r hitch out in front."

"She sees us, Abby; go on in!" commanded Miss Daggett masterfully. "I
guess when it comes to that, her gravel ain't any better than other
folks' gravel."

Thus urged, Mrs. Daggett guided the sulky brown horse between the big
stone gateposts and brought him to a standstill under the somewhat
pretentious _porte-cochere_ of the Bolton house.

Lydia Orr was beside the vehicle in a moment, her face bright with
welcoming smiles.

"Dear Mrs. Daggett," she said, "I'm so glad you've come. I've been
wanting to see you all day. I'm sure you can tell me--"

"You've met my husband's sister, Miss Lois Daggett, haven't you, Miss
Orr? She's the lady that made that beautiful drawn-in mat you bought
at the fair."

Miss Orr shook hands cordially with the author of the drawn-in mat.

"Come right in," she said. "You'll want to see what we're doing
inside, though nothing is finished yet."

She led the way to a small room off the library, its long French
windows opening on a balcony.

"This room used to be a kind of a den, they tell me; so I've made it
into one, the first thing, you see."

There was a rug on the floor, a chair or two and a high mahogany desk
which gave the place a semblance of comfort amid the general
confusion. Miss Lois Daggett gazed about with argus-eyed curiosity.

"I don't know as I was ever in this room, when Andrew Bolton lived
here," she observed, "but it looks real homelike now."

"Poor man! I often think of him," said kindly Mrs. Daggett. "'Twould
be turrible to be shut away from the sunshine f'r even one year; but
poor Andrew Bolton's been closed up in State's prison fer--l' me see,
it mus' be goin' on--"

"It's fifteen years, come fall, since he got his sentence," stated
the spinster. "His time must be 'most up."

Lydia Orr had seated herself in an old-fashioned chair, its tall
carved back turned to the open windows.

"Did you--lose much in the bank failure, Miss Daggett?" she inquired,
after a slight pause, during which the promoter of Famous People was
loosening the strings of her black silk bag.

"About two hundred dollars I'd saved up," replied Miss Daggett. "By
now it would be a lot more--with the interest."

"Yes, of course," assented their hostess; "one should always think of
interest in connection with savings."

She appeared to be gazing rather attentively at the leather-bound
prospectus Miss Daggett had withdrawn from her bag.

"That looks like something i