etting out of young seedlings.

Fascinated, Ellen gazed, her wrath rising.

"Melviny!" she burst out at last, "come here!"

"Yes, Miss Webster."

"Who's that out in the garden?"

"Where?"

"Over there near the lilac hedge," specified Ellen impatiently.

Melvina rubbed her glasses then smothered a little gasp; but she quickly
recovered her wonted stolidity.

"It's Miss Lucy, I reckon," she said slowly.

"But the man--the man!" persisted Ellen. "Who is he?"

"Oh, the man. That's Mr. Howe--the one that lives next door."

"Martin Howe?"

"Yes, I believe they do call him Martin," responded Melvina imperturbably,
resuming her interrupted task of turning the mattress and plumping its
feathers into luxurious billows of softness.

Ellen did not speak immediately. When she did it was to ask:

"What's Martin Howe doin' on my land?"

"Helpin', I s'pose," Melvina replied with indifference. "He often does."

"He comes over here an' works?"

"Yes, marm."

Ellen brought her fist down on the arm of the chair with an exclamation of
anger. Her lips were white, and she trembled. Raising her unsteady finger,
she pointed toward the unconscious culprits.

"You go straight out there, Melvina," she cried, "an' tell Lucy I want
her."

"Yes, marm."

"Hurry!"

"Yes."

She watched while Melvina plodded across the grass and delivered her
message. Instantly Lucy dropped the basket and hastened toward the house.
Another moment the girl stood before her.

"You're worse, Aunt Ellen?" she said, panting for breath.

But Ellen ignored the question.

"What's Martin Howe doin' in my garden?" she demanded fiercely.

Lucy paled.

"He came over to help me transplant the larkspur."

"By what right does he come over here, I'd like to know?"

No reply came.

"Has he been over before?" interrogated Ellen ruthlessly.

"Yes."

"When?"

"Oh, off an' on. He's been trying to help out since you've been ill."

"Help out!" repeated Ellen scornfully. "The coward! He wouldn't have dared
set foot on the place if I'd been well."

"He isn't a coward!"

Lucy had drawn herself to her full height and now confronted her aunt with
blazing eyes. Ellen, however, was not to be deterred.

"He _is_ a coward!" she reiterated. "A coward an' a blackguard! A curse on
the Howes--the whole lot of 'em!"

"Stop!"

The intonation of the single word brought Ellen's harangue to an abrupt
cessation.

"You shan't speak so of Martin Howe or of h