l common, you know."

Miss Bascom raised her lorgnette in pained surprise and gazed at
Donald curiously; then she sighed and tapping her fingers with her
glasses replied:

"But one has to consider the social responsibilities of one's
position, you know. Many of the village people are well enough in
their way, really quite amusing as individuals; but one cannot alter
social distinctions."

"I see," replied Donald, non-committally.

Virginia was beginning to think that the new rector was rather dull in
his perceptions, rather _gauche_, but, deciding to take a charitable
view, she held out her hand with a beaming smile as she said:

"Remember, you are to make Willow Bluff one of your homes. We shall
always be charmed to see you."

When, after their respective shoppings were completed, Maxwell
rejoined Mrs. Burke, and they had started on a brisk trot towards
home, she remarked:

"So you have had a visit with the Senior Warden."

"Yes, and with Miss Bascom. She came into the office while I was
there."

"Hm! Well! She's one of your flock!"

"Would you call Miss Bascom one of my lambs?" asked Donald
mischievously.

"Oh, that depends on where you draw the line. Don't you think she's
handsome?"

"I can hardly say. What do you think about it?"

"Oh, I don't know. When she's well dressed she has a sort of style
about her; but isn't it merciful that we none of us know how we really
do look? If we did, we wouldn't risk bein' alone with ourselves five
minutes without a gun."

"Is that one for Miss Bascom?"

"No, I ought not to say a word against Virginia Bascom. She's a good
sort accordin' to her lights; and then too, she is a disconnection of
mine by marriage--once removed."

"How do you calculate that relationship?"

"Oh, her mother's brother married my sister. She suspected that he was
guilty of incompatibility--and she proved it, and got a divorce. If
that don't make a disconnection of Ginty Bascom, then I don't know
what does. Virginia was born in Boston, though she was brought up
here. It must be terrible to be born in Boston, and have to live up to
it, when you spend your whole life in a place like Durford. But Ginty
does her very best, though occasionally she forgets."

"You can hardly blame her for that. Memory is tricky, and Boston and
Durford are about as unlike as two places well could be."

"Oh, no; I don't blame her. Once she formed a club for woman's
suffrage. She set out to 'form my mind'--a