“I heard it hinted,” whispered the scrawny woman, “that Sylvene Willard is going to stick her nose into this thing. She has allus made more or less of ’Lize Haskell, and ’Lize has been one of her ‘Grit and Grace Girls,’ as she calls ’em.” The woman’s tone was scornful. “You can let Sylvene Willard alone to put more tomfool notions into a girl’s head in a minit than practical common-sense will weed out in a year. She’s got them girls meetin’ to her house Saturdays and readin’ a lot of ratted stuff out loud and writin’ papers and foolin’ with a lot of lit’ry sculch. I wouldn’t let my Minnie join in with ’em. I told her that there was too much readin’ and writin’ of tomrot in the world now, and if she wanted to read she could stay to home and read cook-book receets. It may not be quite so new-fangled and fash’nable as it is to read about furrin’ countries”--the woman’s lips curled and her nostrils spread--“but it is a blamed sight more to the point if a woman’s goin’ to amount to anything in this world and has got a husband and fam’ly--as she ought to have.” “Sylvene Willard better ’a’ taken one of her chances,” agreed Salome Burpee. “She can talk about loyalty to her parent and all sech till the cows come home. But the trouble was she was tormented afraid that the Judge might shine up to Number Two. I tell ye, them Willards is shysters after the dollars!” “She might have gone furder and fared wuss than o ’a’ married King Bradish,” said the tall woman. “But you’ll find that she has liked to have the two of ’em taggin’ at her gown-tail. You can’t blame ‘Lize Haskell for thinkin’ it’s all right to be flirty.” Salome turned a cautious gaze to the stolid, hard face of Esther. Then she looked across to Micajah. “My land o’ Goshen,” she murmured, “it don’t seem as though that young gal would need to mess into a fam’ly like that. I’ve thought right along that there ain’t anything to it except that Esther is so set and determined to make it out that way.” “I tell ye she’s a designin’ little critter,” retorted the tall woman. “And I want to see her boosted out of her job. If Sylvene Willard wants to stick and primp girls up and git ’em to readin’ furrin’ his’try and a lot of sculch, and gittin’ ’em all set up when their father’s nothin’ but a crazy pauper, so that they’re so nippy they have to talk polite lingo all the time, ‘yes, marm, yes, sir, our black cat!’ then I say let her take care of ’em. I want my Minnie to see that airs go before a fall!” A grating of wheels on the grit outside checked the whispers. Sylvena Willard came in, her cheeks flushed by her ride through the crisp air. The assembled inquisitors of the Dunham district instinctively knew that she was there as the teacher’s defender, and they surveyed her with disapprobation. But she nodded cheery little greetings here and there and sat down on one of the front seats with great composure.