There was some disapproval, of course, and . . . which the Improvers felt much more keenly . . . a good deal of ridicule.  Mr. Elisha Wright was reported to have said that a more appropriate name for the organization would be Courting Club.  Mrs. Hiram Sloane declared she had heard the Improvers meant to plough up all the roadsides and set them out with geraniums.  Mr. Levi Boulter warned his neighbors that the Improvers would insist that everybody pull down his house and rebuild it after plans approved by the society.  Mr. James Spencer sent them word that he wished they would kindly shovel down the church hill.  Eben Wright told Anne that he wished the Improvers could induce old Josiah Sloane to keep his whiskers trimmed.  Mr. Lawrence Bell said he would whitewash his barns if nothing else would please them but he would not hang lace curtains in the cowstable windows.  Mr. Major Spencer asked Clifton Sloane, an Improver who drove the milk to the Carmody cheese factory, if it was true that everybody would have to have his milk-stand hand-painted next summer and keep an embroidered centerpiece on it.

In spite of . . . or perhaps, human nature being what it is, because of . . . this, the Society went gamely to work at the only improvement they could hope to bring about that fall.  At the second meeting, in the Barry parlor, Oliver Sloane moved that they tart a subscription to re-shingle and paint the hall; Julia Bell seconded it, with an uneasy feeling that she was doing something not exactly ladylike.  Gilbert put the motion, it was carried unanimously, and Anne gravely recorded it in her minutes.  The next thing was to appoint a committee, and Gertie Pye, determined not to let Julia Bell carry off all the laurels, boldly moved that Miss Jane Andrews be chairman of said committee.  This motion being also duly seconded and carried, Jane returned the compliment by appointing Gertie on the committee, along with Gilbert, Anne, Diana, and Fred Wright.  The committee chose their routes in private conclave.  Anne and Diana were told off for the Newbridge road, Gilbert and Fred for the White Sands road, and Jane and Gertie for the Carmody road.

“Because,” explained Gilbert to Anne, as they walked home together through the Haunted Wood, “the Pyes all live along that road and they won’t give a cent unless one of themselves canvasses them.”

The next Saturday Anne and Diana started out.  They drove to the end of the road and canvassed homeward, calling first on the “Andrew girls.”

“If Catherine is alone we may get something,” said Diana, “but if Eliza is there we won’t.”

Eliza was there . . . very much so . . . and looked even grimmer than usual.  Miss Eliza was one of those people who give you the impression that life is indeed a vale of tears, and that a smile, never to speak of a laugh, is a waste of nervous energy truly reprehensible.  The Andrew girls had been “girls” for fifty odd years and seemed likely to remain girls to the end of their earthly pilgrimage.  Catherine, it was said, had not entirely given up hope, but Eliza, who was born a pessimist, had never had any.  They lived in a little brown house built in a sunny corner scooped out of Mark Andrew’s beech woods.  Eliza complained that it was terrible hot in summer, but Catherine was wont to say it was lovely and warm in winter.