ares, and that being actually inside the house, and
having sat down, he might have difficulty in extricating himself. So he
said, rather to turn the conversation from its personal character, than
from any sense of the fitness of his remarks.

"It's sad about Jane Evans, isn't it?"

"What's sad, Dick?" asked Anne, still standing, and resting both hands
on the table. "Excuse my not sitting down, I've got a bad turn of
rheumatism."

"That's bad," said Dick. "I once had a bit in my back, and it was as
much as I wanted."

"But what about Jane?" asked Anne. "I've scarcely seen her or her sister
since the old grandmother died. I seldom get so far away. The Ashley
road doesn't go near that side, and that's the one that sees me
oftenest."

"Well, it seems," replied Dick, finding it, after all, an awkward
subject to talk of to a woman, "she's gone to live with that
horse-breeder who's taken Burton's farm."

"But he's a married man," said Anne, not comprehending.

"Yes, I know," said Dick, with an embarrassed laugh, but Anne did not
hear. She had understood.

"She was a good, respectable girl," she said. "However can she have
forgotten herself like that? Where's her sister Annie?"

"They do say she's nearly as bad," replied Dick. "He's rather a taking
man--good-looking and hearty, and dresses better than the farmers, and
his wife went off with a trainer too."

"Her grandmother's only been dead two years, and she's been allowed to
go wrong like that," exclaimed Anne, with condemnation of herself in her
voice.

"Well, you know," expostulated Dick, "I don't know as it's anybody's
business. Everybody's got their own affairs to attend to."

"Oh yes! I know," said Anne. "It's never anybody's business to try to
prevent such things, but it'll be everybody's business to throw stones
at the girl very soon, if the man tires of her."

"I don't know about preventing," returned Dick; "she seemed pretty set
on him herself. I think myself it's a pity. Here's the eggs from Mary
Colton, Miss Hilton--three dozen," he added, as a diversion from the
conversation, which he found more embarrassing than the sermon he had
successfully avoided. With that he escaped from the chair with a jerk,
scuffled his feet once or twice on the floor, took his cap out of his
pocket, and ejaculated "Good-night."

"Good-night," replied Anne, still preoccupied. "Thank you for bringing
the eggs;" and she sat down with a slight groan.

"Why, it might be h