At four that afternoon Reliance Clark was alone in the millinery shop at the rear of the post office building, sewing this time not upon the material for a bonnet or hat, but a much-needed dress for herself, which she was making over from an old one. Business at the Clark-Makepeace shop was distressingly dull. The summer season was at an end. The cottages, most of them, were closed. Even the Wheelers, usually among the very last to leave, had departed for New Haven. Margery, so people said, was responsible for the curtailing of their stay. “The poor child,” so her mother explained to Mrs. Colton, “is tired out. She worked _so_ hard to make the ‘Pinafore’ performance a success. If it had not been for her persistence and patience--yes, and talent, if I do say so, my dear--I don’t know how we should have come through. And then this distressing accident--if it _was_ an accident--to Mr. Covell. It was the last straw. Such a shock to her nerves. She and poor Seymour were _great_ friends. Of course Margery says little about it, even to me, but she has not been herself since it happened. Yes, we are closing the cottage. Where we shall spend the winter I am not yet just sure. I rather fancy California, but Margery seems more inclined toward the Riviera. Of course what Mr. Wheeler may decide is uncertain, but it will, without doubt, be one or the other.” Skeptics, remembering similar declarations of former years, smiled behind the lady’s back. Captain Ben Snow said to his wife: “Um-hum. Yes. Well, California’s a good place and so, I shouldn’t wonder, is this River-what-d’ye-call-it, but they are a long way off--and expensive. Adeline Wheeler may talk California and Margery somewhere else, but when papa begins to say things he’ll say New Haven, Connecticut, same as he always has before. As my grandfather used to tell, ‘Talk is cheap, but it takes money to buy Medford rum.’ You can address your Wheeler mail to New Haven, Mary, and I guess it won’t fetch up in the dead letter office.” Whether this prophecy was or was not a true one remained, of course, to be seen, but at all events the Wheeler household had joined the general exodus from Harniss. The gatherings in the post office at mail times had shrunk almost to mid-winter size. Reliance found time to do her housekeeping in the manner which, according to her New England ideas, housekeeping should be done, and to attend to her own dressmaking. On this particular afternoon, Abbie Makepeace had gone home early to write her column for the _Item_.