be their solid silver," said Mrs. Van Dorn, regarding
rather an ostentatious display on the sideboard.

"The idea of going away and leaving all that silver, and the doors
unlocked!" said Mrs. Lee.

"Evidently they are people so accustomed to rich things that they
don't think of such risks," said Mrs. Van Dorn, with a curious effect
of smacking her lips over possessions of her own, instead of her
neighbors. She in reality spoke from the heights of a small but solid
silver service, and a noble supply of spoons, and Mrs. Lee knew it.

"I suppose they must have perfectly beautiful table-linen," remarked
Mrs. Lee, with a wistful glance at the sideboard-drawers.

"Yes, I suppose so," assented Mrs. Van Dorn, with a half-sigh. Her
eyes also on the closed drawers of the sideboard, were melancholy,
but there was a line which neither woman could pass. They could pry
about another woman's house in her absence, but they shrank from
opening her drawers and investigating her closets. They respected all
that was covered from plain sight. Up-stairs it was the same. Things
were strewn about rather carelessly, therefore they saw more than
they would otherwise have done, but the closet-doors and the
bureau-drawers happened to be closed, and those were inviolate.

"If all their clothes are as nice as these, they must have wardrobes
nicer than any ever seen in Banbridge," said Mrs. Lee, fingering
delicately a lace-trimmed petticoat flung over a chair in one of the
bedrooms. "This is real lace, don't you think so, Mrs. Van Dorn?"

"I don't think. I know," replied Mrs. Van Dorn. "They must have
elegant wardrobes, and they must be very wealthy people. They--"
Suddenly Mrs. Van Dorn cut her remarks short. She turned quite pale
and clutched at her companion's silk-clad arm. "Hush!" she whispered.
"What was that?"

Mrs. Lee, herself ashy white, looked at her. Both had distinctly
heard a noise. Now they heard it again. The sound was that of
footsteps, evidently those of a man, in the lower hall.

"What shall we do? Oh, what shall we do?" said Mrs. Lee, in a thin
whisper. She trembled so that she could scarcely stand.

Mrs. Van Dorn, trying to speak, only chattered. She clutched Mrs. Lee
harder.

"Is there a back staircase? Oh, is there?" whispered Mrs. Lee. "Is
there?" The odor of a cigar stole softly through the house. "I can
smell his cigar," whispered Mrs. Lee, in an agony.

Mrs. Van Dorn pulled herself together. She nodded, and beg