nicest," said Mrs. Arbuthnot. "And it isn't
hers."

"Oh but there are lots of other places, and she's such a poor old
thing. Let her have the room. Whatever does it matter?"

And Mrs. Wilkins said she was going down to the village to find
out where the post-office was and post her letter to Mellersh, and
would Rose go too.

"I've been thinking about Mellersh," said Mrs. Wilkins as they
walked, one behind the other, down the narrow zigzag path up which they
had climbed in the rain the night before.

She went first. Mrs. Arbuthnot, quite naturally now, followed.
In England it had been the other way about--Lotty, timid, hesitating,
except when she burst out so awkwardly, getting behind the calm and
reasonable Rose whenever she could.

"I've been thinking about Mellersh," repeated Mrs. Wilkins over
her shoulder, as Rose seemed not to have heard.

"Have you?" said Rose, a faint distaste in her voice, for her
experiences with Mellersh had not been of a kind to make her enjoy
remembering him. She had deceived Mellersh; therefore she didn't like
him. She was unconscious that this was the reason of her dislike, and
thought it was that there didn't seem to be much, if any, of the grace
of god about him. And yet how wrong to feel that, she rebuked herself,
and how presumptuous. No doubt Lotty's husband was far, far nearer to
God than she herself was ever likely to be. Still, she didn't like
him.

"I've been a mean dog," said Mrs. Wilkins.

"A what?" asked Mrs. Arbuthnot, incredulous of her hearing.

"All this coming away and leaving him in that dreary place while
I rollick in heaven. He had planned to take me to Italy for Easter
himself. Did I tell you?"

"No," said Mrs. Arbuthnot; and indeed she had discouraged talk
about husbands. Whenever Lotty had begun to blurt out things she had
swiftly changed the conversation. One husband led to another, in
conversation as well as in life, she felt, and she could not, she would
not, talk of Frederick. Beyond the bare fact that he was there, he had
not been mentioned. Mellersh had had to be mentioned, because of his
obstructiveness, but she had carefully kept him from overflowing
outside the limits of necessity.

"Well, he did," said Mrs. Wilkins. "He had never done such a
thing in his life before, and I was horrified. Fancy--just as I had
planned to come to it myself."

She paused on the path and looked up at Rose.

"Yes," said Rose, trying to think of s