blueberries grew far away and the Old Lady had many a tramp
after them. Sometimes her bones ached at night because of it;
but what cared the Old Lady for that? Bone ache is easier to
endure than soul ache; and the Old Lady's soul had stopped
aching for the first time in many year. It was being nourished
with heavenly manna.

One evening Crooked Jack came up to fix something that had
gone wrong with the Old Lady's well. The Old Lady wandered
affably out to him; for she knew he had been working at the
Spencers' all day, and there might be crumbs of information
about Sylvia to be picked up.

"I reckon the music teacher's feeling pretty blue this
evening," Crooked Jack remarked, after straining the Old
Lady's patience to the last verge of human endurance by
expatiating on William Spencer's new pump, and Mrs. Spencer's
new washing-machine, and Amelia Spencer's new young man.

"Why?" asked the Old Lady, turning very pale. Had anything
happened to Sylvia?

"Well, she's been invited to a big party at Mrs. Moore's
brother's in town, and she hasn't got a dress to go in," said
Crooked Jack. "They're great swells and everybody will be got
up regardless. Mrs. Spencer was telling me about it. She says
Miss Gray can't afford a new dress because she's helping to
pay her aunt's doctor's bills. She says she's sure Miss Gray
feels awful disappointed over it, though she doesn't let on.
But Mrs. Spencer says she knows she was crying after she went