All this and much more was said, and by the time the patchwork quilt was done, there remained but little to be said either for or against Guy Remington and Maddy Clyde, which had not been said by either friend or foe. Among the invited guests at that quilting was the wife of Farmer Green, Maddy’s warmest friend in Honedale, and the one who did her best to defend her against the attacks of those whose remarks she well knew were caused more by envy than by any personal dislike to Maddy, who used to be so much of a pet until her superior advantages separated her in a measure from them. Good Mrs. Green was sorely tried. Without in the least blaming Maddy, she, too, had been troubled at the frequency of Guy’s visits to the cottage. It was not friendship alone which took him there, she was sure; and knowing that he was engaged, she feared for Maddy’s happiness at first, and afterward, when people began to talk, she feared for her good name. Something must be done, and though she dreaded it greatly, she was the one to do it. Accordingly, next day she started for the cottage, which Guy had just left, and this in her opinion accounted for the bright color in Maddy’s cheek and the sparkle in her eye. Guy had been there, bringing and leaving a world of sunshine, but, alas, his chances for coming again as he had done were fearfully small when at the close of Mrs. Green’s well-meant visit Maddy lay on her bed, her white, frightened face buried in the pillows, and herself half wishing she had died before the last hour had come, with the terrible awakening it had brought; awakening to the fact that of all living beings, Guy Remington was the one she loved the best—the one without whose presence it seemed to her she could not live, but without which she now knew she must. With the best of intentions Mrs. Green had made a bungle of the whole affair, but had succeeded in giving Maddy a general impression that “folks were talking awfully about Guy’s coming there, and doing for her so much like an accepted lover, when everybody knew he was engaged, and wouldn’t be likely to marry a poor girl if he was not; that unless she wanted to be ruined _teetotally_, and lose all her friends, she must contrive to stop his visits, and not see him so much.” “Yes, I’ll do anything, only please leave me now,” Maddy gasped, her face as white as ashes and her eyes fixed pleadingly upon Mrs. Green, who, having been young herself, guessed the truth, and, as she rose to go, laid her motherly hand on Maddy’s head, saying kindly: “Poor child, it’s hard to bear now, but you’ll get over it in time.” “Get over it,” Maddy moaned, as she shut and bolted the door after Mrs. Green, and then threw herself upon the bed, “I never shall till I die!”