ined up her hair into the latest perkiness
of twist, and crimped it, and curled her feathers, and tied her
ribbons not as much in hope as in a stern determination to do her
part towards the furbishing of her faded star of attraction. "Jim
don't act as if he thought so much of me, an' I dun'no' as I
wonder," she told her sister.

Fanny looked at her critically. "You mean you ain't so good-lookin'
as you used to be?" said she.

Eva nodded.

"Well, if that is all men care for us," said Fanny.

"It ain't," said Eva, "only it's the key to it. It's like losin' the
key and not bein' able to get in the door in consequence."

"It wa'n't my husband's key," said Fanny, with a glance at her own
face, faded as to feature and bloom, but intensified as to love and
daily duty, like that of a dog sharpened to one faithfulness of
existence.

"Andrew ain't Jim," said Eva, shortly.

"I know he ain't," Fanny assented, with emphasis.

"But I wouldn't swap off my husband for a dozen of yours," said Eva.

"Well, I wouldn't swap off mine for a thousand of yours," returned
Fanny, sharply; and there might have been one of the old-time
tussles between the sisters had not Eva's violent, half-bitter sense
of humor averted it. She broke into a hard laugh.

"Good Lord," she said, "I dun'no' as I should want a thousand like
Jim. Seems to me it would be considerable care."

Fanny began to speak, but checked herself. She had heard rumors
regarding Jim Tenny of late and had flown fiercely with denial at
the woman who told her, and had not repeated them to her sister.

She was thinking how she had heard that Jim had been seen driving in
Wenham with Aggie Morse several times lately. Aggie Morse had been
Aggie Bemis, Jim's old sweetheart. She had married a well-to-do
merchant in Wenham, who died six months before and left her with
considerable property. It was her own smart little turn-out in which
she had been seen with Jim.

Eva was working in the shop, and Jim had been out of employment for
nearly a year, and living on his wife. There was a demand for girls
and not for men just then, so Jim loafed. His old mother cared for
the house as well as she was able, and Eva did the rest nights and
mornings. At first Jim had tried to help about the house-work, but
Eva had interfered.

"It ain't a man's work," said she. "Your mother can leave the hard
part of it till I get home." Eva used to put the money she earned
surreptitiously into her husba