One afternoon, early in April, as Margaret sat in her chamber, busy upon a piece of needlework, the door softly opened, and a mass of bright chestnut curls became visible; next appeared the laughing blue eyes; and finally the whole of Kate Kirby bounded into the room saying, “Good afternoon, Maggie; are you very busy, and wish I hadn’t come?”

“I am never too busy to see you,” answered Margaret, at the same time pushing toward Kate the little ottoman on which she always sat when in that room.

Kate took the proffered seat, and throwing aside her bonnet, began with, “Maggie, I want to tell you something, though I don’t know as it is quite right to do so; still you may as well hear it from me as any one.”

“Do pray tell,” answered Mag, “I am dying with curiosity.”

So Kate smoothed down her black silk apron, twisted one of her curls into a horridly ugly shape, and commenced with, “What kind of a woman is that Mrs. Carter, down in the village?”

Instantly Margaret’s suspicions were aroused, and starting as if a serpent had stung her, she exclaimed, “Mrs. Carter! is it of her you will tell me?  She is a most dangerous woman—­a woman whom your mother would call a ‘snake in the grass.’”

“Precisely so,” answered Kate.  “That is just what mother says of her, and yet nearly all the village are ready to fall down and worship her.”

“Let them, then,” said Mag; “I have no objections, provided they keep their molten calf to themselves.  No one wants her here.  But what is it about her?—­tell me.”

Briefly then Kate told her how Mr. Hamilton was, and for a long time had been, in the habit of spending one evening every week with Mrs. Carter; and that people, not without good cause, were already pointing her out as the future mistress of the homestead.

“Never, never!” cried Mag vehemently.  “Never shall she come here.  She our mother indeed!  It shall not be, if I can prevent it.”

After a little further conversation, Kate departed, leaving Mag to meditate upon the best means by which to avert the threatened evil.  What Kate had told her was true.  Mr. Hamilton had so many questions to ask concerning his old classmates, and Mrs. Carter had so much to tell, that, though they had worked industriously all winter, they were not through yet; neither would they be until Mrs. Carter found herself again within the old homestead.

The night following Kate’s visit Mag determined to speak with her father; but immediately after tea he went out, saying he should not return until nine o’clock.  With a great effort Mag forced down the angry words which she felt rising within her, and then seating herself at her work she resolved to await his return.  Not a word on the subject did she say to Carrie, who retired to her room at half-past eight, as was her usual custom.  Alone now Margaret waited.  Nine, ten, eleven had been struck, and then into the sitting-room came Mr. Hamilton, greatly astonished at finding his daughter there.