d not yet accomplished his purpose had been due to the
watchfulness of Mrs. Solomon Black. On the two occasions when he had
rung Mrs. Black's front door-bell, that lady herself had appeared in
response to its summons. On both occasions she had informed Mr. Dodge
tartly that Miss Orr wasn't at home.

On the occasion of his second disappointment he had offered to await
the young lady's home-coming.

"There ain't no use of that, Jim," Mrs. Black had assured him. "Miss
Orr's gone t' Boston to stay two days."

Then she had unlatched her close-shut lips to add: "She goes there
frequent, on business."

Her eyes appeared to inform him further that Miss Orr's business, of
whatever nature, was none of _his_ business and never would be.

"That old girl is down on me for some reason or other," he told
himself ruefully, as he walked away for the second time. But he was
none the less resolved to pursue his hopefully nascent friendship
with Lydia Orr.

He was thinking of her vaguely as he walked toward the house which
had been his father's, and where he and Fanny had been born. It was
little and low and old, as he viewed it indifferently in the fading
light of the sunset sky. Its walls had needed painting so long, that
for years nobody had even mentioned the subject. Its picturesquely
mossy roof leaked. But a leaky roof was a commonplace in Brookville.
It was customary to set rusty tin pans, their holes stopped with
rags, under such spots as actually let in water; the emptying of the
pans being a regular household "chore." Somehow, he found himself
disliking to enter; his mother and Fanny would still be talking about
the disposition of Lydia Orr's money. To his relief he found his
sister alone in the kitchen, which served as a general living room.
The small square table neatly spread for two stood against the wall;
Fanny was standing by the window, her face close to the pane, and
apparently intent upon the prospect without, which comprised a grassy
stretch of yard flanked by a dull rampart of over-grown lilac bushes.

"Where's mother?" inquired Jim, as he hung his hat on the accustomed
nail.

"She went down to the village," said Fanny, turning her back on the
window with suspicious haste. "There was a meeting of the sewing
society at Mrs. Daggett's."

"Good Lord!" exclaimed Jim. "What an opportunity!"

"Opportunity?" echoed Fanny vaguely.

"Yes; for talking it over. Can't you imagine the clack of tongues;
the 'I says t