The sarcasm was framed in pleasantry, and Miss Tabitha took it in smiling good part, with no further pretence of reservation. “Well, then, you must know that Ben Lawton--he’s a shiftless sort of coot who lives out in the hollow, and picks up odd jobs; the sort of people who were brought up on the canal, and eat woodchucks--Ben Lawton has a whole tribe of daughters. Some of them work around among the farmers, and some are in the button factory, and some are at home doing nothing; and the oldest of the lot, she ran away from here five years ago or so, and went to Tecumseh. She was a good-looking girl--she worked one season for my sister near Tyre, and I really liked her looks--but she went altogether to the dogs, and, as I say, quit these parts, everybody supposed for good. But, lo and behold! what must she do but turn up again like a bad penny, after all this time, and, now I think of it, come back on the very train you travelled by, yesterday, too!” “There is nothing very remarkable about that,” commented Kate. “So far as I have seen, one doesn’t have to show a certificate of character to buy a railway ticket. The man at the window scowls upon the just and the unjust with impartial incivility.” “Just wait,” continued Miss Tabitha, impressively, “wait till you have heard all! This girl--Jess Lawton, they call her--drove home on the express-sleigh with her father right in broad daylight. And who do you think followed up there on foot--in plain sight, too--and went into the house, and stayed there a full half hour? Why, the immaculate Mr. Tracy! Sarah Cheeseborough saw him pass the place, and watched him go into their house--you can see across lots from her side windows to where the Lawtons live--and just for curiosity she kept track of the time. The girl hadn’t been home an hour before he made his appearance, and Sarah vows she hasn’t seen him on that road before in years. _Now_ what do you think?” “I think Sarah Cheesborough might profitably board up her side windows. It would help her to concentrate her mind on her own business,” said Kate. Her sister Ethel carried this sentiment farther by adding: “So do I! She is a mean, meddlesome old cat. I’ve heard you say so yourself, Tabitha.” The two elder ladies took a different view of the episode, and let it be seen; but Mrs. Minster seized the earliest opportunity of changing the topic of conversation, and no further mention was made during the afternoon of either Reuben Tracy or the Lawtons. The subject was, indeed, brought up later on, when the two girls were alone together in the little boudoir connecting their apartments. Pale-faced Ethel sat before the fire, dreamily looking into the coals, while her sister stood behind her, brushing out and braiding for the night the younger maiden’s long blonde hair.