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"She didn't have no sort er control over Marty." "Huh!" grunted that young man, "she couldn't teach nothin' ter nobody that ol' maid." "But 'most of the girls and boys of Poketown go to school to her, don't they?" asked Janice. "Them whose folks can't send 'em to the Middleboro Academy," admitted her aunt. "Then I'm going up to get acquainted after dinner," announced Janice.

She she ain't married again, is she?" "Married! No no, sir, she ain't married." "Then then See here, boy; what's your name your whole name?" "George Ellis Hobbs. I'm Mr. Hobbs's boy, up to South Middleboro, you know. I'm down here stayin' with Aunt Thankful. She " "Sshh! sshh! Don't talk so loud. So you're Mr. Hobbs's boy, eh? What eh? Oh, yes, yes. You're ma was was Sarah Cahoon, wa'n't she?"

Not two minutes had elapsed, when an answering whoop was heard from the cluster of huts forming the village of Namasket, now the town of Middleboro', and an irregular stream of warriors, headed by Tisquantum in person, came running toward the beleaguered hut.

But later there was another marriage, this time to a person named Hobbs, and there were five little Hobbses. Papa Hobbs worked occasionally, but not often. His wife and Emily worked all the time. The latter had been teaching school in Middleboro, but now it was spring vacation. So when Aunt Thankful suggested the Cape Cod tour of inspection Emily gladly agreed to go.

Kneeling in the road he spun the wheel, and as intently as at Monte Carlo and Palm Beach he had waited for other wheels to determine his fortune, he watched it come to rest. It stopped with the plug pointing back to Middleboro. The scout told himself he was entitled to another trial. Again he spun the wheel. Again the spokes flashed in the sun. Again the puncture rested on the road to Middleboro.

"But supposing," he argued, "they see you first, will they shoot?" The scout waved his hand carelessly. "Of course," he cried. "Then," said the baker, "my horse will run away!" "What of it?" demanded the scout. "Are Middleboro, South Middleboro, Rock, Brockton, and Boston to fall? Are they to be captured because you're afraid of your own horse? They won't shoot real bullets!

"Auntie," she said, "if you and I were superstitious we might think all this, all that we've been through, was what people call a sign, a warning. That is what ever so many South Middleboro people would say." "Humph! if I believed in signs I'd have noticed the weather signs afore we started.

A trail cuts easily into the forest mould. Once well worn there centuries fail to remove it. The paths the Pilgrims trod radiate from Plymouth to a score of places far and near. They tramped to Sandwich and the canal region, to Middleboro, Bridgewater and Duxbury as we know them now, to Boston; sooner or later to all the world.

In August, 1909, Richard and his wife left Mount Kisco for a visit to Mr. and Mrs. Clark at Marion. While there my brother attended and later on wrote an article on the war manoeuvres held at Middleboro, Massachusetts. August 16th, 1909. DEAR MOTHER: We had a splendid day to day.

"I shall have that property," he announced, emphatically. "I may not get it for some time, but I shall get it. I make it a point to get what I go after." Emily, in her letters, those written soon after her arrival in South Middleboro, said nothing concerning her plan, the "secret" which was to cheer Mrs. Barnes' loneliness.