arless tongue made her good opinion worth
gaining.

At present she had centred her lively interest upon Alma, and Nancy
could not resist the temptation of listening to her remarks, especially
since the old lady was obviously perfectly willing to let anyone and
everyone hear her who might have reason to listen.

"That is little Alma Prescott," Mrs. Porterbridge was replying. "She
is charmingly pretty, isn't she?"

"The image of her mother. Tell me something about them. It's
ridiculous, isn't it, how we can live for years within a stone's throw
of our neighbors without ever knowing whether their Sunday clothes are
made of silk or calico. George Prescott used to be my particular
favorite, when he was a youngster. I remember when he married that
empty-pated little beauty--I gave him tons of my choicest advice--was
absolutely prodigal of my finest gems of wisdom; but when I saw
her--well, I knew very well that there would be ups and downs--she
should have married an Indian nabob--but, thought I, I might as well
shout to the north wind to be placid as to tell him to give her up and
find himself some sensible, excellent creature, who could mend his
socks and turn his old suits for him. He would rather have lived on
burnt potatoes and bacon, with that charming little spendthrift, than
have enjoyed all the blessings of good housekeeping at the hands of the
most estimable creature we could have found for him. I do like that
spirit in a young man, however much my excellent common sense may
disapprove of it.

"I saw nothing of George after his marriage. I was too fond of him to
stand around offering advice, when he couldn't possibly make any use of
it. I should probably have lost my temper just as Tom Prescott
did--and I cannot endure to be in such a ridiculous position. I had a
notion that Lallie Prescott didn't live here any more."

"I believe that the family suffers rather keen financial difficulties,"
said Mrs. Porterbridge. "The girls go out very little--are quite
isolated, in fact."

"You mean that they are hard up--don't use those genteel euphemisms, my
dear,--I can't understand 'em.

"I'm sorry. It was inevitable, of course, but I'm one of the few
beings that sincerely regret seeing other people reaping what they've
sown. I've always avoided my own deserts so successfully." Her big,
jolly laugh rang out at this. "There are two girls, I remember. Both
pretty?"

"Yes, indeed," replied Mrs. Porterbri