orts she rose with ponderous slowness into a sitting
position. The rest was easy. With Persis boosting and panting
encouragement, the unhappy exponent of other people's theories regained
her feet and tottered to a chair.

"Goodness, gracious, Persis, I'm as limp as a wash-rag. No more
rolling for me, not if I get up to three hundred pounds." She looked
at her friend appealingly. "Don't ask me to stand up and be fitted,
Persis. There's no more starch in my knees than if they were pieces of
string."

Persis made haste to disclaim any such intention. "What you want is a
fan, Mis' West, and a cup of tea, to quiet your nerves down. You've
got to get braced up before Mr. West comes in, or he'll be at you to
find out what the trouble is. And when a man gets a little joke like
this on his wife, he's bound to make it last the rest of his natural
life."

Leaving her friend to compose herself, Persis hurried to the kitchen
and brewed the restorative cup of tea she had recommended. As she
carried it to her patient the telephone lifted up its voice.

Mrs. West counted the rings. "One, two, three, four. That's Nellie
Gibson's call, Persis. I wish you'd listen and see if you can find out
if Josephine Newhall has got there yet. Nellie's been talking of that
visit all winter."

Persis complied unhesitatingly. In Clematis no kill-joy had arisen to
question the propriety of listening to the conversation of the other
subscribers to a party line. It was the universal understanding that
one of the foremost if not the chief advantage in having a telephone,
was the gratification to be derived from overhearing the confidences of
one's neighbors. To have denominated this eavesdropping, would have
aroused general indignation.

Persis took down the telephone without a qualm and instantly recognized
the high-pitched voice of Mrs. Gibson, Thomas Hardin's sister. She was
speaking more loudly than is necessary in such conversation and with a
seeming lack of amiability.

"Well if you won't come to supper to-night, when will you come? Set a
time right now."

"Really I don't know, Nellie." Persis started as the gentle
deprecating tones reached her ears. "I'm pretty busy at this season.
I guess I hadn't better say--"

"Fiddlesticks and folderol! I know just how busy you are. I guess if
Persis Dale hadn't thrown you over like a worn-out shoe, you'd have
found time enough to get over to see her every blessed night of the