n she was aroused that a woman of Mrs. Jones's type could
not face with impunity. "Well, I don't pretend to know," said she,
with angry sullenness.

"You pretended to know just now. If folks don't know, it seems to me
the best thing they can do is to hold their tongues, anyhow."

"I am holding my tongue, ain't I? What has got into you, Sylvia
Whitman?"

"No, you didn't hold your tongue when you said that about there not
being so much smoke without some fire."

"Well, there always is fire when there's smoke, ain't there?"

"No, there ain't always, not on the earth. Sometimes there's smoke
that folks' wicked imaginations bring up out of the other place. I do
believe that."

"Why, Sylvia Whitman, how you do talk! You're almost swearing."

"Have it swearing if you want to," said Sylvia. "I know I'm glad that
Albion Bennet has gone back to Lucinda's. Everybody knows how mortal
scared he is of his own shadow, and if he's got grit enough to go
back there it's enough to about satisfy folks that there wasn't
anything in the story."

"Well, it's 'good riddance, bad rubbish,' as far as I'm concerned,"
said Mrs. Jim Jones. There had been on her face when she first
entered an expression of peculiar malignity. Sylvia knew it of old.
She had realized that Mrs. Jones had something sweet for her own
tongue, but bitter for her, in store, and that she was withholding it
as long as possible, in order to prolong the delight of anticipation.
"You've got two boarders, ain't you?" inquired Mrs. Jim Jones.

"I've got one boarder," replied Sylvia, with dignity, "and we keep
him because he can't bear to go anywhere else in East Westland, and
because we like his company."

"I thought Abrahama White's niece--"

"She ain't no boarder. She makes her home here. If you think we'd
take a cent of money from poor Abrahama's own niece, you're mistaken."

"I didn't know. She takes after her grandmother White, don't she? She
was mortal homely."

Then Sylvia fairly turned pale with resentment. "She doesn't look any
more like old Mrs. White than your cat does," said she. "Rose is a
beauty; everybody says so. She's the prettiest girl that ever set
foot in this town."

"Everybody to their taste," replied Mrs. Jim Jones, in the village
formula of contempt. "I heard Mr. Allen, your boarder, was going to
marry her," she added.

"He ain't."

"I'm glad to hear it from headquarters," said Mrs. Jim Jones. "I said
I couldn't believe it was true."