Before many weeks had passed, Hetty was forced to admit that Jim was partly in the right. Neighbor after neighbor, under the guise of a friendly interest in the baby, took occasion to go over all the details of the first baby's life and death; and there was, in their manner to Sally, a certain new and pitying condescension which filled Hetty with wrath. "What a mercy 'tis, 'tis a boy," said one visitor sanctimoniously to Hetty, as they left Sally's room together. Hetty turned upon her like lightning. "I'd like to know what you mean by that," she said sharply. The woman hesitated, and at last said: "Why you know, of course, such things are not so much consequence to men." "Such things as what?" said Hetty, bluntly. "I don't understand you." When at last her visitor put her meaning into unmistakable words, Hetty wheeled (they were walking down the long pine-shaded avenue together); stood still; and folding her arms on her bosom said: "There! that was what I wanted. I thought if you were driven to putting it into plain English, perhaps you'd see how abominable it was to think it." "No, no, you needn't try to smooth it down," she continued, interrupting her guest's efforts to mollify her by a few deprecating words. "You can't unsay it, now it's said; and saying it's no worse than thinking it. I don't envy you your thoughts, though. I've always stood up for Sally, and I always shall, and anybody that is stupid enough to suppose, because I stand up for her, I justify what she did that was wrong, is welcome: I don't care. Sally is a good, patient, loving woman to-day; I don't know anybody more so: I, for one, respect her. I wish I could be half as patient;" and Hetty stooped, and, picking up a handful of the pine-needles with which the road was thickly strewn, crumbled them up fiercely in her hands, and tossing the dust high in the air, exclaimed: "I wouldn't give that for the character of any woman that can't believe in another woman's having thoroughly repented of having done wrong." "Oh! nobody doubts that Sally has repented," said the embarrassed visitor. "Oh, they don't?" said Hetty, in a sarcastic tone; "well then I'd like to ask them what they mean by treating her as they do. I'd like to ask them what the Lord does to sinners that repent. He says they are to come and be with him in Heaven, I believe; and I'd like to know whether after He's taken them to Heaven, they're going to be reminded every minute of all the sins they've repented of. Oh, but I've no patience with it!"