ut up, and that he wouldn't stay to give evidence
against poor Job, or be hauled before the coroner to be cross-questioned
about the old man. He's a sharp 'un; packed up in less time than it
takes most men to turn round--adjustable chair and all."

Eliza had come to the threshold of the bar-room door to hear all he
said. The sunshine of a perfect summer day fell on the verandah just
outside, and light airs came through the outer door and fanned her, but
in here the sweet air was tarnished with smoke from the cigars of one or
two loiterers.

Two men of the village were sitting with their hats on. As they said
"Good-day" to Eliza, they did not rise or take off their hats, not
because they did not feel towards her as a man would who would give this
civility, but because they were not in the habit of expressing their
feelings in that way. Another transient caller was old Dr. Nash, and he,
looking at Eliza, recognised in a dull way something in her appearance
which made him think her a finer woman than he had formerly supposed,
and, pulling off his hat, he made her a stiff bow.

Eliza spoke only to Mr. Hutchins: "I shall be gone about four hours; I
am going to the Rexfords to tea. You'd better look into the dining-room
once or twice when supper's on."

"All right," said he, adding, when the clock had had time to tick once,
"Miss White."

And the reason he affixed her name to his promise was the same that had
compelled Dr. Nash's bow--a sense of her importance growing upon him;
but the hotel-keeper observed, what the old doctor did not, that the
gown was silk.

"Fine woman that, sir," he remarked, when she was gone, to anyone who
might wish to receive the statement.

"Well," said one of the men, "I should just think it."

"She seems," said Dr. Nash, stiffly, "to be a good girl and a clever
one."

"She isn't _just_ now what I'd call a gurl," said the man who had
answered first. "She's young, I know; but now, if you see her walking
about the dining-room, she's more like a _queen_ than a _gurl_."

Without inquiring into the nature of this distinction Dr. Nash got into
his buggy. As he drove down the street under the arching elm trees he
soon passed Eliza on her way to the Rexfords, and again he lifted his
hat. Eliza, with grave propriety, returned the salutation.

The big hawthorn tree at the beginning of Captain Rexford's fence was
thickly bedecked with pale scarlet haws. Eliza opened the gate beside it
and turned