dsome dark eyes. She set the hat over her black
hair at exactly the right angle, skewering it securely in place with
two silver pins, also severely simple in their style and quite unlike
the glittering rhinestone variety offered for sale in Henry Daggett's
general store.

"I'm going out for a while, mother," she said, as she passed the room
where Mrs. Dix was placidly sewing carpet rags out of materials
prodigiously increased of late, since both women had been able to
afford several new dresses.

"Going to Fanny's?" inquired Mrs. Dix.... "Seems to me you're
starting out pretty early, dear, in all this heat. If you'll wait
till sundown, I'll go with you. I haven't seen their parlor since
they got the new curtains up."

"I'm not going to Fanny's, right off," said Ellen evasively. "Maybe
I'll stop on the way back, though. 'Tisn't very hot; it's clouded up
some."

"Better taken an umbrella," her mother sent after her. "We might get
a thunder storm along towards four o'clock. My shoulder's been
paining me all the morning."

But Ellen had already passed out of hearing, her fresh skirts held
well away from the dusty wayside weeds.

She was going, with intentions undefined, to see Lydia Orr. Perhaps
(she was thinking) she might see Jim Dodge. Anyway, she wanted to go
to Bolton House. She would find out for herself wherein lay the
curious fascination of which Fanny had spoken. She was surprised at
Fanny for so easily giving in about the furniture. Secretly, she
considered herself to be possibly a bit shrewder than Fanny. In
reality she was not as easily influenced, and slower at forming
conclusions. She possessed a mind of more scope.

Ellen walked along, setting her pointed feet down very carefully so
as not to raise the dust and soil her nice skirts. She was a dainty
creature. When she reached the hedge which marked the beginning of
the Bolton estate, she started, not violently, that was not her way,
but anybody is more startled at the sudden glimpse of a figure at
complete rest, almost rigidity, than of a figure in motion. Had the
old man whom Ellen saw been walking along toward her, she would not
have started at all. She might have glanced at him with passing
curiosity, since he was a stranger in Brookville, then that would
have been the end of it. But this old man, standing as firmly fixed
as a statue against the hedge, startled the girl. He was rather a
handsome old man, but there was something peculiar about him