earer, and
lowering her voice, which was never very loud--"I honestly believe that
Ritta Claiborne is in love with old Silas Tomlin! I certainly do."

"You must have some reason for believing that," said Mrs. Lumsden, with
a benevolent smile, the cause of which the ear-trumpet could not
interpret.

"Reasons! I have any number, Lucy. I'm certain you won't believe me, but
it has come to that pass that old Silas calls on her every night, and
they sit in the parlour there and talk by the hour, sometimes with
Eugenia, and sometimes without her. It would be no exaggeration at all
if I were to tell you that they are talking together in that parlour
five nights out of the seven. Now, what do they mean by that?"

"Why, there's nothing in that, Polly. I have heard that they are old
acquaintances. Surely old acquaintances can talk together, and be
interested in one another, without being in love. Why, very frequently
of late Meriwether Clopton comes here. I hope you don't think I'm in
love with him."

"Certainly not, Lucy, most certainly not. But do you have Meriwether's
portrait hanging in your parlour? And do you go and sit before it, and
study it, and sometimes shake your finger at it playfully? I tell you,
Lucy, there are some queer people in this world, and Ritta Claiborne is
one of them."

"She is excellent company," said Mrs. Lumsden.

"She is, she is," Miss Polly assented. "She is full of life and fun; she
sees the ridiculous side of everything; and that is why I can't
understand her fondness for old Silas. It is away beyond me. Why, Lucy,
she treats that portrait as if it were alive. What she says to it, I
can't tell you, for my hearing is not as good now as it was before my
ears were affected. But she says something, for I can see her lips move,
and I can see her smile. My eyesight is as good now as ever it was. I'm
telling you what I saw, not what I heard. The way she went on over that
portrait was what first attracted my attention; but for that I would
never have had a suspicion. Now, what do you think of it, Lucy?"

"Nothing in particular. If it is true, it would be a good thing for
Silas. He is not as mean as a great many people think he is."

"He may not be, Lucy," responded Miss Polly, "but he brings a bad taste
in my mouth every time I see him."

"Well, directly after Sherman passed through," said Mrs. Lumsden, "and
when few of us had anything left, Silas came to me, and asked if I
needed anything, and