Mrs. Pogram was one of the first to call upon the bride. Enveloped in a black shawl, and moving with heavy deliberation, the mournful lady walked up the path bordered with fragrant pinks, and looked with lugubrious but appreciative eyes about the sunny garden of the rock-bound cottage. Betsy saw her coming, and opened the door. “That’s right, Mrs. Pogram. This is neighborly,” she said. The visitor regarded her with doleful curiosity, examining her gingham dress and white apron, and the smooth arrangement of her trim head, with approval. “You look awfully well, Betsy,” she said. “Will you come in, or do you like to sit out here in the sunshine?” Mrs. Pogram sniffed. “The grass is kind o’ damp, I guess,” she objected. “Perhaps it is,” said Betsy. “Come in, then. Before another summer we’re goin’ to have a real nice veranda all across the front.” “How you talk!” returned the caller, following her inside and accepting a cushioned rocker. “It sounds good to hear of anybody prosperin’. I haven’t scarcely got my breath since I heard o’ your marriage. And they say you wasn’t married in Fairport. They say you took the boat and went off and had a preacher from Mere Point row out with a witness and get aboard and marry you, ’cause Hiram wanted the knot tied on the sea; said he was goin’ to have a sailor’s knot and make a sure thing of it. And then I heard you all danced a hornpipe!” Betsy laughed into the curious face with its down-drawn lips. “What a good time somebody had spinnin’ that yarn,” she said. “Now tell me about yourself, Mrs. Pogram.” “It looks awful comfortable here,” declared the visitor wistfully. “I didn’t know as you and Hiram was goin’ to get married.” “Well, you see we did. I’m your neighbor now, for good.” “’Tis good, Betsy. ’Tis so.” The visitor rocked as she inspected. Her gloomy garb and countenance in the cheerful room gave an effect as of a portly raven in a solarium. “If you’d ’a’ give folks some warnin’,” she went on, “you’d ’a’ had presents from your well-wishers and old friends. Why was you so suddent, Betsy?” The hostess directed a one-sided smile toward the open window, near which she was sitting. “Sometimes things that seem sudden have been a long time growin’,” she said. “I s’pose so. I think a sight of you,” declared the visitor with a sniff. “I’d like nothin’ better’n to give you a spoon if I thought there was any hope o’ Loomis not noticin’ it; but Loomis is goin’ to get married himself, and he’s more’n ever set on keepin’ the estate together. I’ve been thinkin’ a whole lot about it, ’cause I’ve decided that when he’s got his own home I’d ruther make a division. I’d ruther have less and not be pestered.” “I would, too,” said Betsy. “And if that time ever comes, you can count on me for a spoon.” “Thank you,” returned the bride. “Don’t worry about it, Mrs. Pogram. I think even more of the will than the deed.”