"

The village gossip was not monopolized by the frequenters of Barnes'
store. Indeed it seemed as if the place had taken on new life and
ambition, and if at any corner or turn of the road one chose to listen, he
could often hear a few stray bits of conversation in regard to the
interests which lay nearest to the hearts of the various newsmongers.

Of all the tale-bearers, and there were many, none were as harmless, and
at the same time as busy as Mrs. Hodgkins.

Walking down a shady lane one might espy her endeavoring to hold a
friendly confab with some busy farmer's wife who, while hanging out her
washing, endeavored to hold a clothespin in her mouth, and at the same
time answer Mrs. Hodgkins' frequent questions, such as,

"Naow did ye ever hear anything ter beat that?

"Ain't ye amazed at the idee?"

Mrs. Hodgkins would on such occasions, lean against the rail fence and
bombard the busy woman alternately with bits of news, and pointed
questions until, the last piece of linen in place upon the line, the empty
basket would be a signal for adieus.

Then Sophrony Hodgkins would meander down the lane, and if fortune favored
her, would find at the next farm-house its mistress possibly at the well
or sunning her milk pans in a corner of the door-yard.

Immediately she would hail her with joy and proceed to repeat her own
stock of news with the addition of a few particulars gleaned from the
first friend.

"Sophrony Hodgkins' stories," remarked old Nate Burnham, "remind me of the
snowballs we used ter roll and roll 'til from a leetle ball we finally by
rollin' an' trav'lin' got one bigger'n all creation.

"She starts in with what _she's_ heard. Then she adds on what somebody
else has heard, and after that, what this one an' that one and t'other one
has heard, 'til the size of the yarn must astonish her."

"I'll say one thing 'bout her, though," remarked Silas Barnes, "with all
her talkin' an' tellin' she never tells anything that's detrimental to
somebody's character. She's full er tellin' ordinary news, but when it
comes ter news that would stir up strife, Sophrony's got nothin' ter say;
so let her talk, I say, ef she enjoys it; she 'muses herself an' don't
hurt no one else."

On the sunny morning when Barnes' store had been the scene of the gossip
and discussion in regard to the new quarters for the school, Sophrony
Hodgkins had made an early start on a "c'lection tour," as old Nate
Burnham would have called i