The former Mrs. Dick welcomed her friends with cordial hands and tongue.

“I had almost despaired of you,” she told Miss Sterling and Polly, as she walked with them into the house.  “And I’m glad so many could come.  I didn’t know how it would be.  Awfully sad about Miss Twining, isn’t it?  I always liked Miss Twining.”

“Isn’t she lovable?” put in Polly.

“Yes, very.—­Take seats, all of you.  We were just speaking of Miss Twining—­I’m so sorry for her!  But if she is losing her mind, perhaps it will be providential for her to go soon.”

“’Losing her mind’!” exclaimed Miss Crilly.  “Who made up that whopper?”

“Why, isn’t she?  One of the Board told me—­Mrs. Brintnall.  I met her in town the other day.  I think it came straight from Miss Sniffen.  She said she was a great care, now that she has heart disease, and that she is liable to drop away any time.  Mrs. Brintnall spoke of her mind’s failing as if everybody knew it—­that a good many days she would seem as bright as ever, and then again she didn’t know much of anything and would be so obstinate and ugly that she’d have to be punished just like a child!  Isn’t that awful!  But you think it isn’t true!”

“Think!  I know it isn’t true! not a single word of it!” Polly was too excited to heed Miss Sterling’s warning pinch.

“I never saw anything out of the way in her,” attested Miss Mullaly.  “She has always appeared to me like a very cultured woman.”

“She is a perfect lady,” asserted Mrs. Winslow Teed.

“Yes, she is!” agreed Miss Castlevaine.  “I guess Miss Sniffen’s the one that’s losing her mind—­huh!”

“Is she as bad as ever?” queried Mrs. Tenney anxiously.

“Worse!” declared Miss Major.

“We don’t have pie or pudding now—­ever!” put in Miss Crilly eagerly.  “And we can’t talk at table, only just to ask for things!”

“Oh, my!” cried Mrs. Tenney.  “What does possess her!”

“Seven devils, I guess!” laughed Miss Crilly.

“Better put it seven hundred and seven!” flashed Polly.

They laughed, and the talk went on.  Miss Sterling watched the hostess.  She seemed years older than bright, cheery Mrs. Dick of the Home.  Sometimes she let the talk pass her by, or she only flung in a bitter little speech.  In the course of the afternoon, when the guests had wandered away from the dreary “front room” to the barn, the hennery, the garden, the orchard, Mrs. Tenney contrived to gather together her special cronies, Mrs. Albright, Miss Crilly, Miss Sterling, and Polly.

“Come inside!  I want to talk with you,” she told them.

“Say,” she began, in lowered voice, “do you s’pose there’s any chance in Miss Sniffen’s taking me back?”

Astonishment was plain on the faces before her.