hair in smooth curves around her
ears, and pinned her black woollen dress with a gold-rimmed brooch
containing her dead sister's and her husband's hair.

Lois, before her own glass, twisted up her pretty hair carefully; she
pulled a few curly locks loose on her temples, thinking half
indignantly and shamefacedly how she should see that young man again.
Lois was bewildered and terrified, borne down by reflected guilt,
almost as if it were her own. She had a wild dread of this going out
to tea, meeting more strangers, and seeing her mother act out a
further lie; but she could not help being a young girl, and arranging
those little locks on her forehead for Francis Arms to see.

When she and her mother stepped out of the door, a strong wind came
in their faces.

"Wait a minute," said Mrs. Field. She went back into the house and
got Lois's sack. "Put this on," said she.

And Lois put it on.

The wind was from the east, and had the salt smell of the sea. All
the white-flowering bushes in the yards and the fruit trees bowed
toward the west. There was a storm of white petals. Lois, as she and
her mother walked against the wind, kept putting her hand to her
hair, to keep it in place.

Mrs. Maxwell's house was a large cottage with a steep Gothic roof
jutting over a piazza on each side. The house was an old one, and
originally very simple in its design; but there had been evidently at
some time a flood-tide of prosperity in the fortunes of its owner,
which had left marks in various improvements. There was a large
ornate bay-window in front, which contrasted oddly with the severe
white peak of wall above it; the piazzas had railings in elaborate
scroll-work; and the windows were set with four large panes of glass,
instead of the original twelve small ones. The front yard was
inclosed by a fine iron fence. But the highest mark was shown by a
little white marble statue in the midst of it. There was no other in
the village outside of the cemetery. Mrs. Jane Maxwell's house was
always described to inquiring strangers as the one with the statue in
front of it.

Lois, as they went up the walk, looked wonderingly at this marble
girl standing straight and white in the midst of a votive circle of
box. The walk, too, was bordered with box, and there was a strange
pungent odor from it.

Mrs. Field rang the door-bell, and she and Lois stood waiting. Nobody
came.

Mrs. Field rang again and again. "I'm goin' round to the other doo