nd yet wistfully, too. Nellie had
called for her many times, just to walk home together, but never because
aunt Ellen might be tired. The infection of age was in the air, and
Nellie Lake had caught it.

"Come in, Nellie," she said. "No, I don't feel specially tired, but
maybe I'll go along in a minute."

"Want to come to an old folks' party?" called Isabel, who was reading
all these thoughts as swiftly as if they were signals to herself alone.
"Want to dress up, an' flour your hair, an' put on spe'tacles, an' come
an' play with us old folks?"

The girl's face creased up delightfully.

"A fancy dress!" she said. "What can I be?"

"You'll be an old lady," said Isabel, "or you won't come."

"Is it for the fund?" asked Nellie.

"Well, yes, I suppose it's for the fund, some," Isabel conceded. "But
take it by an' large, it's for fun."

* * * * *

The night of the masquerade was soft and still, lighted by the harvest
moon. Everywhere the fragrance of grapes enriched the air, and the dusty
bitterness of things ripening. The little town hall was gay with lights,
a curious blending of the west and east; for the boarders had left
Japanese lanterns behind them, and their grotesque prettiness contrasted
strangely with bowery goldenrod and asters and the red of maple leaves.
Colonel Hadley, standing a moment at the doorway in his evening walk,
this first night of his stay, when he had come with his nephew to look
out some precious old books in the attic, and perhaps the more actually
to draw Clyde away again after the errand was done, thought he had never
seen such abandonment to a wild pleasure, even in his early days at
Marshmead. For it was pleasure, though it seemed to be the festival of
the old. Men and women bent with years and yet straightening themselves
when their muscles ached, were promenading the hall, not sedately,
according to the wont of Marshmead social gatherings, to fulfill a
terrifying rite, but gayly, as if only by premeditation did they
withstand the beckoning of the dance.

At the end of the hall, in a bower of light and greenery, sat a row of
others who were apparently set apart for some honor or special service.
From time to time the ranks broke, and one group after another stayed to
talk with them, and always with the air of giving pleasure by their
deference and heartening. Suddenly the colonel's eyes smarted with the
sudden tears of a recognition which seemed to to