ey tells me you won't go into one of the new houses, nohow."

"And why should I, tell me thot!" began Mrs. Flaherty on a high key,
just as Joyce stepped graciously forward, with the words,

"Isn't this the Mrs. Hemphill I remember?"

The latter turned quickly.

"Hey? Oh, why yes, I do mind you now. Let's see, you come to sell a
washin' machine, didn't you? Or was it a story-paper? Oh! no, now I
know," darting suspicious glances over the head of the child in her
arms, "you was talkin' about schools and tryin' to get one up."

"Well, partly," answered Joyce, rather crestfallen, and glanced up to
meet the dancing eyes of Larry, who was passing by and caught the
high-keyed sentence. "But you know I have come here to live now, and I
assure you I am not a teacher--just a private citizen."

"Do tell! Well, I thought you was something or other--they's sech a raft
of agents along; though my Mary tells me 'tain't a circumstance to the
city--Mate works out in the city. Let me make you acquainted with Mis'
Flaherty. She's the lady what lives in Bachelor's Row and takes in
boarders and washin's--now, Johnny, you stop a-tuggin' at my skirts,
will ye? You've started the gethers a'ready.--She ain't exactly a
bachelor herself, but she's next to it--a widder woman. He! he!"

Mrs. Hemphill's laughter was so much like the "crackling of thorns under
a pot" as to be far from pleasant. Joyce hastened to speak.

"But I can't see why you preferred not to move, Mrs. Flaherty. Don't you
like the new houses?" she asked, a bit anxiously, looking from one to
the other and feeling decidedly wet-blanketed.

"Oh, they'll do," nodding the cap frills vigorously. "It ain't fur the
loikes o' me to be sayin' anythin' agin 'em, but I never did take to
these new-fangled doin's, 'm. I've heered tell how them water pipes'll
be afther busting up with the first frost, just like an old gun, and I
don't want any sich doin's on my premises. No _sir_! I ain't so old but
I can pump water out of a well yet, and it's handy enough.' 'Tain't
more'n just across the strate, and whin 'tain't dusty, nur snowy, nur
muddy, it's all right enough."

"Well, I don't carry water when I can make it run by turning a
stopple--not much I don't!" cried Mrs. Hemphill vigorously, meanwhile
tilting back and forth on heels and toes with a jolting motion which was
gradually producing drowsiness in the infant she held. "And my man says
it can't freeze in them pipes 'cause the nateral