er head and set off down the
street. She and her friend were not dwellers on the mean street, and so
they could pretend to so nearly an equal social footing with Miss Prime
as to admit of an occasional neighbourly call.

Through the window Miss Prime saw her visitor approaching, and a grim
smile curved the corners of her mouth. "Comin' fur news," muttered the
spinster. "She 'll git all she wants before she goes." But there was no
trace of suspicion in her manner as she opened the door at Mrs. Martin's
rap.

"Hey oh, Miss Hester, busy as usual, I see."

"Yes, indeed. People that try to do their dooty 'ain't got much time fur
rest in this world."

"No, indeed; it's dig, dig, dig, and work, work, work."

"Take off yore shawl an' set down, Sallie. It 's a wonder you don't take
yore death o' cold or git plum full o' neuralgy, a-runnin' around in
this weather with nothin' but a shawl over yore head."

"La, Miss Hester, they say that worthless people 's hard to kill. It
ain't allus true, though, fur there was poor Margar't Brent, she was n't
worth much, but my! she went out like a match."

"Yes, but matches don't go out until their time ef they 're held down
right; an' it 's jest so with people."

"That 's true enough, Miss Hester. Was you to Margar't's funeral?"

"Oh, yes, I went."

"Did you go out to the cimetery?"

"Oomph huh."

"Did she look natural?"

"Jest as natural as one could expect after a hard life an' a hard
death."

"Pore Margar't!" Mrs. Martin sighed. There was a long and embarrassed
silence. Miss Prime's lips were compressed, and she seemed more
aggressively busy than usual. She bustled about as if every minute were
her last one. She brushed off tables, set chairs to rights, and tried
the golden-brown cup-cake with a straw to see if it were done. Her
visitor positively writhed with curiosity and discomfiture. Finally she
began again. "Margar't only had one child, did n't she?"

"Yes, that was all."

"Pore little lamb. Motherless childern has a hard time of it."

"Indeed, most of 'em do."

"Do you know what 's become of the child, Miss Hester?"

"Yes, I do, Sallie Martin, an' you do too, or you would n't be a-settin'
there beatin' about the bush, askin' me all these questions."

This sudden outburst gave Mrs. Martin quite a turn, but she exclaimed,
"I declare to goodness, Miss Hester, I 'ain't heerd a livin' thing about
it, only--"

She checked herself, but her relentless hostess caug