turns quiet and gay, could not determine which he found more charming.
They talked over the weather together, and discussed the crops. Love
comes slowly in the north; there is time for every one to take a hand
in it. August passed without either having mentioned what was in their
hearts. Then Mrs. Ploughman made up her mind to put an end to it. One
day, when Noel was in Milford, she came to call on Mrs. Wicket. One
can imagine what she said to the young woman, who was already a mother
and a widow. The next day Mrs. Wicket appeared in her garden, pale and
composed. Those who had occasion to pass the little cottage at the
edge of the village, remarked that she no longer hummed under her
breath the gay tunes of her childhood.

"Her sin has found her out," said Miss Beal. "She's fallen by the way."

"You'd think," said Mrs. Crabbe, "she'd behave herself a speck, after
the life she's had."

Mrs. Grumble also was of the opinion that Mrs. Wicket had done wrong in
allowing herself to care for Noel Ploughman. For it seemed to the
gossips that Mrs. Wicket's life was, by rights, no longer her own to do
with. She was the earthly remains of a sinner; she had no right to
enjoy herself.

Two days later Noel Ploughman enlisted, "for the duration of the war."
His grandmother accepted the congratulations of Mrs. Crabbe and the
sympathy of Mrs. Barly with equal satisfaction. It seemed to her that
she had done her duty as she saw it. But when Noel was killed in
France a year later, she felt that Mrs. Wicket had killed him. "Now,"
she croaked to Mrs. Crabbe, "I hope she's satisfied."

She seemed to be; she took the news of Noel's death with curious calm.
It was almost as if she had been expecting it, looking for it . . . one
might have thought she had been waiting for it. . . . After a while,
she began to sing again. Her voice, as she crooned to Juliet, was
musical, but quavery. It provoked the good women of the village, who
began to think that perhaps, after all, she had "had her way."
"There's this much about it," said Miss Beal; "no one else will have
him now."

Mrs. Grumble agreed with her. She disliked Mrs. Wicket because Mr.
Jeminy liked her. He pitied the young woman who had had the misfortune
to marry a thief, and he forgave her for wanting to be happy, because
it did not seem to him that to have been the wife of a good-for-nothing
was much to settle down on. In his opinion, life owed her more than
she had