As a natural consequence of Blythe’s long illness when he was the object of their mutual concern, a greater intimacy had been formed between the Rosses and the Van Dorns. Nearly every day Blythe rode over to see his friends, and at least once a week the Rosses accompanied him home for an afternoon with his mother and sisters. Christine had found in Ellen Wilkinson a congenial companion, while John had taken a fancy to the straightforward young Englishman, her husband. As for Alison she was always ready to tease Blythe or to exchange girlish confidences with Laura. One afternoon in May Alison and Christine started over to the Van Dorns’. It was warm, sunny weather and the girls rode slowly, Alison mounted upon Chico and Christine upon another little mustang which her brother had given her in place of Hero, whose loss she still mourned. “We may as well stop and have a word with Hannah Maria,” said Alison, as they drew near the line of worm fence which partly surrounded Bud’s property. “She never will forgive us if we pass her by, for you know she will be sure to see us.” Christine agreed and they turned towards the house. Hannah Maria’s dun-colored sunbonnet was visible before they reached the gate, which hung by one hinge and had to be lifted and set back in place each time it was opened. It was a peculiarity of Hannah Maria’s that her every-day costume was always of an indefinite dust color, and that she blazed forth royally only on high days and holidays. An odd dun-colored calico always clothed her plump form, and her sunbonnet was of the same piece. Where she managed to secure just this shade of brown was always a mystery to the girls. It matched her hair which was invariably wisped up in a tight knot at the back of her head. As usual she was sitting on the door-step occupied with her snuff stick, for she shared the habit of many of her neighbors who were devoted to the practice known as rubbing snuff. In a weedy flower-bed under the window several hens had scratched hollows in which they were comfortably resting; three cats were curled up asleep on a bench; a couple of hounds stretched their lank lengths upon the gallery floor. Alison, with her whip, poked a curly-tailed piglet which lay across her path, and which went off with a resentful squeal at being thus ruthlessly routed. Hannah Maria looked up from the shade of her sunbonnet as the girls came up. “Now I just knew somebody’d come this afternoon,” she said, giving a slap to the hound which, roused by the intruders, began to growl. “Quit that, Pete, don’t you know yer friends when ye see ’em?” she interjected. “Come up, gals. I reckon it’s cooler on the gallery, but I always set on the steps when I’m by myself; it seems as if it wasn’t so lonesome and then I don’t miss anybody goin’ by. You’ll stay an’ take supper, won’t ye?”