s the public mind," he said. He
himself had recently diverted the public mind by the gift of a bell
to the Norembega Theological (colored) Institute, and the paragraph
announcing the fact conveyed the impression that while Uncle Jerry was
a canny old customer, his heart was on the right side. "There are worse
men than Uncle Jerry who are not worth a cent," was one of the humorous
paragraphs tacked on to the item.

Margaret was not alone in finding the social atmosphere of Lenox as
congenial as its natural beauties. Mrs. Laflamme declared that it was
the perfection of existence for a couple of months, one in early summer
and another in the golden autumn with its pathetic note of the falling
curtain dropping upon the dream of youth. Mrs. Laflamme was not a
sentimental person, but she was capable of drifting for a moment into
a poetic mood--a great charm in a woman of her vivacity and air of the
world. Margaret remembered her very distinctly, although she had only
exchanged a word with her at the memorable dinner in New York when
Henderson had revealed her feelings to herself. Mrs. Laflamme had the
immense advantage--it seemed so to her after five years of widowhood
of being a widow on the sunny side of thirty-five. If she had lost
some illusions she had gained a great deal of knowledge, and she had no
feverish anxiety about what life would bring her. Although she would not
put it in this way to herself, she could look about her deliberately,
enjoying the prospect, and please herself. Her position had two
advantages--experience and opportunity. A young woman unmarried, she
said, always has the uneasy sense of the possibility--well, it is
impossible to escape slang, and she said it with the merriest laugh--the
possibility of being left. A day or two after Margaret's arrival she had
driven around to call in her dog-cart, looking as fresh as a daisy
in her sunhat. She held the reins, but her seat was shared by Mr. Fox
McNaughton, the most useful man in the village, indispensable indeed; a
bachelor, with no intentions, no occupation, no ambition (except to lead
the german), who could mix a salad, brew a punch, organize a picnic, and
chaperon anything in petticoats with entire propriety, without regard
to age. And he had a position of social authority. This eminence Mr.
Fox McNaughton had attained by always doing the correct thing. The
obligation of society to such men is never enough acknowledged. While
they are trusted and us