While the threading was in process, Miss Almeria was advising with Mr. Jordano in low tones, as to the precise wording of the item which was to reveal to Cyrus at large the advent of Miss Johanna Ross. He had already, the evening before, submitted to her his account of Kitty's arrival, a piece of writing of which he was modestly proud. It began, "Flushed with oriflammes was the western sky, and Old Sol still shed his cheering ray over Cyrus and environs----" At this moment the door flew open, and Mrs. Sharpe appeared, with Cissy close behind her. Well! they _did_ look like an old vixen and a young one, there was no doubt about it, though of course Tom ought not to have said it. "Good-evenin', all!" Mrs. Sharpe was panting, as if she had hurried. "I thought I'd make a run-in: I calc'lated I should find you here, Almeria 'n' Egeria. I want to know if you've heard----" her voice failed her, and she sat down, fanning herself with the "cloud" she had pulled off her head. "I hastened too much," she panted. "I got to get my breath!" "I don't know as anybody's in a hurry, Mis' Sharpe!" Mr. Mallow's tone was less cordial than usual. He did not like Mrs. Sharpe, or her "run-ins." He didn't see, he had confided to Miss Egeria, why a person should have no privation just because he thought fit to keep a hotel. "It isn't as if she was a guest," he said, "paying or invited." The rest of the company regarded the newcomers with mingled disfavor and curiosity. "What is it, Cissy?" Mrs. Wibird asked, the latter sentiment overcoming the former. "Why," began Cissy, nothing loth; "Miss Johanna----" "Now you hush up, Cissy!" said her mother, sharply. "You told over to Jebuses, and I'm going to tell here. Johanna Ross has come home!" she announced, with an air of dramatic triumph. "She came this afternoon. I saw her with these eyes." She indicated a pair--well, perhaps not exactly a pair--of yellowish eyes, decidedly too near together for beauty. "We are aware of that!" replied Mr. Mallow majestically. Sitting with his needle poised in air, his knees rather wide apart, to support the big basket firmly and prevent further "cat's trophy," he looked like a mild and rosy Rhadamanthus about to give judgment. "Oh, you are! Some one got ahead of me!" Mrs. Sharpe darted a suspicious glance round the friendly circle. "Well, do you know what she is up to? That--that _stay-away_--her that Cyrus isn't good enough for, that wouldn't attend her own brother's funeral because she was too stuck-up--do you know what has come to her in judgment? She has come back to Cyrus because she was _obliged_ to! she has come back to saddle herself on her brother's child, that she has neglected ever since she was born; she has _taken to her bed_, and there she is to remain. Yes, Mr. Mallow! yes, girls! Mr. Jordano, you can put it in the paper, if you're a mind to. Miss Johanna Ross, the fine New York lady who shook the dust of Cyrus off her feet, is a _bedridden invalid_!"