e thought that her niece would ask George to come in and she would
not be in the way. Henry looked inquiringly at the two women, who had
an air of mystery, and Maria responded at once to his unspoken
question.

"George Ramsey is seeing her home," she said, "and the front-door key
is under the mat, and I thought Maria could ask him in, and I would
go home through the cellar, and not be in the way. Three is a
company." Maria said the last platitude with a silly simper.

"I never saw anything like you women," said Henry, with a look of
incredulous amusement. "I suppose you both of you have been making
her wedding-dress, and setting her up house-keeping, instead of
listening to the meeting."

"I heard every word," returned Maria, with dignity, "and it was a
very edifying meeting. It would have done some other folks good if
they had gone, and as for Maria, she can't teach school all her days,
and here is her father with a second wife."

"Well, you women do beat the Dutch," said her brother, with a
tenderly indulgent air, as if he were addressing children.

Aunt Maria lingered in her brother's side of the house, talking about
various topics. She hesitated even about her stealthy going through
the cellar, lest she should disturb Maria and her possible lover. Now
and then she listened. She stood close to the wall. Finally she said,
with a puzzled look to Eunice, who was smoothing out her
bonnet-strings, "It's queer, but I can't hear them talking."

"Maybe he didn't come in," said Eunice.

"If they are in the parlor, you couldn't hear them," said Henry,
still with his half-quizzical, half-pitying air.

"She would have taken him in the parlor--I should think she would
have known enough to," said Eunice; "and you can't always hear
talking in the parlor in this room."

Maria made a move towards her brother's parlor, on the other side of
the tiny hall.

"I guess you are right," said she, "and I know she would have taken
him in there. I started a fire in there on purpose before I went to
meeting. It was borne in upon me that somebody might come home with
her."

Maria tiptoed into the parlor, with Eunice, still smoothing her
bonnet-strings, at her heels. Both women stood close to the wall,
papered with white-and-gold paper, and listened.

"I can't hear a single thing," said Maria.

"I can't either," said Eunice. "I don't believe he did come in."

"It's dreadful queer, if he didn't," said Maria, "after the way he
eye