“I don’t believe any of us know her very well,” she said, after a pause.  “You know what a gossip Lois Daggett is?  Well, I met her and Mrs. Fulsom and Mrs. Whittle coming out of the Daggetts’ house.  They’d been talking it over; when they saw me they stopped me to ask if I’d been to see Miss Orr, and when I said no, not yet, but I was going, Lois Daggett said, ’Well, I do hope she won’t be quite so close-mouthed with you girls.  When I asked her, real sympathizing, who she was wearing black for, she said she had lost a dear friend and never even told who it was!’”

Jim Dodge threw back his head and burst into a laugh.

“Served her right,” he said.

“You mean Lois?”

“You didn’t suppose I meant Miss Orr; did you?”

Jim’s voice held a disdainful note which brought the hot color to Ellen’s cheeks.

“I’m not so stupid as you seem to think, Jim Dodge,” she said, with spirit.

“I never thought you were stupid, Ellen,” he returned quickly.  “Don’t make a mistake and be so now.”

Ellen gazed at him in hurt silence.  She guessed at his meaning and it humiliated her girlish pride.

It was Fanny who said somewhat impatiently:  “I’m sure I can’t think what you mean, Jim.”

“Well, in my humble opinion, it would be downright stupid for you two girls to fool yourselves into disliking Lydia Orr.  She’d like to be friends with everybody; why not give her a chance?”

Again Ellen did not reply; and again it was Fanny who spoke the words that rose to her friend’s lips unuttered: 

“I can’t see how you should know so much about Miss Orr, Jim.”

“I don’t myself,” he returned good-humoredly.  “But sometimes a man can see through a woman better—­or at least more fair-mindedly than another woman.  You see,” he added, “there’s no sex jealousy in the way.”

Both girls cried out in protest against this.

It wasn’t so, they declared.  He ought to be ashamed of himself!  As for being jealous of any one—­Fanny haughtily disclaimed the suggestion, with a bitterness which astonished her friend.

It was something of a relief to all three when the brilliantly illuminated house and grounds belonging to Mrs. Solomon Black came in view.  Japanese lanterns in lavish abundance had been strung from tree to tree and outlined the piazza and the walk leading to the house.

“Doesn’t it look lovely!” cried Ellen, scattering her vexation to the winds.  “I never saw anything so pretty!”

Inside the house further surprises awaited them; the music of harp and violins stole pleasantly through the flower-scented rooms, which were softly lighted with shaded lamps the like of which Brookville had never seen before.

Mrs. Solomon Black, arrayed in a crisp blue taffeta, came bustling to meet them.  But not before Fanny’s swift gaze had penetrated the assembled guests.  Yes! there was Wesley Elliot’s tall figure.  He was talking to Mrs. Henry Daggett at the far end of the double parlors.