r to respect his confidence.

"Yes, I mistrusted it was Charlotte Richards. Goodness has always been
Charlotte's specialty, so to speak, the kind of goodness," Persis
explained carefully, "that ain't good for anything in particular. And
she's lost thirty pounds?"

"I'd stake my professional reputation," said the doctor vehemently,
"that nothing ails that woman except that she thinks Heaven would be a
better background for her saintliness than earth. The question is
whether she can carry it to the point of suicide."

"Of course she can, if she wants to. I've seen it happen more'n once.
The thing to do is to give her a reason for wanting to stay on
earth--to look after things." Persis stood motionless, the hand
holding the shears extended in a fashion suggesting Lady Macbeth. A
spark of light illumined her meditative eyes.

"Well?" said the doctor hopefully. He recognized the signs.

"I won't say that I haven't got an idea, but it'll bear thinking
about"--Persis' favorite formula. "I'll try to find time to drop in
and see Charlotte."

"She doesn't need cheering, you understand," said the doctor. "She's
as cheerful as the devil himself. 'A very bad night, doctor, and the
palpitation is worse. This morning my Heavenly home seems very near.'"
He mimicked Mrs. Richards' sanctimonious tones with a skill which won
even from the abstracted Persis the tribute of a smile.

"No, I won't try to cheer her," she promised. "Stirring up, not
cheering up, is what Charlotte needs. And I don't say but what I've
got an idea. I can't spare any time for a few days, though, Doctor. I
need to do some sewing for myself, and I'm going to do it, come what
may."

Vain boast. Persis was washing the dishes after the midday meal when
Joel entered the kitchen to announce a caller. "It's the Chase girl,
Mildred I think her name is. Anyway, it's the oldest one. And I guess
she wants a dress made. She's got a bundle under her arm."

Persis thought this unlikely. "Those Chase girls make their own
clothes and do pretty well at it, too. I've often wanted to give 'em a
few hints about the shoulder seams, but except for that, they look real
shipshape. And anyway, I can't do anything for a week yet. I'm going
to attend to my own sewing."

Mildred Chase greeted Persis with a smile so radiant as to give a
misleading impression of comeliness. She shook hands with the
dressmaker, apparently struggling against an impulse to fall