Thursday evening came! The moon was full, the sleighing perfect; Nature was evidently in league with Miss Bethesda Pool, and meant to do her share in making the party a success. Miss Pool, standing in state at the end of the ballroom, waiting for her guests to arrive, made a pleasant picture in her old-fashioned flowered brocade, one of the self-supporting kind, little beholden to any figure inside it. Her hair was still brown, still pretty, with its crinkles that caught the light, and gave her a wonderful look of youth, well carried out by her bright hazel eyes, and trim figure. In truth, she was not old, Miss Bethesda; her fortieth birthday was only just past, and she was straight as a dart, and strong as a tree; but when one has played old woman for fifteen years, one gets to think the play a reality, and one's neighbours are not slow to adopt the view. On looking in the glass, this evening, Miss Bethesda experienced a slight shock, and a decided impression of good looks. She wondered if Buckstone Bradford would find her much changed; she regretted that she had worn her old "punkin" hood quite so uniformly for the last ten years, and meditated on the attractions of a certain sky-blue "fascinator," which had been lying in her top-drawer ever since Siloama died. Fond of bright colours Siloama always was, and dressy to the day of her death. Anyhow, the brocade was handsome enough to please any one! Miss Bethesda smoothed down the shining folds, examined her white silk mitts carefully, and glanced up at the clock, to see how much longer she had to wait. Nearly seven! Folks would most likely be on time, Miss Bethesda thought, with a grim smile; curiosity could hurry the laziest folks that ever forgot to draw their breath! She reckoned every old podogger in the village would turn out to see Bethesdy Pool make a fool of herself; but let 'em come! There'd be more than one fool to-night, if things went as they should! 'Twas strange, though, that she hadn't heard no word from-- Here her meditations were interrupted; for the door at the end of the ballroom flew open and revealed a tall young man, wrapped to his eyes in fur, who rushed forward and took her hand, and tried to say something, and failed egregiously. "Will Newell!" cried Miss Bethesda, "do you mean to tell me this is you? For gracious sake, what do you want? Didn't you get my note?" "Yes, ma'am, I did," cried the big fellow, drawing the sleeve of his fur coat across his eyes. "I've done as you said; but I couldn't go farther without thanking you, not if 'twas ever so! Miss Bethesda, I--I'd do anything in the world for you, I believe. You don't know what a time we've had,--Nan and me. We--I--well, I'm not one to talk, never was! but I _would_ do anything for you, now, I would!"