e walk together. Lois watched them. The coming
of all these people was to her like the closing in of a crowd of
witnesses, and for her guilt instead of her mother's. The minister's
wife looked up and nodded graciously to her, setting the bunch of red
and white cherries on her bonnet trembling. Lois inclined her pale
young face soberly in response.

"That girl looks sick," said the minister's wife to Mrs. Lowe.

There was no more silence and primness after the minister's wife
entered. Her florid face beamed on them all with masterly smiles. She
put the glasses fastened to her high satin bosom with a gold chain to
her eyes, and began sewing on a white apron. "I meant to have come
before," said she, "and brought my sewing and had a real sociable
time, but one thing after another has delayed me; and I don't know
when Mr. Wheeler will get here; I left him with a caller. But we have
been delayed very pleasantly in one respect;" she looked smilingly
and significantly at Mrs. Maxwell.

All the other ladies stared. Mrs. Maxwell, standing in their midst,
with a large cambric apron over her dress, and a powder of flour on
one cheek, looked wonderingly back at the minister's wife.

"I suppose you all know what I mean?" said Mrs. Wheeler, still
smiling. "I suppose Mrs. Maxwell has not kept the glad tidings to
herself." In spite of her smiling face, there was a slight doubt and
hesitancy in her manner.

Mrs. Maxwell's old face suddenly paled, and at the same time grew
alert. Her black eyes, on Mrs. Wheeler's face, were sharply bright.

"Mebbe I have, an' mebbe I ain't," said she, and she smiled too.

"Well," said the minister's wife, "I told Flora that her mother must
be a brave woman to invite company to tea the afternoon her daughter
was married, and I thought we all ought to appreciate it."

The other women gasped. Mrs. Maxwell's face was yellow-white in its
framework of curls; there was a curious noise in her throat, like a
premonitory click of a clock before striking.

"Well," said she, "Flora 'd had this day set for the weddin' for six
months. When her uncle died, we talked a little about puttin' of it
off, but she thought 'twas a bad sign. So it seemed best for her to
get married without any fuss at all about it. An' I thought if I had
a little company to tea, it would do as well as a weddin'."

Mrs. Maxwell's old black eyes travelled slowly and unflinchingly
around the company, resting on each in turn as if she ha