emember them days, Mis'
Tuttle, when we all went bathin' together down to old Chadwick's Harbor,
afore they built the new wharf?"

Mrs. Tinneray continued reminiscently.

"You remember them old dresses we wore--no classy bathin'-suits
then--but my--the mornings used to smell good! That path to the shore
was all wild roses and we used to find blueberries in them woods. Us
girls was always teasin' Hetty, her bathin'-dress was white muslin and
when it was wet it stuck to her all over, she showed through--my, how
we'd laugh, but yet for all," concluded Mrs. Tinneray sentimentally,
"she looked lovely--just like a little wet angel."

Mrs. Tuttle carefully smoothed her blue mitts, observing nervously,
"Funny how Mis' Tinneray could remember so far back."

"Is Hetty your sister by rights," suavely inquired Mrs. Bean, "or ony by
your Pa's second marriage, as it were?"

The owner of the overestimated parrot roused herself.

"By rights," she admitted indifferently, "I don't see much of her--she
married beneath her."

The tip of Mrs. Tinneray's nose, either from cologne inhalings or
sunburn, grew suddenly scarlet. However she still regarded the far-off
horizons and repeated the last stanza of her hymn, which stanza, sung
with much quavering and sighing was a statement to the effect that Mrs.
Tinneray would "cling to the old rugged cross." Suddenly, however, she
remarked to the surrounding Summer air,

_"Hen Cronney is my second cousin on the mother's side. Some thought he
was pretty smart until troubles come and his wife was done out of her
rights._"

The shaft, carefully aimed, went straight into Mrs. Turtle's blue bosom
and stuck there. Her eyes, not overintelligent, turned once in her
complacent face, then with an air of grandiose detachment, she occupied
herself with the ends of her sky-blue automobile veil.

"I'll have to fix this different," she remarked unconcernedly, "or else
my waves'll come out. Well, I presume we'll soon be there. I better go
down-stairs and primp up some." The high heels clattered away. Mrs. Bean
fixed a long look of horror on Mrs. Tinneray, who silently turned her
eyes up to heaven!

As the _Fall of Rome_ churned its way up to the sunny wharf of
Chadwick's Landing, the groups already on the excursion bristled with
excitement. Children were prepared to meet indulgent grandparents,
lovers their sweethearts, and married couples old school friends they
had not seen for years. From time to tim