early for a call; but I thought I'd drop in on my way
from school." Miss Kimpsey was determined that Mrs. Bell
should have every excuse that charity could invent for
her. She sat down again, and agreed with Mrs. Bell that
they were having lovely weather, especially when they
remembered what a disagreeable fall it had been last
year; certainly this October had been just about perfect.
The ladies used these superlatives in the tone of mild
defiance that almost any statement of fact has upon
feminine lips in America. It did not seem to matter that
their observations were entirely in union.

"I thought I'd run in--" said Miss Kimpsey, screwing
herself up by the arm of her chair.

"Yes?"

"And speak to you about a thing I've been thinking a good
deal of, Mrs. Bell, this last day or two. It's about
Elfrida."

Mrs. Bell's expression became judicial. If this was a
complaint--and she was not accustomed to complaints of
Elfrida--she would be careful how she took it.

"I hope--" she began.

"Oh, you needn't worry, Mrs. Bell. It's nothing about
her conduct, and it's nothing about her school work."