“Fanny!” cried Ellen protestingly.  “She certainly is a soft-soap artist.  My mother says she is so refined; and Mrs. Daggett is always chanting her praises.”

“Think of all she’s done for the village,” urged Fanny.  “I want to be just, even if—­”

“Well, I don’t!” cried Ellen.  “I just enjoy being real spiteful sometimes—­especially when another girl gobbles all the men in sight; and I know I’m prettier than she is.  It’s just because she’s new and—­and stylish and rich.  What made you give in about your furniture, Fan?”

“Because I—­”

Fanny stopped short, puckering her forehead.

“I don’t know whether I can explain it, Ellen; but I notice it every time I am with her.  There’s something—­”

“Good gracious, Fan!  She must have hypnotized you.”

“Be quiet, Ellen, I’m trying to think just how it happened.  She didn’t say so very much—­just sat down and watched me, while I sewed rings on the curtains.  But the first thing I knew, I piped up and said:  ‘Do you really want that old furniture of mine so much?’ And she said—­ Well, no matter what she said; it was more the way she looked.  I guess I’d have given her the eyes out of my head, or any old thing.”

“That’s just what I told you,” interrupted Ellen.  “There are people like that.  Don’t you remember that horrid old what’s-his-name in ’Trilby’?”

“Don’t be silly, Ellen,” said Fanny rebukingly.  “Well, I took her up to my room and showed her my bed and bureau and washstand.  There were some chairs, too; mother got them all for my room at that old auction we’ve heard so much about; I was just a baby then.  I told her about it.  She sat down in my rocking-chair by the window and just looked at the things, without saying a word, at first.  After a while, she said:  ’Your mother used to come in and tuck the blankets around you nice and warm in the night; didn’t she?’”

“‘Why, I suppose she did,’ I told her.  ’Mother’s room is right next to mine.’ ...  Ellen, there was a look in her eyes—­I can’t tell you about it—­you wouldn’t understand.  And, anyway, I didn’t care a bit about the furniture.  ‘You can have it,’ I said.  ’I don’t want it, and I don’t see why you do; it isn’t pretty any more.’  I thought she was going to cry, for a minute.  Then such a soft gladness came over her face.  She came up to me and took both my hands in hers; but all she said was ‘Thank you.’”

“And did she pay you a whole lot for it?” inquired Ellen sordidly.

“I didn’t think anything about that part of it,” said Fanny.  “Jim carried it all over the next day, with a lot of old stuff mother had.  Jim says she’s had a man from Grenoble working in the barn for weeks and weeks, putting everything in order.  My old set was painted over, with all the little garlands and blue ribbons, like new.”

“But how much—­” persisted Ellen.  “She must have paid you a lot for it.”

“I didn’t ask mother,” said Fanny.  “I didn’t want to know.  I’ve got a new set; it’s real pretty.  You must come over and see my room, now it’s all finished.”