something, whilst I'm working 'round th'
house. And it's amazing what thoughts'll come to a body from
somewheres.... What you going to do with them wreaths, Maria?"

"Why, I was thinking of putting 'em right up here," said Mrs. Dodge,
pointing.

"A good place," said Mrs. Daggett. "Remember Fanny peeking through
them wreaths last summer? Pretty as a pink! An' now she's Mis'
Reveren' Elliot. I seen him looking at her that night.... My! My!
What lots of things have took place in our midst since then."

Mrs. Dodge, from the lofty elevation of a stepladder, looked across
the room.

"Here comes Ann Whittle with two baskets," she said, "and Mrs.
Solomon Black carrying a big cake, and a whole crowd of ladies just
behind 'em."

"Glad they ain't going to be late like they was last year," said Mrs.
Daggett. "My sakes! I hadn't thought so much about that fair till
today; the scent of the evergreens brings it all back. We was
wondering who'd buy the things; remember, Maria?"

"I should say I did," assented Mrs. Dodge, hopping nimbly down from
the ladder. "There, that looks even nicer than it did at the fair;
don't you think so, Abby?"

"It looks perfectly lovely, Maria."

"Well, here we are at last," announced Mrs. Whittle as she entered.
"I had to wait till the frosting stiffened up on my cake."

She bustled over to a table and began to take the things out of her
baskets. Mrs. Daggett hurried forward to meet Mrs. Solomon Black, who
was advancing with slow majesty, bearing a huge disk covered with
tissue paper.

Mrs. Black was not the only woman in the town of Brookville who could
now boast sleeves made in the latest Parisian style. Her quick black
eyes had already observed the crisp blue taffeta, in which Mrs.
Whittle was attired, and the fresh muslin gowns decked with uncreased
ribbons worn by Mrs. Daggett and her friend, Maria Dodge. Mrs.
Solomon Black's water-waves were crisp and precise, as of yore, and
her hard red cheeks glowed like apples above the elaborate embroidery
of her dress.

"Here, Mis' Black, let me take your cake!" offered Abby Daggett. "I
sh'd think your arm would be most broke carryin' it all the way from
your house."

"Thank you, Abby; but I wouldn't das' t' resk changin' it; I'll set
it right down where it's t' go."

The brisk chatter and laughter, which by now had prevaded the big
place, ceased as by a preconcerted signal, and a dozen women gathered
about the table toward which Mrs. Solomon