ding to her bent. Mrs. Haight
was far too cunning to detain them from the tables they fairly rushed at
as the last member arrived, and it was not until they had "scrapped" and
wrestled and stormed at and abused each other for at least two hours,
not until their ugly passions were in full possession, and they threw
down their cards with loud indignation that a substitute should be
allowed "to compete for a prize, anyhow"--the substitute having won the
spoon--that the hostess, with the peculiar slow fire in her eyes that
marks the beast of prey in sight of its quarry, suddenly let it be
understood that the high tension was to be relieved with a choice bit of
scandal. It was some time since they had had one; propriety, like
business honesty, being almost inevitable in a community little larger
than a throne.

Mrs. Wheaton exclaimed: "Your eyes look like two burnt holes in a
blanket, Minerva. What is it? Hurry up. I must run home and supervise a
new Swede that speaks ten words of English. She asked me if I wanted
young children for dinner. I suppose she meant chickens, but one never
knows, and Anabel's babies are just over the fence."

"It's this, and it's no joking matter, Sarah Wheaton. I saw Mr. Gwynne
pass this house at three o'clock this morning, and on Isabel Otis's
horse. Now, I saw him going out to Old Inn, _walking_ before sundown.
He had plenty of time to say what he had to say and get home at a decent
hour--which is long before half-past ten, and that's what it's been many
a night. This thing has become a scandal to the community, and I for one
won't stand it any longer. Its downright immoral, and I'm not using too
strong language purposely."

"Oh my!" exclaimed Dolly Boutts. "You could never make me believe
anything against Isabel. He's studying terribly hard--the judge told
pa--and likely as not has insomnia. Englishmen are so terribly dull to
talk to I shouldn't wonder if it was hard work for them to learn
anything."

"Insomnia!" cried Mrs. Haight. "I guess I have insomnia and I guess I
know what I am talking about. What does a kid like you know of the
wickedness of the world, or insomnia either? But this has gone just as
far as _I_ intend to permit it."

"It certainly looks very bad, very bad," muttered Mrs. Wheaton, whose
own light eyes were glowing. "What steps shall you take, Minerva? Or
what should you advise me to do? I am sorry I had forgotten the girl. I
should have kept the eye on her that I int