ossom won't."

Mrs. Blewett shrugged her sharp shoulders.

"Maybe not. It's to be hoped not, for both your sakes, I'm sure. But I'd
be worried if 'twas me. Sary's been living among fine folks, and having
a gay, exciting time, and it stands to reason she'll think White Sands
fearful lonesome and dull. Look at Lauretta Bradley. She was up in
Boston for just a month last winter and she's never been able to endure
White Sands since."

"Lauretta Bradley and Sara Shaw are two different people," said Sara's
father, trying to smile.

"And your house, too," pursued Mrs. Blewett ruthlessly. "It's such a
queer, little, old place. What'll she think of it after her aunt's?
I've heard tell Mrs. Adair lives in a perfect palace. I'll just warn you
kindly that Sary'll probably look down on you, and you might as well be
prepared for it. Of course, I suppose she kind of thinks she has to come
back, seeing she promised you so solemn she would. But I'm certain she
doesn't want to, and I don't blame her either."

Even Mrs. Blewett had to stop for breath, and Old Man Shaw found his
opportunity. He had listened, dazed and shrinking, as if she were
dealing him physical blows, but now a swift change swept over him. His
blue eyes flashed ominously, straight into Mrs. Blewett's straggling,
ferrety gray orbs.

"If you're said your say, Martha Blewett, you can go," he said
passionately. "I'm not going to listen to another such word. Take
yourself out of my sight, and your malicious tongue out of my hearing!"

Mrs. Blewett went, too dumfounded by such an unheard-of outburst in mild
Old Man Shaw to say a word of defence or attack. When she had gone Old
Man Shaw, the fire all faded from his eyes, sank back on his bench.
His delight was dead; his heart was full of pain and bitterness. Martha
Blewett was a warped and ill-natured woman, but he feared there was
altogether too much truth in what she said. Why had he never thought of
it before? Of course White Sands would seem dull and lonely to Blossom;
of course the little gray house where she was born would seem a poor
abode after the splendours of her aunt's home. Old Man Shaw walked
through his garden and looked at everything with new eyes. How poor and
simple everything was! How sagging and weather-beaten the old house! He
went in, and up-stairs to Sara's room. It was neat and clean, just as
she had left it three years ago. But it was small and dark; the ceiling
was discoloured, the furniture o