“Where are Mrs. Sloman and Miss Stewart?  Are they not in Lenox?”

“Miss’ Sloman, she’s away to Minnarsoter:  ben thar’ all winter for her health.  She don’t cal’late to be home afore June.”

“And Miss Stewart?—­is she with her?”

“Miss Stewart?  I dunno,” said the woman, with a strange look about the corners of her mouth.  “I dunno:  I never see her; and the family was all away afore I came here to take charge.  They left the kitchen-end open for me; and my sister-in-law—­that’s Hiram Splinter’s wife—­she made all the ’rangements.  But I did hear,” hesitating a moment, “as how Bessie Stewart was away to Shaker Village; and some does say “—­a portentous pause and clearing of her throat—­“that she’s jined.”

“Joined—­what?” I asked, all in a mist of impatience and perplexity.

“Jined the Shakers.”

“Nonsense!” I said, recovering my breath angrily.  “Where is this Hiram’s wife?  Let me see her.”

“In the back lot—­there where you see the yaller house where the chimney’s smoking.  That’s Hiram’s house.  He has charge of the Gold property on the hill.  Won’t you come in and warm yourself by the fire in the kitchen?  I was away to the next neighbor’s, and I was sure I hear our bell a-ringin’.  Did you hev’ to ring long?”

But I was away, striding over the cabbage-patch and climbing the worm-fence that shut in the estate of Hiram.  Some wretched mistake:  the woman does not know what she’s talking about.  These Splinters! they seem to have had some communication with Mrs. Sloman:  they will know.

Mrs. Splinter, a neat, bright-eyed woman of about twenty-five, opened the door at my somewhat peremptory knock.  I recollected her in a moment as a familiar face—­some laundress or auxiliary of the Sloman family in some way; and she seemed to recognize me as well:  “Why! it’s Mr. Munro!  Walk in, sir, and sit down,” dusting off a chair with her apron as she spoke.

“Miss Stewart—­where is she? You know.”

“Miss Stewart?” said the woman, sinking down into a chair and looking greatly disturbed.  “Miss Stewart’s gone to live with the Shakers.  My husband drove her over with his team—­her and her trunk.”

“Why, where was her aunt?  Did Mrs. Sloman know?  Why isn’t Miss Bessie with her?”

“Miss’ Sloman said all she could—­afterward I guess,” said the woman, wiping her eyes, “but ‘twan’t no use then.  You see, Miss’ Sloman had jined a party that was goin’ to Minnesota—­while she was in Philadelfy, that was—­and Miss Stewart she wasn’t goin’.  She reckoned she’d spend the winter here in the house.  Miss’ Sloman’s maid—­that’s Mary—­was goin’ with her to the West, and I was to hire my sister-in-law to take charge of things here, so that Miss Bessie could have her mind free-like to come and go.  But afore ever Mary Jane—­that’s my sister-in-law—­could come over from Lee, where she was livin’ out,