"Why, grandma!" she exclaimed, as holding up her long skirt, she bounded into the house, and nearly upset the old lady before she was aware of her presence. "Where in the world did you come from? Isn’t it pleasant and nice out here?" and throwing off her hat, Jessie sat down by the window to cool herself after her rapid ride. "Why, grandma, you are as cross as two sticks," she said, when Aunt Debby had left the room, and grandma replied: "That’s a very lady-like expression. Learned it of Mr. Marshall, I suppose." "No, I didn’t," returned Jessie. "I learned it of Will Bellenger when he was here. It’s his favorite expression. Did he bring you my note?" "Certainly; and I’ve come down to see what the attraction is which keeps you here so contentedly." "Oh, it’s so nice," returned Jessie, and Mrs. Bartow rejoined: "I should think it was. Who ever heard of a bed in the parlor now-a-days?" and she cast a rueful glance at the snowy mountain in the corner. "That’s a little out of date, I know," answered Jessie; "but the house is rather small, and they keep the spare bed in here for such visitors as you are. The sheets are all of Aunt Debby’s make, she spun the linen on a wheel that treads so funny. Did you ever see a little wheel, grandma?" The question reminded Mrs. Bartow of Patty Loomis and the three Thayers, and she did not reply directly to it, but said instead: "What did you call that woman?" "Aunt Debby Marshall, the deacon’s sister," returned Jessie, and Mrs. Bartow relapsed into a thoughtful mood, from which she was finally aroused by hearing Walter’s voice in the kitchen. Instantly she glanced at Jessie, who involuntarily blushed; and then the old lady commenced the battle at once, telling Jessie plainly that "she had come down to take her home before she disgraced them all by suffering a boy of Walter Marshall’s reputation to make love to her." "Walter never thought of making love to me," returned the astonished and slightly indignant Jessie; "and if he had it wouldn’t have been anybody’s business but mine and father’s. He isn’t a boy, either. He’s a splendid-looking man. Pa thinks the world of him; and he knows, too, about that old affair, which wasn’t half as bad as Will and Mrs. Reeves seem to think. Walter told it to me last night up in the pines, and I’ll tell it to you. It wasn’t murder nor anything like it. Now, even I shouldn’t wish it said that any of my friends were hung." "Hung!" repeated the old lady. "Who said anybody’s friends were hung? It’s false!" and the red mark around the lip wore a scarlet hue. "Of course it’s false," answered Jessie. "That’s what I said. Nobody knows for certain that he stole, either," and forgetting her own belief, founded on her father’s, Jessie tried to prove that Seth Marshall was as innocent as Walter himself had declared him to be.