instead of the original twelve small ones. The front yard was
inclosed by a fine iron fence. But the highest mark was shown by a
little white marble statue in the midst of it. There was no other in
the village outside of the cemetery. Mrs. Jane Maxwell's house was
always described to inquiring strangers as the one with the statue in
front of it.

Lois, as they went up the walk, looked wonderingly at this marble
girl standing straight and white in the midst of a votive circle of
box. The walk, too, was bordered with box, and there was a strange
pungent odor from it.

Mrs. Field rang the door-bell, and she and Lois stood waiting. Nobody
came.

Mrs. Field rang again and again. "I'm goin' round to the other door,"
she announced finally. "Mebbe they don't use this one."

Lois followed her mother around to the other side of the house to the
door opening on the south piazza. Mrs. Field rang again, and they
waited: then she gave a harder pull. A voice sounded unexpectedly
close to them from behind the blinds of a window:

"You jest walk right in," said the voice, which was at once flurried
and ceremonious. "Open the door an' go right in, an' turn to the
right, an' set down in the parlor. I'll be in in jest a minute. I
ain't quite dressed."

Lois and her mother went in as they were directed, and sat down in
two of the parlor chairs. The room looked very grand to Mrs. Field.