At this point in her meditations Mrs. Black became aware of an insistent voice hailing her from the other side of the picket fence. It was Mrs. Daggett, her large fair face flushed with the exertion of hurrying down the walk leading from Mrs. Whittle’s house. “Some of us ladies has been clearing up after the fair,” she explained, as she joined Mrs. Solomon Black. “It didn’t seem no more than right; for even if Ann Whittle doesn’t use her parlor, on account of not having it furnished up, she wants it broom-clean. My! You’d ought to have seen the muss we swept out.” “I’d have been glad to help,” said Mrs. Black stiffly; “but what with it being my day to go over to Grenoble, and my boarders t’ cook for and all—” “Oh, we didn’t expect you,” said Abby Daggett tranquilly. “There was enough of us to do everything.” She beamed warmly upon Mrs. Black. “Us ladies was saying we’d all better give you a rising vote of thanks for bringing that sweet Miss Orr to the fair. Why, ’twas a real success after all; we took in two hundred and forty-seven dollars and twenty-nine cents. Ain’t that splendid?” Mrs. Black nodded. She felt suddenly proud of her share in this success. “I guess she wouldn’t have come to the fair if I hadn’t told her about it,” she admitted. “She only come to my house yesterd’y morning.” “In an auto?” inquired Abby Daggett eagerly. “Yes,” nodded Mrs. Black. “I told her I could bring her over in the wagon just as well as not; but she said she had the man all engaged. I told her we was going to have a fair, and she said right off she wanted to come.” Abby Daggett laid her warm plump hand on Mrs. Black’s arm. “I dunno when I’ve took such a fancy to anybody at first sight,” she said musingly. “She’s what I call a real sweet girl. I’m just going to love her, I know.” She gazed beseechingly at Mrs. Solomon Black. “Mebbe you’ll think it’s just gossipy curiosity; but I _would_ like to know where that girl come from, and who her folks was, and how she happened to come to Brookville. I s’pose you know all about her; don’t you?” Mrs. Solomon Black coughed slightly. She was aware of the distinction she had already acquired in the eyes of Brookville from the mere fact of Lydia Orr’s presence in her house. “If I do,” she began cautiously, “I don’t know as it’s for me to say.” “Don’t fer pity’s sake think I’m nosey,” besought Abby Daggett almost tearfully. “You know I ain’t that kind; but I don’t see how folks is going to help being interested in a sweet pretty girl like Miss Orr, and her coming so unexpected. And you know there’s them that’ll invent things that ain’t true, if they don’t hear the facts.” “She’s from Boston,” said Mrs. Solomon Black grudgingly. “You can tell Lois Daggett that much, if she’s getting anxious.” Mrs. Daggett’s large face crimsoned. She was one of those soft, easily hurt persons whose blushes bring tears. She sniffed a little and raised her handkerchief to her eyes. “I was afraid you’d—”