"Cannot let me in?" repeated Mrs. Pryor. "What does this mean? It is some conspiracy. Of course I know there is a jealousy, but this is too--stand aside this moment, my good creature, and don't be insolent, or you will repent of it. I shall inform my aunt. Do you know who I am?" "Yes'm, I know well enough who you are. Yes'm, I know you are her own niece, but if you was fifty nieces I couldn't let you in. She ain't goin' to see a livin' soul to-day except Doctor Stedman. You might see him, after he's ben here," she added, relenting a little at the keen chagrin in the visitor's face. Mrs. Pryor caught at the straw. "Ah! she has sent for Doctor Stedman. Very right, very proper! Of course, if my aunt does not think it wise to see any one until after the physician's visit, I can understand that. Nobody is more careful about such matters than I am. I will see Doctor Stedman myself, get his advice and directions, and call again. Give my love to my aunt, Direxia, and tell her"--she stretched her neck toward the door--"tell her that I am greatly distressed not to see her, and still more to hear that she is indisposed; but that very soon, as soon as possible after the doctor's visit, I shall come again and devote myself to her." "Scat!" said a harsh voice from within. "Mercy on me! what's that?" cried Mrs. Pryor. "Scat! _quousque tandem, O Catilina?_ Helen was a beauty, Xantippe was--" "Hold your tongue!" said Direxia Hawkes, hastily. "It's only the parrot. He is the worst-actin'--good mornin', Mis' Pryor!" She closed the door on a volley of screeches that was pouring from the doorway. Mrs. Pryor, rustling and crackling with indignation against the world in general, made her way down the garden path. She was fumbling with the latch of the gate, when the door of the opposite house opened, and a large woman came out and, hastening across the road, met her with outstretched hand. "Do tell me if this isn't Mis' Pryor!" said the large women, cordially. "I felt sure it must be you; I heard you was in town. You haven't forgotten Mis' Weight, Malviny Askem as was? Well, I am pleased to see you. Walk in, won't you? now do! Why, you _are_ a stranger! Step right in this way!" Nothing loth, Mrs. Pryor stepped in, and was ushered into the sitting-room. "Deacon, here's an old friend, if I may presume to say so; Mis' Pryor, Miss Maria Darracott as was. You'll be rejoiced, well I know. Isick and Annie Lizzie, come here this minute and shake hands! Your right hand, Annie Lizzie, and take your finger out of your mouth, or I'll sl--I shall have to speak to you. Let me take your bunnet, Maria, mayn't I?" Deacon Weight heaved himself out of his chair, and received the visitor with ponderous cordiality. "It is a long time since we have had the pleasure of welcoming you to Elmerton, Mrs. Pryor," he said. "Your family has sustained a great loss, ma'am, a great loss. Miss Phoebe Blyth is universally lamented."