"I didn't know Miss Fortune's tallow was ever anything but the hardest," said Sarah Lowndes. "You had better not let your aunt know you've told on her, Ellen," remarked Mary Lawson; "she won't thank you." "Had she a good lot of tallow to make up?" inquired the mother, preparing to cut her bees-wax. "I don't know, ma'am; she had a big kettle, but I don't know how full it was." "You may as well cut a good piece, ma, while you are about it," said the daughter; "and ask her to let us have a piece of her sage cheese, will you?" "Is it worth while to weigh it?" whispered Mrs. Lowndes. Her daughter answered in the same tone, and Miss Mary joining them, a conversation of some length went on over the bees-wax which Ellen could not hear. The tones of the speakers became lower and lower; till at length her own name and an incautious sentence were spoken more distinctly and reached her. "Shouldn't you think Miss Fortune might put a black ribbon at least on her bonnet?" "Anybody but her would." "Hush!----" They whispered again under breath. The words entered Ellen's heart like cold iron. She did not move, hand or foot; she sat motionless with pain and fear, yet what she feared she dared not think. When the bees-wax was given her she rose up from her chair and stood gazing into Mrs. Lowndes' face as if she had lost her senses. "My goodness, child, how you look!" said that lady. "What ails you, honey?" "Ma'am," said Ellen, "what was that you said, about----" "About what, dear?" said Mrs. Lowndes, with a startled look at the others. "About--a ribbon," said Ellen, struggling to get the words out of white lips. "My goodness!" said the other; "did you ever hear anything like that? I didn't say nothing about a ribbon, dear." "Do you suppose her aunt ha'n't told her?" said Miss Mary in an undertone. "Told me what?" cried Ellen, "oh what? what?" "I wish I was a thousand miles off!" said Mrs. Lowndes; "I don't know, dear--I don't know what it is--Miss Alice knows." "Yes, ask Miss Alice," said Mary Lawson; "she knows better than we do." Ellen looked doubtfully from one to the other; then as "Go ask Miss Alice," was repeated on all sides, she caught up her bonnet, and flinging the bees-wax from her hand, darted out of the house. Those she had left looked at each other a minute in silence. "Ain't that too bad now!" exclaimed Mrs. Lowndes, crossing the room to shut the door. "But what could I say?" "Which way did she go?" "I don't know, I am sure; I had no head to look, or anything else. I wonder if I had ought to ha' told her. But I couldn't ha' done it." "Just look at her bees-wax!" said Sarah Lowndes. "She will kill herself if she runs up the mountain at that rate," said Mary Lawson. They all made a rush to the door to look after her. "She ain't in sight," said Mrs. Lowndes; "if she's gone the way to the Nose, she's got as far as them big poplars already, or she'd be somewhere this side of 'em where we could see her."