“Well, I reckon Granny Williams will take ye in, like enough. She’s got another furrin womern in thar now.” “Oh, all right—that will be fine. Do you know what her rates are?” “Rates, Ma’am?” “How much she charges by the day, or maybe longer.” The old lady looked at her silently for some time, but at length answered with a certain calm dignity of her own. “I don’t reckon nobody would charge ye nothin’ fer what ye et while ye was in here, Ma’am,” said she. “Ye’d be welcome.” “What do you think of that, Nina?” chuckled the spokesman of the two new arrivals. She turned again to the old woman. “Well,” said she politely, “we want to do what’s right. I just thought I’d ask you, you know. We’re strangers here, all right enough. We wouldn’t plan to stay long—maybe not more than a day or two.” “Who air ye?” demanded Granny Joslin succinctly. “Have ye heerd anything about the war outside? I heerd tell thar was some sort of diffikilty we-all was havin’ with some other folks somewhars. I come down to see.” “War! Have we heard of the war! I should say we hadn’t heard of anything else!” rejoined the young woman. “It’s put a crimp in business, all right—especially our business.” “What is yore business, Ma’am?” queried the old dame. “We’re players—actors—don’t you see?—theatrical people—you know. And we’ve lost a perfectly good angel. That’s why we’re here.” This statement likewise seemed to Granny Joslin a most extraordinary one. She made no comment, as the speaker went on, feeling a trifle angered in the suspicion that these others were making sport of her. “Well, it was the war that did that,” said the young woman. “And here we are.” “Tell me, Madam,” began the older of the two newcomers, seeing the perplexity of the old lady, “do you know of any one in here lately by the name of Haddon?” Granny Joslin bent the calm gaze of her deep-set hazel eyes upon her. “The furrin womern over to Granny Williams’ house is name Haddon,” said she after a time, “but her man, he hain’t here no more now.” “Isn’t here! Has he been here? When did he leave?” It was the younger woman who spoke again. “He lef’ a while back.” “Where did he go? Do you know?” “No, I don’t. The Lord only knows whar he went, but he’s daid all right. Up yander on the hill is whar he’s buried at. His womern has been stayin’ on here fer a little while yit, over to Granny Williams’, like I done tolt ye.” Her close scrutiny saw consternation upon the faces of both the newcomers. “But—you don’t mean Mr. Haddon—you don’t mean that Mr. James Haddon—_he_ isn’t dead, is he?” “He sartinly is,” replied Granny Joslin. “He was drownded down to the Narrers while he was a-comin’ in here. They had a boat an’ they come up from Windsor. Davy—that’s my grandson—saved the corp, and he had a moughty hard time doin’ it, too, let me tell ye. He liken to have drownded hisself. But Davy, he fotched the corp, anyways.” The two strangers looked at one another, horrified.