“Yes, ma’am! He war talkin’ very high Scotch, mos’ly like he does all times, ’specially to comp’ny-folks, but I got the sense of that much. He said as how he an’ the thunder-storm they figured up the sermon together, near’s I could make out. An’ Mr. Gilchris’—the young gentleman—he said precious little—an’ Mr. Wayt, he splurged out considerable ’bout seein’ the sun rise an’ so forth, an’ ’bout his headache comin’ on an’ a-goin off with the sun. An’ then the two of ’em walked off quite frien’ly, an’ soon’s as they was out o’ sight, I lighted out and come home.” Hetty was sitting upon the sofa, too sick and weak to stand. “Are you sure that you heard all this? Did Mr. Gilchrist know you were in the tree?” “Now—he see me go up. I ast him not to let on to _him_. But what I come to say war, ’taint noways nor nurver safe to say what aint jes’ true, jes’ for the sake of talkin’ big, an’ Mr. Wayt, bein’ a edicated man, he’d ought to be tole that. T’ould ’a’ been better not to say nuthin’ ’bout Sat’day night ’thout somebody ast h’m.” “There!” His young mistress put out her hand imperatively. “That will do. Don’t speak of this to anybody else. Go back to your work.” On their way to school, the twins left a thin envelope at Judge Gilchrist’s door. It was addressed to March. “I have heard what was the substance of Mr. Wayt’s conversation with you last night. Knowing you as I do, I am sure, that in mercy to the innocent, you will not let it go further. I recognize in the incident one more added to the many reasons why I can never be more than “Your friend, H. ALLING.” CHAPTER VIII. MARCH GILCHRIST’S name was brought up to the sewing room at eleven o’clock Monday morning. Hetty was cutting out shirts for the twins at a table of Homer’s contrivance and manufacture. Her face was flushed, perhaps with stooping over the board, when she looked up. “Please say that I am particularly engaged this morning, Mary Ann, and beg to be excused.” “My dear!” expostulated Mrs. Wayt. “He has probably called with a message from his mother or sister.” “In that case ask him to leave it with you, Mary Ann, unless you care to go down, Frances?” “He said ‘Miss Alling’ most particular,” ventured Mary Ann. “Then take my message just as I gave it, if you please.” “Did you know,” pursued Miss Alling, when the girl had gone, “that Perry is an inch taller than his brother? His arms are longer, too. They were exactly the same size until this summer.” Mrs. Wayt eyed her sister with a helpless, distraught air, while the scissors flashed and slipped through the muslin, and the worker appeared to have no interest in life beyond the manipulation of both.