THE UNCERTIFIED GRANNY JOSLIN was accurate in one statement regarding her neighbor’s household, but was not so accurate in other details. Had Polly Pendleton known surely that Marcia Haddon was in the house she now approached, she certainly must have turned and gone the other way. And had Marcia herself suspected the presence in town of these two visitors of all in the world, it is most likely that she would have prolonged her visit in the hills indefinitely, and not have returned earlier in the day, as had been the case. In her room, Marcia Haddon heard voices—voices of the two old women, voices of two younger women—one voice which caused her to stop and listen—all her faculties arrested. It was Granny Williams who after a time knocked at her door and called her out to meet the newcomers. Marcia, with sudden prescience of what was to come, summoned all her fortitude for what seemed to her the unkindest blow she ever had known of fate. This woman—here—following her to the edge of the world—to her husband’s very grave-side—it was a thing unspeakable in its unfitness! Her very soul rebelled against it. Her color was high as she stepped out into the room, facing what she felt must be an encounter. “You asked for me?” said she, looking directly into the face of Polly Pendleton. “I think there must be some mistake.” Her eyes now passed calmly from one to the other, her face cold. Polly, quick of wit, did what she could. “Mrs. Haddon,” said she impulsively, “we didn’t know you were here when we came in. We didn’t know you were in town. It’s all a mistake—everything’s a mistake. We wanted to go away right now—but they wouldn’t let us—there’s no other place for us. Won’t you let me talk to you now? May we——” Her gesture indicated the room from which Marcia had but now emerged, which seemed to offer privacy for what Polly Pendleton as well as herself knew was to be a scene. “As you like,” said Marcia Haddon icily, and held open the door, closing it as the other entered. “It’s all a mistake, Mrs. Haddon,” began Polly once more as she found herself alone with the other. “So it would seem,” replied Marcia, still coldly. “Not one of my own making.” “We didn’t know a thing about it, Mrs. Haddon. I’m sorry, awfully sorry—sorry as I can be.” “You would seem to have cause for regret, perhaps? I suppose you refer to my husband’s death?” Polly nodded rapidly, her upper lip trembling a little bit. The situation was not in the least easy for her. “I can fancy it would mean something to you.”