his keen eyes and his real or affected indifference to feminine wiles
pleasantly stimulating. There was some fun in talking to Jim Dodge.
But of late she had not been afforded the opportunity. Fanny had
explained to Ellen that Jim was working terribly hard, often rising
at three and four in the morning to work on his own farm, and putting
in long days at the Bolton place.

"She seems to have most of the men in Brookville doing for her,"
Ellen had remarked coldly.

Then the girls had exchanged cautious glances.

"There's something awfully funny about her coming here, anyway," said
Ellen. "Everybody thinks it's queer."

"I expect she had a reason," said Fanny, avoiding Ellen's eyes.

After which brief interchange of opinion they had twined their arms
about each other's waists and squeezed wordless understanding and
sympathy. Henceforth, it was tacitly understood between the two girls
that singly and collectively they did not "like" Lydia Orr.

Lydia understood without further explanation that she was not to look
to her nearest neighbors for either friendship or the affection she
so deeply craved. Both Ellen and Fanny had passed the place every day
since its restoration began; but not once had either betrayed the
slightest interest or curiosity in what was going on beyond the
barrier of the hedge. To be sure, Fanny had once stopped to speak to
her brother; but when Lydia had hurried hopefully out to greet her it
was only to catch a glimpse of the girl's back as she walked quickly