“Mis’ Beckett’s place, did you observe?” said the stranger, leaning forward to listen to what her companions said. “I expect that’s where I’m goin’—Mis’ Ezra Beckett’s?” “That’s the one,” said Miss Pickett and Mrs. Flagg together, and they both looked out eagerly as the coach drew up to the front door of a large old yellow house that stood close upon the green turf of the roadside. The passenger looked pleased and eager, and made haste to leave the stage with her many bundles and bags. While she stood impatiently tapping at the brass knocker, the stage-driver landed a large trunk, and dragged it toward the door across the grass. Just then a busy-looking middle-aged woman made her appearance, with floury hands and a look as if she were prepared to be somewhat on the defensive. “Why, how do you do, Mis’ Beckett?” exclaimed the guest. “Well, here I be at last. I didn’t know ’s you thought I was ever comin’. Why, I do declare, I believe you don’t recognize me, Mis’ Beckett.” “I believe I don’t,” said the self-possessed hostess. “Ain’t you made some mistake, ma’am?” “Why, don’t you recollect we was together that time to the state conference, an’ you said you should be pleased to have me come an’ make you a visit some time, an’ I said I would certain. There, I expect I look more natural to you now.” Mrs. Beckett appeared to be making the best possible effort, and gave a bewildered glance, first at her unexpected visitor, and then at the trunk. The stage-driver, who watched this encounter with evident delight, turned away with reluctance. “I can’t wait all day to see how they settle it,” he said, and mounted briskly to the box, and the stage rolled on. “He might have waited just a minute to see,” said Miss Pickett indignantly, but Mrs. Flagg’s head and shoulders were already far out of the stage window—the house was on her side. “She ain’t got in yet,” she told Miss Pickett triumphantly. “I could see ’em quite a spell. With that trunk, too! I do declare, how inconsiderate some folks is!” “’Twas pushin’ an acquaintance most too far, wa’n’t it?” agreed Miss Pickett. “There,’twill be somethin’ laughable to tell Mis’ Timms. I never see anything more divertin’. I shall kind of pity that woman if we have to stop an’ git her as we go back this afternoon.”