Mrs. Todd did not reply. I recognized from the sounds that reached me that she had retired to the fastnesses of the kitchen closet and was clattering the tins. “I expect they’ll marry soon anyway,” continued the visitor. “I expect they will if they want to,” answered Mrs. Todd. “I don’t know nothin’ ’tall about it; that’s what folks say.” And presently the gingham handkerchief retreated past my window. “I routed her, horse and foot,” said Mrs. Todd proudly, coming at once to stand at my door. “Who’s comin’ now?” as two figures passed inward bound to the kitchen. They were Mrs. Begg and Johnny Bowden’s mother, who were favorites, and were received with Mrs. Todd’s usual civilities. Then one of the Mrs. Caplins came with a cup in hand to borrow yeast. On one pretext or another nearly all our acquaintances came to satisfy themselves of the facts, and see what Mrs. Todd would impart about the wedding. But she firmly avoided the subject through the length of every call and errand, and answered the final leading question of each curious guest with her noncommittal phrase, “I don’t know nothin’ ’tall about it; that’s what folks say!” She had just repeated this for the fourth or fifth time and shut the door upon the last comers, when we met in the little front entry. Mrs. Todd was not in a bad temper, but highly amused. “I’ve been havin’ all sorts o’ social privileges, you may have observed. They didn’t seem to consider that if they could only hold out till afternoon they’d know as much as I did. There wa’n’t but one o’ the whole sixteen that showed real interest, the rest demeaned themselves to ask out o’ cheap curiosity; no, there wa’n’t but one showed any real feelin’.” “Miss Maria Harris, you mean?” and Mrs. Todd laughed. “Certain, dear,” she agreed, “how you do understand poor human natur’!” A short distance down the hilly street stood a narrow house that was newly painted white. It blinded one’s eyes to catch the reflection of the sun. It was the house of the minister, and a wagon had just stopped before it; a man was helping a woman to alight, and they stood side by side for a moment, while Johnny Bowden appeared as if by magic, and climbed to the wagon-seat. Then they went into the house and shut the door. Mrs. Todd and I stood close together and watched; the tears were running down her cheeks. I watched Johnny Bowden, who made light of so great a moment by so handling the whip that the old white Caplin horse started up from time to time and was inexorably stopped as if he had some idea of running away. There was something in the back of the wagon which now and then claimed the boy’s attention; he leaned over as if there were something very precious left in his charge; perhaps it was only Esther’s little trunk going to its new home.