The Birmingham age-herald., 1907-11-24
CHAPTER XII. The PriYet Hedge.

"I am supposed to be like my father" Philip Calmont, the doctors third son, was saying to little Miss Nunsby. "so everybody expects me to run about cry ing, .Ha, ha,' and skipping people on the baclSv'
 |" The eye that mocketh at his father % the ravens of the valley shall pick 1t out" rejoined Miss Nunsby, punctuating with the quick gesture of her pretty hand, which she used to throw the thread the way she wanted 1t to run. Miss Nunsby kept her own father, as well as most of the Healthy Family, in stock ings. To knit came as natural to her as to breathe. And Phil Calmont liked to drop down to the small cottage by the abandoned smithy, which MT. Nunsby oc- cupied, apparently in order to watch her do it. There was a garden behind, and from the back of his fathers orchard Phil had only to cross a couple of fields and open a low-arehed lych-gate with a leather hasp, to find himself in the sum- mer house beside the quiet knitter with the sharp tongue and the helpful heart. Perhaps he went rather too often con- sidering the capacities of Kirktown for gossip. But-he talked mostly about Vida while Miss Nunsby smiled and knitted. He, too. had his hours of philosophy this quiet youth.
 Why do you come here?' Miss Nuns by asked him sometimes, the rest will be over the wall talking to Vda-you know you would far rather be there.'
 Yes" murmured Phil lazily crossing his long legs and plating his hands to- gether, with his head in the hollow of the palms, as he leaned back against the hedge. It was mixed of prevet and thorn. and to reoline upon it unpriclSed meant and ad ty,ap Qtit had had long experience of the Nunsby hedge. He knew it to the last thorn- spine, took things gently, and never kicked against the bricks.
 "Yes, no doubt. They will be talking at her and through her and across her. and all at a time. But would rather come here, and
 Talk about her. put in Miss Nunsby. "Verily I am more than human. But go on-you amuse me. Phil"
 Philip Calmont, nothing 10th, stretched out his legs to their utmost, accommo- dated his head more deeply into the privet hedge with possible spines), and exposed his philosophy.
 Queer place, Kirktown" he said, wav- l ing the point of his mended boot in the air. Incubus is our god, and Jacob
 Romer is his prophet. We all live by the 1 pits: the ministers up'yonder"-he point
 
 called Mount Zion because it was crowned 1 with alternate kirk and manse-"my fa- i ther and all of us get our living, our schooling and colleging, our meat and l drink-and a lot of these-out of Incubus. l Gorm Romer & Co.,, of the Incubus work 1 ings. Your fathers Sunday hat. and the
 bread he eats, the needles you are knit l ting with, the yarn that you toss every moment across your arm to clear the
 ball in the side-pocket of your apron very pretty it is-everything comes from 1 Incubus. Why from Incubus?" l Because we work for Incubus!" said | Miss Nunsby simply.
 Philip, who did the thinking for the Healthy Family. and kept the results to | himself, only nodded. After all that was what it come to. They were set on
 earth to work, and it was no use arguing the matter. Incubus was as far out of ! reach of their complaints as if they had