Margaret Rushleigh's letter was full of delight, and eagerness, and anticipation. She and Paul had been so charmed with Kinnicutt and Lakeside; and there had happened to be a furnished house to let for the season close by the Morrises, and they had persuaded papa to take it. They were tired of the seashore, and Conway was getting crowded to death. They wanted a real summer in the country. And then this had turned up about the mills! Perhaps, now, her father would build, and they should come up every year. Perhaps Paul would stay altogether, and superintend. Perhaps--anything! It was all a delightful chaos of possibilities; with this thing certain, that she and Faith would be together for the next four months in the glorious summer shine and bloom. Miss Gartney's wedding was simple. The stateliness and show were all reserved for Madison Square. Mr. Armstrong pronounced the solemn words, in the shaded summer parlor, with the door open into the sweeter and stiller shade without. Faith stood by her sister's side, in fair, white robes, and Mr. Robert Selmore was groomsman to his brother. A few especial friends from Mishaumok and Lakeside were present to witness the ceremony. And then there was a kissing--a hand-shaking--a well-wishing--a going out to the simple but elegantly arranged collation--a disappearance of the bride to put on traveling array--a carriage at the door--smiles, tears, and good-bys--Mr., and Mrs., and Mr. Robert Selmore were off to meet the Western train--and all was over. Mrs. Etherege remained a few days longer at Cross Corners. As Mis' Battis judiciously remarked, "after a weddin' or a funeral, there ought to be somebody to stay a while and cheer up the mourners." This visit, that had been so full of happenings, was to have a strange occurrence still to mark it, before all fell again into the usual order. Aunt Etherege was to go on Thursday. On Wednesday, the three ladies sat together in the cool, open parlor, where Mr. Armstrong, walking over from the Old House, had joined them. He had the July number of the _Mishaumok_ in his hand, and a finger between the fresh-cut leaves at a poem he would read them. Just as he had finished the last stanza, amidst a hush of the room that paid tribute to the beauty of the lines and his perfect rendering of them, wheels came round from the high road into the lane. "It is Mr. Gartney come back from Sedgely," said Aunt Etherege, looking from her window, between the blinds. "Whom on earth has he picked up to bring with him?" A thin, angular figure of a woman, destitute of crinoline, wearing big boots, and a bonnet that ignored the fashion, and carrying in her hand a black enameled leather bag, was alighting as she spoke, at the gate. "Mother!" said Faith, leaning forward, and glancing out, also, "it looks like--it is--Nurse Sampson!" And she put her work hastily from her lap, and rose to go out at the side door, to meet and welcome her.