. Merritt," said Mrs. Alger, with
the instructiveness of an old habitude.

"Well, not at Jocelyn's," suggested Barlow. Mrs. Alger stopped fanning
herself with her newspaper, and looked at him. Upon her motion, the
other ladies looked at Barlow. Doubtless he felt that his social
acceptability had ceased with his immediate usefulness. But he appeared
resolved to carry it off easily. "Well," he said, "I suppose I must go
and pick my peas."

No one said anything to this. When the factotum had disappeared round
the corner of the house, Mrs. Alger turned her head' aside, and glanced
downward with an air of fatigue. In this manner Barlow was dismissed
from the ladies' minds.

"I presume," said young Mrs. Scott, with a deferential glance at Grace,
"that the sun is good for a person with lung-difficulty."

Grace silently refused to consider herself appealed to, and Mrs. Merritt
said, "Better than the moon, I should think."

Some of the others tittered, but Grace looked up at Mrs. Merritt and
said, "I don't think Mrs. Maynard's case is so bad that she need be
afraid of either."

"Oh, I am so glad to hear it!" replied the other. She looked round, but
was unable to form a party. By twos or threes they might have liked to
take Mrs. Maynard to pieces; but no one cares to make unkind remarks
before a whole company of people. Some of the ladies even began to say
pleasant things about Mr. Libby, as if he were Grace's friend.

"I always like to see these fair men when they get tanned," said Mrs.
Alger. "Their blue eyes look so very blue. And the backs of their
necks--just like my boys!"

"Do you admire such a VERY fighting-clip as Mr. Libby has on?" asked
Mrs. Scott.

"It must be nice for summer," returned the elder lady.

"Yes, it certainly must," admitted the younger.

"Really," said another, "I wish I could go in the fighting-clip. One
does n't know what to do with one's hair at the sea-side; it's always in
the way."

"Your hair would be a public loss, Mrs. Frost," said Mrs. Alger. The
others looked at her hair, as if they had seen it now for the first
time.

"Oh, I don't think so," said Mrs. Frost, in a sort of flattered coo.

"Oh, don't have it cut off!" pleaded a young girl, coming up and taking
the beautiful mane, hanging loose after the bath, into her hand. Mrs.
Frost put her arm round the girl's waist, and pulled her down against
her shoulder. Upon reflection she also kissed her.

Through a superstition, hand