hat I couldn't do
till next day."

"So should I."

Samson Rawdy stood at the coach-door, and both ladies stepped in.
Then he stood waiting expectantly for orders. The ladies looked at
each other.

"Where shall we go next?" asked Mrs. Lee.

"Well, I don't know," said Mrs. Van Dorn, hesitatingly. "We were
going to Mrs. Fairfield's next, but I am afraid there won't be time
if--"

"It really seems to me that we ought to go to call on those new
people," said Mrs. Lee.

"Well, I think so too. I suppose there would be time if Mrs.
Fairfield wasn't at home, and it is such a lovely day I doubt if she
is, and it is on the way to the Carrolls'." She spoke with sudden
decision to Samson Rawdy. "Drive to Mr. Andrew Fairfield's, and as
fast as you can, please." Then she and Mrs. Lee leaned back as the
coach whirled out of the Morris grounds.

It was only a short time before they wound swiftly around the small
curve of drive before the Fairfield house. "There is no need of both
of us getting out," said Mrs. Van Dorn.

Mrs. Van Dorn alighted and went swiftly with a tiptoeing effect upon
the piazza-steps. She was seen to touch the bell. She waited a short
space, and then she did not touch it again. She tucked the cards
under the door-step, and hurried back to the carriage.

"I knew she wasn't at home," said she, in a whisper, "it is such a
lovely day." She turned to Samson Rawdy, who stood holding open the
coach-door. "Now you may drive to those new people who have moved
into the Ranger place," said she, "Mrs. Carroll's."

Chapter II

There are days in spring wherein advance seems as passive as is the
progress of a log down the race of a spring freshet. Then there are
other days wherein it seems that every mote must feel to the full its
sentient life, and its swelling towards development or fulfilment. On
a day like the latter, everything and everybody bestirs. The dust
motes spin in whirling columns, the gnats dance for their lives their
dance of death before the wayfarer. The gardeners and the
grave-diggers turn up the earth with energy, making the clods fly
like water. The rich play, or work that they may play, as do the
poor. Everybody is up and wide awake and doing. The earth and the
habitations thereof are rubbed, cleaned, and swept, or skylarked
over; the boy plays with his marbles on the sidewalk or whoops over
the fields; the housewives fling wide open their house windows, and
the dust of the winter flies