ner, and now he had no time to waste in
love-making. He saw Ethelyn, however, and felt that his room had never
been as pleasant as it was with her there in it, albeit her coming was
the cause of his books and papers being disturbed and tossed about and
moved where he had much trouble to find them. He felt glad, too, that
she was out of his mother's way, and feeling that all was well, he found
his papers and hurried off to the village again, while Ethelyn slept on
till Eunice Plympton came up to say that "Miss Jones and Melinda were
both in the parlor and wanted her to come down."

CHAPTER XI

CALLS AND VISITING

Mrs. Jones had risen earlier than usual that Monday morning, and felt
not a little elated when she saw her long line of snowy linen swinging
in the wind before that of her neighbor, whom she excused on the score
of Richard's wife. But when twelve o'clock, and even one o'clock struck,
and still the back yard gave no sign, she began to wonder "if any of
'em could be sick"; and never was flag of truce watched for more
anxiously than she watched for something which should tell that it was
all well at Sister Markham's.

The sign appeared at last, and with her fears quieted, Mrs. Jones
pursued the even tenor of her way until everything was done and her
little kitchen was as shining as soap and sand and scrubbing brush could
make it. Perhaps it was washing the patchwork quilt which Abigail had
pieced that brought the deceased so strongly to Mrs. Jones' mind, and
made her so curious to see Abigail's successor. Whatever it was, Mrs.
Jones was very anxious for a sight of Ethelyn; and when her work was
done she donned her alpaca dress, and tying on her black silk apron,
announced her intention of "running into Mrs. Markham's just a minute.
Would Melinda like to go along?"

Melinda had been once to no purpose, and she had inwardly resolved to
wait a while before calling again; but she felt that she would rather be
with her mother at her first interview with Ethelyn, for she knew she
could cover up some defects by her glibber and more correct manner of
conversing. So she signified her assent, but did not wear her best
bonnet as she had on Saturday night. This was only a run in, she said,
never dreaming that, "for fear of what might happen if she was urged to
stay to tea," her mother had deposited in her capacious pocket the
shirt-sleeve of unbleached cotton she was making for Tim.

And so about four o'clock the tw