To be sure, one of the Bowerton pastors had occasional letters from a missionary board, whose headquarters were at the Hub, but not even the most touching appeals from members of his flock could induce him to write the board concerning the newcomers. But Bowerton was not to be balked in its striving after accurate intelligence. From Squire Brown, who leased Mrs. Wyett a cottage, it was learned that Mrs. Wyett had made payment by check on an excellent Boston bank. The poor but respectable female who washed the floors of the cottage informed the public that the whole first floor was to be carpeted with Brussels. The postmaster’s clerk ascertained and stated that Mrs. Wyett received _two_ religious papers per week, whereas no one else in Bowerton took more than one. The grocer said that Mrs. Wyett was, by jingo, the sort of person _he_ liked to trade with—wouldn’t have anything that wasn’t the very best. The man who helped to do the unpacking was willing to take oath that among the books were a full set of Barnes, Notes, and two sets of commentaries, while Mrs. Battle, who lived in the house next to the cottage, and who was suddenly, on hearing the crashing of crockery next door, moved to neighborly kindness to the extent of carrying in a nice hot pie to the newcomers, declared that, as she hoped to be saved, there wasn’t a bit of crockery in that house which wasn’t pure china. Bowerton asked no more. Brussels carpets, religious tendencies, a bank account, the ability to live on the best that the market afforded, and to eat it from china, and china only—why, either one of these qualifications was a voucher of respectability, and any two of them constituted a patent of aristocracy of the Bowerton standard. Bowerton opened its doors, and heartily welcomed Mrs. and Miss Wyett. It is grievous to relate, but the coming of the estimable people was the cause of considerable trouble in Bowerton. Bowerton, like all other places, contained lovers, and some of the young men were not so blinded by the charms of their own particular lady friends as to be oblivious to the beauty of Miss Wyett. She was extremely modest and retiring, but she was also unusually handsome and graceful, and she had an expression which the young men of Bowerton could not understand, but which they greatly admired. It was useless for plain girls to say that they couldn’t see anything remarkable about Miss Wyett; it was equally unavailing for good-looking girls to caution their gallants against too much of friendly regard even for a person of whose antecedents they really knew scarcely anything. Even casting chilling looks at Miss Wyett when they met her failed to make that unoffending young lady any less attractive to the young men of Bowerton, and critical analysis of Miss Wyett’s style of dressing only provoked manly comparisons, which were as exasperating as they were unartistic.