door a glimpse of marvellously starched calico.

"You go 'long and keep out from under my feet," had been B'lindy's
retort as she retreated from Nancy's threatened attack. "I guess
there's work has to be done before _this_ party's over!" But the
grumbling in her voice could not conceal her pride and satisfaction.

"Oh, _everything_ is just lovely," Nancy exclaimed, tiptoeing about to
add a finishing touch here and there. And indeed, some magic wand
seemed to have scattered gladness everywhere about the old place; the
great rooms, open now to the sunshine, radiated it in the fragrance of
the flowers that Nancy had heaped everywhere.

"I wish it would stay like this," was her unspoken thought.

But in her plans for the party which was to show all Freedom that Happy
House _was_ a happy house, Nancy had reckoned without Mrs. Cyrus Eaton.

Since trouble had shadowed Happy House and shut its hospitable doors,
time had brought changes to Freedom just as it had to every place on
the globe; commerce, trade, politics, a certain democratizing of the
standards of living had made their inroads even upon the little
village; new families came and old ones died out. And new influences
challenged and threatened the old Island aristocracy.

Not the least of these was the influence of trade. When Cyrus Eaton
bought and rebuilt the general store next to the post-office he made
for himself--or for his wife--a social prestige that was beyond
dispute. As the years had gone by he had strengthened this materially
by certain credits which he extended to different families in the
village.

Webb had gone to Mrs. Eaton's first with his invitation and his story.
That lady had flipped the little card upon the table with a snort. Did
Miss Leavitt or anyone _else_ think she'd go anywhere where those
Hopworths were? Was it not her duty, too, to warn her friends as to
what this party would be like--to tell them of this hoydenish,
impertinent girl, "of the bad branch of the family," who seemed to have
hypnotized Miss Sabrina?

By the time Mrs. Eaton had finished her baking, put on her best purple
poplin and started out in Webb's trail, her rage had carried her to
such heights of eloquence that it was not difficult for her to convince
her neighbors that some "hoax" was about to be played upon the good
folks of Freedom and that each one must show her pride by remaining
away from the party. She talked so fast, and repeated her stories so
of