r and came right along with Joe." And Mrs. Daggett, whose
placid face had lighted with pleasure at sight of Fanny and Ellen,
proclaimed that when the day came for _her_ to stay at home from a
young folks' social she hoped they'd bury her, right off.

So the instant--psychological or otherwise--passed. But Fanny Dodge's
heavy heart was beating hopefully once more.

"If I could only see him alone," she was thinking. "He would explain
everything."

Her thoughts flew onward to the moment when she would come down
stairs once more, cloaked for departure. Perhaps Wesley--she ventured
to call him Wesley in her joyously confused thoughts--perhaps Wesley
would walk home with her as on other occasions not long past. Jim,
she reflected, could go with Ellen.

Then all at once she came upon Lydia Orr, in her simple white dress,
made with an elegant simplicity which convicted every girl in the
room of dowdiness. She was talking with Judge Fulsom, who was slowly
consuming a huge saucer of ice-cream, with every appearance of
enjoyment.

"As I understand it, my dear young lady, you wish to employ
Brookville talent exclusively in repairing your house," Fanny heard
him saying, between smacking mouthfuls.

And Lydia Orr replied, "Yes, if you please, I do want everything to
be done here. There are people who can, aren't there?"

When she saw that Fanny had paused and was gazing at her doubtfully,
her hand went out with a smile, wistful and timid and sincere, all at
once. There was something so appealing in the girl's upturned face,
an honesty of purpose so crystal-clear in her lovely eyes, that
Fanny, still confused and uncertain whether to be happy or not, was
irresistibly drawn to her. She thought for a fleeting instant she
would like to take Lydia Orr away to some dim secluded spot and there
pour out her heart. The next minute she was ready to laugh at herself
for entertaining so absurd an idea. She glanced down at Lydia's
ungloved hands, which Ellen Dix had just described, and reflected
soberly that Wesley Elliot sat at table with those dainty pink-tipped
fingers three times each day. She had not answered Ellen's foolish
little questions; but now she felt sure that any man, possessed of
his normal faculties, could hardly fail to become aware of Lydia
Orr's delicate beauty.

Fanny compelled herself to gaze with unprejudiced eyes at the fair
transparent skin, with the warm color coming and going beneath
it, at the masses of blo