and
long-lashed. They were pretty yet, but the crow's feet about them were
plainly visible. There were brackets around her mouth too, and her
cheeks were hollow. Anne suddenly realized, as she had never realized
before, that she had grown old--that her youth was left far behind.
She was an old maid, and Harriet Warren was young, and pretty. Anne's
long, thin lips suddenly quivered.

"I declare, I'm a worse fool than Jerome," she said angrily.

When Saturday night came Jerome did not. The corner of the big,
old-fashioned porch where he usually sat looked bare and lonely. Anne
was short with Octavia and boxed the cat's ears and raged at herself.
What did she care if Jerome Irving never came again? She could have
married him years ago if she had wanted to--everybody knew that!

At sunset she saw a buggy drive past her gate. Even at that distance
she recognized Harriet Warren's handsome, high-coloured profile. It
was Jerome's new buggy and Jerome was driving. The wheel spokes
flashed in the sunlight as they crept up the hill. Perhaps they
dazzled Anne's eyes a little; at least, for that or some other reason
she dabbed her hand viciously over them as she turned sharply about
and went upstairs. Octavia was practising her music lesson in the
parlour below and singing in a sweet shrill voice. The hired men were
laughing and talking in the yard. Anne slammed down her window and
banged her door and then lay down on her bed; she said her head ached.

The Deep Meadows people were amused and made joking remarks to Anne,
which she had to take amiably because she had no excuse for resenting
them. In reality they stung her pride unendurably. When Jerome had
gone she realized that she had no other intimate friend and that she
was a very lonely woman whom nobody cared about. One night--it was
three weeks afterward--she met Jerome and Harriet squarely. She was
walking to church with Octavia, and they were driving in the opposite
direction. Jerome had his new buggy and crimson lap robe. His horse's
coat shone like satin and had rosettes of crimson on his bridle.
Jerome was dressed extremely well and looked quite young, with his
round, ruddy, clean-shaven face and clear blue eyes.

Harriet was sitting primly and consciously by his side; she was a very
handsome girl with bold eyes and was somewhat overdressed. She wore a
big flowery hat and a white lace veil and looked at Anne with a
supercilious smile.

Anne felt dowdy and old; she w