When the Monday Club and the Social Science Club and the History Club hinted that she might garner great sheaves of culture and enlightenment at their meetings, Constance merely smiled condescendingly, but held aloof, and the ladies of Antioch were intellectual without her abetment. They silently agreed with the Emorys' free-born help, who had seen better days, that she was “haughty proud” and “stuck up.” Many was the informal indignation meeting they held, and many the vituperate discussion handed down concerning Miss Emory, but Miss Emory went her way with her head held high, apparently serenely unconscious of her offence against the peace and quiet of the community. It must not be supposed that she was intentionally unkind or arrogant. It was unfortunate, perhaps, but she didn't like the townspeople. She would have been perfectly willing to admit they were quite as good as she. The whole trouble was that they were different, and the merits of this difference had nothing to do with the case. Her stand in the matter shocked her mother and amused her father. Dr. Emory excused himself and went into the house. Dan made himself comfortable on the steps at Miss Emory's side. In the very nearness there was something luxurious and satisfying. He was silent because he feared the antagonism of speech. The rest of Antioch had eaten its supper, principally in its shirt-sleeves, and was gossiping over front gates, or lounging on front steps. When Antioch loafed it did so with great singleness of purpose. Here and there through the town, back yards had been freshly ploughed for gardens. In some of these men and boys were burning last year's brush and litter. The smoke hung heavy and undispersed in the twilight. Already the younger hands from the car-shops had “cleaned up,” and, dressed in their best clothes, were hurrying back down-town to hang about the square and street corners until it was time to return home and go to bed. Off in the distance an occasional shrill whistle told where the ubiquitous small boy was calling a comrade out to play, and every now and then, with a stealthy patter of bare feet, some coatless urchin would scurry past the Emorys' gate.