language is becoming, especially at the
parsonage," said Jane.

Annie distinctly heard Tom Reed snort. "Hang it if I care whether it is
becoming or not," said he.

"You seem to forget that you are addressing ladies, sir," said Jane.

"Don't forget it for a blessed minute," returned Tom Reed. "Wish I
could. You make it too evident that you are--ladies, with every word you
speak, and all your beating about the bush. A man would blurt it out,
and then I would know where I am at. Hang it if I know now. You all say
that your sister is singular and that she distresses your father, and
you"--addressing Imogen--"say that she must be in that house. You are
the only one who does make a dab at speaking out; I will say that much
for you. Now, if she is in that house, what in thunder is the matter?"

"I really cannot stay here and listen to such profane language," said
Jane, and she flitted up the path to the house like an enraged white
moth. She had a fleecy white shawl over her head, and her pale outline
was triangular.

"If she calls that profane, I pity her," said Tom Reed. He had known the
girls since they were children, and had never liked Jane. He continued,
still addressing Imogen. "For Heaven's sake, if she is in that house,
what is the matter?" said he. "Doesn't the bell ring? Yes, it does ring,
though it is as cracked as the devil. I heard it. Has Annie gone deaf?
Is she sick? Is she asleep? It is only eight o'clock. I don't believe
she is asleep. Doesn't she want to see me? Is that the trouble? What
have I done? Is she angry with me?"

Eliza spoke, smoothly and sweetly. "Dear Annie is singular," said she.

"What the dickens do you mean by singular? I have known Annie ever since
she was that high. It never struck me that she was any more singular
than other girls, except she stood an awful lot of nagging without
making a kick. Here you all say she is singular, as if you meant she
was"--Tom hesitated a second--"crazy," said he. "Now, I know that Annie
is saner than any girl around here, and that simply does not go down.
What do you all mean by singular?"

"Dear Annie may not be singular, but her actions are sometimes
singular," said Susan. "We all feel badly about this."

"You mean her going over to her grandmother's house to live? I don't
know whether I think that is anything but horse-sense. I have eyes in my
head, and I have used them. Annie has worked like a dog here; I suppose
she needed a rest."

"We all