"Ah, and here goes somebody else. Who is it, with such a pretty pony phaeton, and a puny little footman, and a pug dog? It must be the Oldhams. I didn't know they had come up. Well, I hope Ann has on a respectable cap, and that the bell wires are not broken, as it seems probable all Yellowcoats will call to inquire for us to-day." "I am sure it is very kind of Yellowcoats. Why do you speak so, Missy? You surely can't resent it." Missy bit her lips; she had a resentment that she had never let her mother share. Yes, she did resent it. It was bitter to her to know that they were all coming, and that every one would know where they had found asylum, and that all the old story of last September would be revived. She was quite correct in thinking that all Yellowcoats was on its way there that afternoon. Ann must have had a lively time answering the bell and the questions. It was now the third day since the fire. The second day had been a stormy one, and the sunshine seemed to have come on purpose to disseminate the gossip. Missy, from behind the blinds, watched the carriages drive in. There were Oldhams, country Oldhams and city Oldhams, a family far reaching and intricately entwined in Yellowcoats' connections. It was not safe to say anything anti-Oldham to any one in Yellowcoats, for they were related to everybody, gentle and simple, in the place. There came the Roncevalles, who had two men on the box, and were debonair and rich and easy-going. There were the Sombreros, in a heavy, not recent carriage, driven by a man who did not even hold himself straight, and who couldn't have been dragooned into a livery. But the inmates of the carriage held themselves straight, and other people had to walk straight before them. If the object of mankind is to secure the respect of its fellows, they had attained that object. People of manifold more pretension quailed before their silent disapprobation. They "rode their sure and even trot, while now the world rode by, now lagged behind." Missy felt a sharper pang of wonder what the Sombreros had heard about her, than what the people with the two men on the box, or the black ponies and the pug dog had heard; she felt that the Sombreros would never change their minds, and minds that don't change are to be held in awe. She saw them drive away with a heavier sense of apprehension than she had felt before. But they did not turn and look towards the Andrews' cottage, as the others did. Missy felt sure the two men on the box of the Roncevalles' carriage nudged each other; the two ladies in the carriage certainly did turn and look that way; very gently and decorously, but still they turned.