Mrs. William Holton lived in a modern house that was superior to anything the Montgomerys could boast. It had two bathrooms, a music-room, and electric lights. In Montgomery one bathroom had long been a summit-crowning achievement, to which the fortunate possessor might point with pride; and as for dedicating a room to music, and planting in it a grand piano flanked by a bust of Mozart, and shedding upon it a dim opalescent glow from concealed lights--no one in the community had ever before scaled such heights of grandeur. For half a dozen years after their sister's escapade the Montgomery sisters had not spoken to a Holton; but in such communities as theirs the "cutting" of persons with whom one has been brought up is attended with embarrassments. William Holton had married, a little late, a Memphis woman he had met on a trip to Mexico to inspect the plantations in which he and his brother Samuel were interested. She was "a Southern woman," with a charming accent, as every one admitted. The accent was greatly admired. Several young girls sought to soften the vowels of their native Hoosier speech in conformity with the models introduced by Mrs. Holton. The coming of this lady, the zest with which she entered into the social life of the town, the vacillations of certain old friends of the Montgomerys who had taken sides against the Holtons after the Kirkwood incident, had given the three sisters an excuse for abandoning the feud in so far at least as it applied to William Holton. In any view of the case, no matter how base the Holtons might be, there was no reason why the family sins should be visited upon the lady with the aforesaid accent, whose taste in dress was unassailable and who poured tea with such an air. Amzi read his newspaper in the little back room of the bank on a November afternoon and awaited the coming of his sisters. The necessity for any business discussions between them had steadily diminished. Their father's estate had long ago been distributed, and Amzi had not troubled himself as to the subsequent fate of the money he had paid to his sisters. They were all blessed with husbands, and if these gentlemen did not safeguard their wives' property it was no affair of his. There had been about half a million dollars, which meant in round figures a hundred thousand dollars apiece, and this in Montgomery is a great deal of money. When his sisters arrived, Amzi rose with the nice courtesy that lay in him and placed chairs for them about the table. Then panting from his exertion he pulled a cigar from his waistcoat and dry-smoked it. They were unwontedly grave, suggesting the gloom of a committee appointed to perfect funeral arrangements for a poor relation. "You have talked to Phil about the party, I suppose," said Mrs. Waterman. "I have: I most certainly have, Josie," replied Amzi, sighing heavily. "And she's going to do what we want?" Amzi tilted his head to one side reflectively, and took the cigar from his mouth.