“I don’t always seem to know what art is,” admitted Alicia, dovelike.

The lady who “moved among us clothed in white samite” smiled encouragingly.

“That is because you are really little more than a child,” she said kindly.  “When you begin to grow, you will improve your mind.”

Alicia puckered her brows.  “Ah, but I’m Irish!” she said, seriously, “and the Irish hate to have to improve their minds.  I imagine it takes an able-bodied mind to stand intensive cultivation,” she added, guilelessly.

Miss Hopkins smiled:  it was a masterpiece, that smile!

“But why, may I ask, did you choose such a situation for the statue?” she inquired critically.  “Now, I should never dream of tucking it in such an out-of-the-way place!”

The pucker came back to Alicia’s brow.

“Shouldn’t you?” she wondered.  “I shall make a point of mentioning that to Mr. Nicholas Jelnik, if you don’t mind.  You see, he chose that spot, and we rather like it, ourselves.”

Miss Hopkins stopped dead short, and Mrs. Haile started in spite of herself.  Evidently, the situation was beyond them.  Didn’t we know?  How much had Judge Gatchell seen fit to tell us?  Alicia had dropped a bomb-shell that before night would detonate in every house in Hyndsville.  They haven’t very much to talk about in small towns, except one another, and when a plump mouse of gossip frisks about whisking his tail, why, it is cat nature to pounce upon it.

“Mr. Jelnik!” said Miss Hopkins, with an accent.  “Oh, I see.  Well—­he is a neighbor, of course.  Certainly if Mr. Jelnik selected that particular spot for the statue—­he of all people has the best right to do so—­and to have his wishes considered.”

“Of course.  He has lived abroad, and seen everything of art there is to see,” Alicia agreed, placidly.  Which wasn’t at all what Miss Hopkins meant.

We could see those two women turning the thing over and over in their minds—­Nicholas Jelnik, last heir and descendant of Richard Hynds, tactily (perhaps even gladly; for had they not just witnessed the behavior of Doctor Richard Geddes?) accepting the interlopers in the house of his fathers!  Nicholas Jelnik selecting the site for the statue Richard had brought home in pride, and Freeman had buried in sorrow!  Miss Hopkins’s stare dismissed me, shifted to Alicia, and discovered the cause of this shameless surrender of family pride.  Her lips tightened.  With politely cold hopes that we should like Hyndsville, and warmer hopes that we would join the missionary society, they left us.

“Wedge Number One:  The poor dear heathen, Sophy!” smiled Alicia.  “The P.D.H. can be a very present help in times of social trouble, can’t he?  I shall attend that missionary meeting, and take stock.  Incidentally (For goodness’ sake, don’t look so scandalized, Sophy Smith! this is a fight for our lives, so to speak!) incidentally, I shan’t do the P.D.H. any harm.  He won’t be a bit worse than he was before, which is promising.”  She put two fingers before her laughing eyes, squinted through them, and drawled: