“Yes, I know that,” replied the old lady.  “I heard the report, and, thinkin’ it was only natural that we should be a leetle curious about a woman who was a goin’ to give tone to our society, I made bold to ask her about it.  She put her handkercher to her eyes, and cried the least bit, when she spoke of her former pardner.  ‘Dear soul,’ she said, ’he’s in Heaven, but the Lord’s got work for me to do in this world yet, Sister Wynn.’  She’s a leetle too dressy, and I’m most afraid will set the young folks here an example of extravagance; but I believe she means well, and expects to do her whole duty.”

“Well, I shall wait for her works to prove her disposition,” said Mrs. Swan.  “I believe that ‘actions speak louder than words.’  I’ll admit that Arguseye talks well—­she’s a gift that way; but I ain’t drawn to her as I was to the dear motherly saint that has left us.”

“No, you can’t expect another like her.  I don’t know what the old Elder will do, now; but it won’t be long before he’ll follow her, in my opinion,” was the rejoinder.

“She’s gone to that happy land where the wicked can never enter,” spoke up Betsey Pryor, who had been industriously stitching away during this dialogue.

“It’s a good thing to realize that, Betsey,” said Mrs. Wynn, slyly.  “I’m glad you’ve found out the danger of evil communications.”

“Don’t say another word,” said the spinster, showing signs of dissolving in tears.  “I’ve learnt a lesson this past summer I shall never forget.”

“I don’t wonder that you feel so,” rejoined Mrs. Wynn, smiling grimly.  “I never look at you now, and remember the Secretary of the ‘Ladies’ Charitable Society,’ without feeling thankful that you have riz like that—­what do you call it?—­from its ashes, and are once more an orderly and respectable member of society.”

“Have you observed,” asked the good-natured hostess, striving, out of pity for the disconcerted Betsey, to turn the conversation into another channel, “anything of these new people at the Burton place?”

“A leetle, but not much,” said Mrs. Wynn.  “I was so upset by their sellin’ out so sudden like, when I thought they was as much fixtures here as the place itself, that I ain’t had much time to think about these new folks.”

“As for me,” continued Mrs. Swan, “I like them already.  Being such a near neighbor, I have a chance to see a good deal of them.  Their names are Garnet, and that pretty younger lady is the wife of their only son.”

“It took some money, I should imagine,” pursued Mrs. Wynn.  “Of course these folks must be rich.”

“Yes, they paid twelve thousand, cash down, for their present home, and the old lady told me they had other property besides.”

“Do tell!” and “Gracious sakes!” ejaculated both her listeners at once.  “I must call right away.”  “It ain’t neighborly to neglect strangers.”

“I’ve another item for you,” added the communicative Mrs. Swan.  “They’ve bought that cottage down near the Widow Hardyng’s, for the young couple to commence housekeeping for themselves.”