gate, and by the time she
reached it, her swinging step had given to her cheek a color that even the
apple orchard could not rival.

A quick tap on the knocker brought Mary Howe to the door. She was tall,
angular, and short-sighted, and she stood regarding her visitor
inquisitively, her forehead lined by a network of wrinkles.

"Could you let me have a dozen eggs?" asked Lucy.

Mary looked at the girl in waiting silence.

"I am Miss Webster's niece," explained Lucy, with an appealing smile. "We
live next door, you know. Aunt Ellen didn't seem to have any eggs to
spare, so----" she stopped, arrested by Mary's expression.

"Maybe you don't sell eggs," she ventured.

"Yes, we do," Mary contrived to articulate, "but I don't know--I'm
afraid----" She broke off helplessly in the midst of the disjointed
sentence and, raising her voice, called: "Eliza, is Jane there?"

"She's upstairs. I'll fetch her down," responded Eliza, coming to the
door. "What is it?"

"It's Miss Webster's niece askin' for eggs."

"Miss Webster's niece! Ellen Webster's?"

The explanation had in it an intonation of terror.

"Yes."

"My land, Mary! What shall we do? Martin will never----" the awed whisper
ceased. "I'll call Jane," broke off Eliza hurriedly.

Lucy heard the messenger speed across the floor and run up the stairs.

"I'm afraid I'm making you a great deal of trouble," she remarked
apologetically.

"No."

"Perhaps you haven't any eggs to spare."

Mary did not reply to the words; instead she continued to look with
bewilderment at the girl on the doorstep.

"Did Miss Webster send you?" she at last inquired.

Lucy laughed.

"No, indeed," she answered. "She didn't even know I was coming. You see, I
only arrived from Arizona last night. I've come to live with my aunt. We
didn't seem to agree very well about breakfast this morning so I----"

"Oh!"

The explanation was pregnant with understanding.

"I just thought I'd feel more independent if I----"

A swish of skirts cut short the sentence, and in another moment all three
of the Howe sisters were framed in the doorway.

Although a certain family resemblance was characteristic of them, they
looked little alike. Eliza, it was true, was less angular than Mary and
lacked her firmness of mouth and chin; but nevertheless the Howe stamp was
upon her black hair, heavy, bushy brows, and noble cast of forehead. It
was Jane's face, touched by a humor the others could not boast, t