everything that Tom Sparrell told her in his ordinary tone of voice.  Briefly, it was very possible that Delaware—­the youngest Miss Piper—­did not like us.  Yet it was fondly believed by us that the other sisters failed to show that indifference to our existence shown by Miss Delaware, although the heartburnings, misunderstandings, jealousies, hopes and fears, and finally the chivalrous resignation with which we at last accepted the long foregone conclusion that they were not for us, and far beyond our reach, is not a part of this veracious chronicle.  Enough that none of the flirtations of her elder sisters affected or were shared by the youngest Miss Piper.  She moved in this heart-breaking atmosphere with sublime indifference, treating her sisters’ affairs with what we considered rank simplicity or appalling frankness.  Their few admirers who were weak enough to attempt to gain her mediation or confidence had reason to regret it.

“It’s no kind o’ use givin’ me goodies,” she said to a helpless suitor of Louisiana Piper’s who had offered to bring her some sweets, “for I ain’t got no influence with Lu, and if I don’t give ’em up to her when she hears of it, she’ll nag me and hate you like pizen.  Unless,” she added thoughtfully, “it was wintergreen lozenges; Lu can’t stand them, or anybody who eats them within a mile.”  It is needless to add that the miserable man, thus put upon his gallantry, was obliged in honor to provide Del with the wintergreen lozenges that kept him in disfavor and at a distance.  Unfortunately, too, any predilection or pity for any particular suitor of her sister’s was attended by even more disastrous consequences.  It was reported that while acting as “gooseberry”—­a role usually assigned to her—­between Virginia Piper and an exceptionally timid young surveyor, during a ramble she conceived a rare sentiment of humanity towards the unhappy man.  After once or twice lingering behind in the ostentatious picking of a wayside flower, or “running on ahead” to look at a mountain view, without any apparent effect on the shy and speechless youth, she decoyed him aside while her elder sister rambled indifferently and somewhat scornfully on.  The youngest Miss Piper leaped upon the rail of a fence, and with the stalk of a thimbleberry in her mouth swung her small feet to and fro and surveyed him dispassionately.

“Ye don’t seem to be ketchin’ on?” she said tentatively.

The young man smiled feebly and interrogatively.

“Don’t seem to be either follering suit nor trumpin’,” continued Del bluntly.

“I suppose so—­that is, I fear that Miss Virginia”—­he stammered.

“Speak up!  I’m a little deaf.  Say it again!” said Del, screwing up her eyes and eyebrows.

The young man was obliged to admit in stentorian tones that his progress had been scarcely satisfactory.