Nancy's eyes, sweeping over the dirty, crowded room, came back to
the hard face before her, she sickened at the thought of little Nonie,
with her "dreams," growing in this environment. Then, as Liz' scowl
gave place to a sullen indifference, Nancy realized that the most
marked thing about the woman was a resigned hopelessness.

Nancy, choosing her words carefully, introduced herself. As Liz'
unfriendliness discouraged any advances, Nancy plunged straight to the
point. She had taken a fancy to the children, she explained--would
Miss Hopworth permit Nonie and sometimes Davy, to come often to Happy
House? She, Nancy, found it a little lonesome at Happy House and she
would enjoy their company.

Liz dropped a pan with a bang. "I'll tell you just's I tell her--there
ain't goin' to be any more traipsing 'way from her work all the time
like with the schoolmar'm either to Happy House nor nowhere. All them
notions is settin' the girl loony goin' on with her lies and things
'bout things bein' differunt. She'll stay _right_ to home!"

And to prevent further argument Liz' head bent meaningly toward the
door.

But at that moment a shadow crossed it. Mrs. Sniggs, very gingerly,
thrust a head inside. Under her arm she carried a kettle. Once in a
while old Dan'l mended the village kettles.

"How d'do," snapped Liz.

But Mrs. Sniggs, with an uplift of her nose that said plainly: "I don't
even _see_ you," put her kettle near the door without a word and turned
to depart. At which Liz, in a loud tone, exclaimed: "Most _certainly_,
Miss Leavitt, we're _delighted_! Our Nonie can visit you up to Happy
House real often!"

Liz knew and Nancy knew, by the tell-tale shadow that lingered across
the threshold that Mrs. Sniggs had heard; Nancy blessed the good
fortune that had brought the woman there at that moment!

Walking homeward, her mind full of plans of all she wanted to do for
Nonie and Davy, Nancy with a shudder recalled the Hopworth home--and
Liz. Something in the tired eyes haunted her. "Maybe," she thought
with a pang of pity, "maybe she's as--starved--as Nonie!"

CHAPTER XIII

THE FOURTH OF JULY

B'lindy had said, truly, that "she guessed if Webb got up the Fourth of
July doin's they'd be doin's no one'd forget!"

Webb's "doin's" took the form of a parade--a parade in which the very
young and the very old should take part. At its head Webb himself
would march, with the two recently returned soldiers,