When Mrs. Welch wrote the letter describing her new home and surroundings, she gave, as has been said, what she considered a very favorable account of her neighbors. She had not written the letter for publication, yet, when the zeal of her friends gave it to the public, she was sensible of a feeling of gratified pride. There were in it a number of phrases which, as she looked at them in cold print, she would in a milder mood have softened; but she consoled herself with the reflection that the individuals referred to in the letter would never see it. Alas! for the vain trust of those who rely on their obscurity to hide their indiscretions. The _Censor_ was as well known, even if not so extensively known, in the old County as in Mrs. Welch’s former home. It had long been known as Leech’s organ, and was taken by more than one of the Red Rock residents. When the issue containing Mrs. Welch’s letter first appeared it raised a breeze. The neighborhood was deeply stirred and, what appeared most curious to Mrs. Welch was, that what gave most offence, was her reference to individuals which she had intended to be rather complimentary. She made up her mind to face boldly the commotion she had raised and to bear with fortitude whatever it might bring. She did not know that it was her patronizing attitude that gave the most serious offence. “I don’t mind her attack on us, but blame her impudent, patronizing air,” declared the little General—“General Fossil,” as Steve called him—“and to think that I should have put myself out to be especially civil to her! Steve, you are so fond of Northern cherries, I shall let you do the civilities for us both hereafter.” To the General’s surprise, Steve actually reddened. The next time Mrs. Welch met her neighbors she was conscious of the difference in their bearing toward her. It was at old St. Ann’s. When she had been there before, the whole congregation had thronged about her with warm greetings and friendly words. Now there was a marked change. Though Steve Allen and Rupert and Blair, and a few others came up and spoke to her, the rest of the congregation contented themselves with returning her bows coldly from a distance, and several ladies, she was sure, studiously avoided her greeting. “Well, sir, I knew she was a oner as soon as I lay my eye ’pon her,” said Andy Stamper to a group of his friends in the court-yard at the county seat the next court day, “but I didn’t know she was goin’ to take that tack. She’s done fixed up the place till you wouldn’t know it from a town place. She has painted them old rooms so black that Doan had to git a candle to see how to do it, and I was born in one of ’em. I told her I never heard o’ paintin’ nothin’ that black befo’ but a coffin, but she said it was her favorite color.” “’Pears like that’s so too, Sergeant,” laughed someone. “Is Hiram there much?”