at supper that evening. "Come! I have a three-handed counter for cribbage. Shall we take Mrs. Castle into our game, Mr. Bray?"
"If she will so honor us," agreed the girls' father, bowing to the little old lady.
"Well! that's hearty of you," said the brisk Mrs. Castle. "I'll postpone beginning knitting my son a pair of socks that he'd never wear, until to-morrow."
For she had actually brought along with her knitting needles and a hank of grey yarn. It grew into a nightly occurrence, this three-handed cribbage game. When Mr. Somers had no lessons to "get up," or no examination papers to mark, he spent the evening with Lyddy and 'Phemie. He even helped with the dish-wiping and helped to bring in the wood for the morning fires.
Fire was laid in the three chambers, as well as the dining-room, to light on cold mornings, or on damp days; Lucas had spent a couple more days in chopping wood. But as the season advanced there was less and less need of these in the sleeping rooms.
There were, of course, wet and gloomy days, when the old folks were glad to sit over the dining-room fire, the elements forbidding outdoors to them. But they kept cheerful. And not a little of this cheerfulness was spread by Lyddy and 'Phemie. The older girl's thoughtfulness for others made her much beloved, while 'Phemie's high spirits were contagious.
On Saturday, when Harris Colesworth arrived from town to remain over Sunday, Hillcrest was indeed a lively place. This very self-possessed young man took a pleasant interest in everything that went on about the house and farm. Lyddy was still inclined to snub him--only, he wouldn't be snubbed. He did not force his attentions upon her; but while he was at Hillcrest it seemed to Lyddy as though he was right at her elbow all the time.
"He pervades the whole place," she complained to 'Phemie. "Why--he's under foot, like a kitten!"
"Huh!" exclaimed the younger sister. "He's hanging about you no more than the school teacher--and Mr. Somers has the best chance, too."
"Oh, don't be a grump! Mr. Colesworth is ever so nice. He's worth any _two_ of your Somerses, too!"
And at that Lyddy became so indignant that she would not speak to her sister for the rest of the day. But _that_ did not solve the problem. There was Harris Colesworth, always doing something for her, ready to do her bidding at any time, his words cheerful, his looks smiling, and, as Lyddy declared in her own mind, "utterly unable to keep his place."