who is in haste.

"We was just speakin' about the young woman that's stopping at your
house," murmured Mr. Daggett. "Let me see; I disremember which kind
of bakin'-powder you use, Mis' Black."

"The Golden Rule brand, if you please, Mr. Daggett."

"H'm; let me see if I've got one of them Golden Rules left," mused
Mr. Daggett.... "I told the boys I guessed she was some relation of
th' Grenoble Orrs, an' mebbe--"

"Well; she ain't," denied Mrs. Black crisply.

"M-m-m?" interrogated Mr. Daggett, intent upon a careful search among
the various canned products on his shelf. "How'd she happen to come
to Brookville?"

Mrs. Black tossed her head.

"Of course it ain't for me to say," she returned, with a dignity
which made her appear taller than she really was. "But folks has
heard of the table I set, 'way to Boston."

"You don't say!" exclaimed Mr. Daggett. "So she come from Boston, did
she? I thought she seemed kind of--"

"I don't know as there's any secret about where she _come_ from,"
returned Mrs. Black aggressively. "I never s'posed there was. Folks
ain't had time to git acquainted with her yit."

"That's so," agreed Mr. Daggett, as if the idea was a new and
valuable one. "Yes, ma'am; you're right! we ain't none of us had time
to git acquainted."

He beamed cordially upon Mrs. Black over the tops of his spectacles.
"Looks like we're going to git a chance to know her," he went on. "It
seems the young woman has made up her mind to settle amongst us. Yes,
ma'am; we've been hearing she's on the point of buying property and
settling right down here in Brookville."

An excited buzz of comment in the front of the store broke in upon
this confidential conversation. Mrs. Black appeared to become aware
for the first time of the score of masculine eyes fixed upon her.

"Ain't you got any of the Golden Rule?" she demanded sharply. "That
looks like it to me--over in behind them cans of tomatoes. It's got a
blue label."

"Why, yes; here 'tis, sure enough," admitted Mr. Daggett. "I guess I
must be losing my eyesight.... It's going to be quite a chore to fix
up the old Bolton house," he added, as he inserted the blue labeled
can of reputation in a red and yellow striped paper bag.

"That ain't decided," snapped Mrs. Black. "She could do better than
to buy that tumble-down old shack."

"So she could; so she could," soothed the postmaster. "But it's going
to be a good thing for the creditors, if she can swing it. Let m