"Do you see the peaceful look in her face?" went on the girl’s unsteady voice. "She has only looked like that since yesterday. No," with new strength, and no supplication in her manner as she unconsciously drew herself up, "I will not waver. Say what you please to me. Think what you will of me; I can have but one thought, I must have but one, and that is—mother!" Van Tassel lifted his hat once more, as to a stranger. "Not one friendly word?" she asked desperately, her breath coming fast. "What do you want?" asked the other. "That I should wish you prosperity?" "You surely do not wish me ill, Jack?" "You have just declared your intention not to consider me. What can my wishes be to you? My only course is to efface myself," and without another word of farewell Van Tassel bowed, and, turning on his heel, hurried away up the street. *CHAPTER V.* *MISS BERRY’S VISITORS.* Miss Lovina Berry stood on the stone doorstep of her square, white house early one evening soon after the scene narrated in the last chapter. The elm growing in her yard would have put to shame those so carefully tended in front of the Van Tassel mansion a thousand miles away, and more of the noble trees stood outside the white picket fence and shaded the country road. The flowers in her carefully weeded garden were homely and wholesome, like her own placid face, as she stood, elbows in her hands, regarding the neighbor who was in the act of departing from her hospitable roof. "You’re sure ’t won’t inconvenience you a mite, Loviny?" asked the latter, folding a brown paper parcel beneath her shawl as her anxious upturned face met Miss Berry’s benevolent gaze. "You won’t need the pattern this week?" "No, I sha’n’t need it this week," answered Lovina pleasantly; then, as the other started off contentedly toward the little white gate, she added in an equable, unvexed undertone: "but if I want it any time within two months I shall have to come after it, that I know. There ain’t anybody slacker ’n you be, Ann Getchell, from one end o’ Pearfield to the other." Miss Berry continued to watch contemplatively the woman whom she had characterized with such passionless severity, and suddenly she saw her stoop. "Your posies do smell so good, Loviny," Miss Getchell called back. "I s’pose you don’t care if I take some old man?" Miss Berry smiled, and stepping deliberately off the stone advanced toward her guest. "Take any old man you can get, Ann. I wouldn’t lay a straw in your way." "That’s an old joke, Loviny," returned the other with a sniff, breaking a piece of the feathery stuff with its pungent sweet odor, while her hostess with generous hand gathered the best the garden afforded, and tying the nosegay with a bit of striped grass, bestowed it upon the visitor, who buried her nose in its depths. "You’re just as much of an old maid as I be, you know," added Miss Getchell with an upward look.