By and by a carriage coming out met a carriage driving in, directly before the Andrews' house. They stopped. The ladies bent eagerly forward and talked in low tones; more than one glance flashed towards the closed blinds of the widower's house. Missy's cheeks were scarlet and her breath came quick; but she was fascinated and could not look away. It was gentle Mrs. Olor and her pretty young daughters--who could dread anything from them? Stirring Mrs. Eve was just giving them the information that she had received from the waitress at the Varians' door. She was the kindest and busiest person in Yellowcoats, but she had a sense of humor, and she also was very particular about her own daughters, one of whom was with her in the carriage. Who could doubt what view she took of Miss Rothermel's aspirations? Missy watched breathlessly the faces; the mammas alone talked, the daughters listened, with smiles and rather pursed-up mouths. Superior the whole party seemed to feel themselves, as people always seem to feel when they have a little story against their neighbors, not reflecting that their own turn may come next. Missy had felt superior for twenty-seven years, though she hadn't talked more gossip than most other well-disposed and well-bred persons. Still, she had felt superior, and it was horrid to be made to feel inferior, and she bit her lips, and angry tears came up into her eyes. Her mother lay watching her silently on the bed. "Well, Sister Anne, Sister Anne, do you see anybody coming?" she said at last, gently. Missy forced herself to speak indifferently, "Only the Olors and the Eves. They have met just outside the gate, and are mincing us quite fine, I should judge from their animated looks." "Well, I hope they haven't anything worse to say of us than that we've had a fire, and that the place looks sadly out of trim." "Mamma," said Missy abruptly, as with wreathed smiles the friends parted and the carriages drove away, "what do you say to a journey this summer? I'm sadly cut up about this fire. I never shall have the heart to get things in order before autumn; I'm tired of Yellowcoats for the first time in my life, and--I want to go away." "Go away, Missy! How could we do that? I fear I am not strong enough; and your Aunt Harriet--you know we resolved two years ago, we'd never try it again. She is so hard to please, and you remember what a trial we found the whole three months." "It would be less of a trial than staying here. I, for one, would be glad to risk it. And as to you, I sometimes feel sure you need a change more than anything." Mrs. Varian shook her head. "I need rest more than anything." "Invalids always feel that, and yet see what benefit they get from journeys that they have dreaded." "Besides," said the mother rather hesitatingly "you know there is always a chance of St. John's return." "I didn't know," said Missy, a little coldly.