Minnie and the kids are going to visit her folks out West this summer;
so I wouldn't so much as dare to say 'Good morning!' to the Devine
woman. Anyway, a person wouldn't talk to her, I suppose. But I kind
of thought I'd tell you about her.

"Thanks!" said the Very Young Husband dryly.

In the early spring, before Blanche Devine moved in, there came
stone-masons, who began to build something. It was a great stone
fireplace that rose in massive incongruity at the side of the little
white cottage. Blanche Devine was trying to make a home for herself.

Blanche Devine used to come and watch them now and then as the work
progressed. She had a way of walking round and round the house,
looking up at it and poking at plaster and paint with her umbrella or
finger tip. One day she brought with her a man with a spade. He
spaded up a neat square of ground at the side of the cottage and a long
ridge near the fence that separated her yard from that of the Very
Young Couple next door. The ridge spelled sweet peas and nasturtiums
to our small-town eyes.

On the day that Blanche Devine moved in there was wild agitation among
the white-ruffed bedroom curtains of the neighborhood. Later on certain
odors, as of burning dinners, pervaded the atmosphere. Blanche Devine,
flushed and excited, her hair slightly askew, her diamond eardrops
flashing, directed the moving, wrapped in her great fur coat; but on
the third morning we gasped when she appeared out-of-doors, carrying a
little household ladder, a pail of steaming water, and sundry
voluminous white cloths. She reared the little ladder against the side
of the house, mounted it cautiously, and began to wash windows with
housewifely thoroughness. Her stout figure was swathed in a gray
sweater and on her head was a battered felt hat--the sort of
window--washing costume that has been worn by women from time
immemorial. We noticed that she used plenty of hot water and clean
rags, and that she rubbed the glass until it sparkled, leaning
perilously sideways on the ladder to detect elusive streaks. Our
keenest housekeeping eye could find no fault with the way Blanche
Devine washed windows.

By May, Blanche Devine had left off her diamond eardrops--perhaps it
was their absence that gave her face a new expression. When she went
downtown we noticed that her hats were more like the hats the other
women in our town wore; but she still affected extravagant footgear, as
is right and pro