She was tall, willowy, and startling. She wore a sealskin coat—at least it looked like seal—with sleeves that ballooned grandly at the shoulders; a picture hat that sat rakishly—(no doubt the wind had something to do with its angle)—upon a crown of black hair neatly banged in front and so extensively puffed behind that it looked for all the world like an intricate mass of sausages in peril of being dislodged at every step she took; rather stunning coral ear-rings made up of graduated globes; a slinky satin skirt of black with a long, sweeping train that, being released from her well-gloved hand, dragged swishily across the cheap rag carpet with a sort of contemptuous hiss. A roomy pair of rubber boots, undoubtedly the property of her husband, completed her costume. “Good evening, Mr. Sikes,” she drawled, as she scuffled past him into the sitting-room. “Nice balmy weather to be born in, isn’t it?” Mr. Sikes, taken unawares, forgot himself so far as to wink at the parson, and then, in some confusion, stammered: “St-step right in, Mrs. Sage, and have a chair. Evening, Mr. Sage. How are ye, Silas? Help yourself to a cigar. Take off your things, Mrs. Sage. Oliver will be mighty glad to see—” “How is Mrs. Baxter, Joseph?” inquired the parson, removing his hat with an effort. It had been jammed down rather low on his head. “The thing is,” put in Mr. Link, cheerily, as he began to shed his coat, “is old Ollie likely to pull through? I’ve been up here six or seven times to-day and dogged if I know whether to hitch up the hearse or the band wagon.” Sikes scowled at the speaker and jerked his head significantly in the direction of the Gooches. “Come right up to the stove, Mrs. Sage,” said he, dragging a rocker forward. “You must be mighty chilly.” “Only my legs,” announced the preacher’s wife. Mrs. Gooch winced. In her circle, ladies never mentioned legs unless alluding to dining-room tables, or fried chickens, or animate objects such as dogs, horses, cows and sheep. And when she found out later on that this startling person was a minister’s wife, she wondered what the world was coming to. Somehow, it seemed to her, nothing could be so incongruous or so disillusioning as the wife of a preacher having legs. “This is Oliver’s sister,” introduced Mr. Sikes, awkwardly. “From Hopkinsville. Reverend Sage, Mrs. Gooch. Mr. Link, Mrs. Gooch. And this is Oliver’s brother-in-law, her husband, also of Hopkinsville.” Everybody bowed. “I didn’t catch the lady’s name,” said Mrs. Gooch. “Permit me to introduce my wife,” said the Reverend Sage, advancing to the stove, rubbing his extended palms together. “A bitter night, is it not?” “Very,” said Mrs. Gooch. “Very,” said Mr. Gooch. “Tough on horses,” said Mr. Link. “Very,” said Mr. Sikes.