The other woman, who was fat, responded with a wheezy voice.  “It was queer about that niece of hers, who taught school in Westbridge, running away and dying so dreadful sudden, wasn’t it?” said she.

“Dreadful queer.  I guess her aunt and sister felt pretty bad about it, and I s’pose they do now; but it’s a year ago, and they’ve left off their mourning.”

“Of course,” said the other woman.  “They would leave it off on account of—­”

Maria did not hear what followed, for a thundering freight-train passed them and drowned the words.  After the train passed, the fat woman was saying, with her wheezy voice, “Mr. Lee’s mother’s death was dreadful sudden, wasn’t it?”

“Dreadful.”

“I wonder if he likes living in Amity as well as Westbridge?”

“I shouldn’t think he would, it isn’t as convenient to the academy.”

“Well, maybe he will go back to Westbridge after a while,” said the other woman, and again her breath fanned Maria’s neck.

She wondered what it meant.  A surmise came to her, then she dismissed it.  She was careful to keep her back turned to the women when the train pulled into Amity.  She had no baggage except a suit-case.  She got off the train, and disappeared in the familiar darkness.  All at once it seemed to her as if she had returned from the unreal to the real, from fairy-land to the actual world.  The year past seemed like a dream to her.  She could not believe it.  It was like that fact which is stranger than fiction, and therefore almost impossible even to write, much less to live.  Miss Rosa Blair, and her travellings in Europe, and her house in New York, seemed to her like an Arabian Night’s creation.  She walked along the street towards her aunt’s house, and realized her old self and her old perplexities.  When she drew near the house she saw a light in the parlor windows and also in Aunt Maria’s bedroom.  Aunt Maria had evidently gone to her room for the night.  Uncle Henry’s side of the house was entirely dark.

Maria stole softly into the yard, and paused in front of the parlor windows.  The shades were not drawn.  There sat Evelyn at work on some embroidery, while opposite to her sat Wollaston Lee, reading aloud.  In Evelyn’s lap, evidently hampering her with her work, was a beautiful yellow cat, which she paused now and then to stroke.  Maria felt her heart almost stand still.  There was something about it which renewed her vague surmise on the train.  It was only a very few minutes before Wollaston laid down the paper which he had been reading, and said something to Evelyn, who began to fold her work with the sweet docility which Maria remembered.  Wollaston rose and went over to Evelyn and kissed her as she stood up and let the yellow cat leap to the floor.  Evelyn looked to Maria more beautiful than she had ever seen her.  Maria stood farther back in the shadow.  Then she heard the front door opened, and the cat was gently put out.  Then she heard