Clara had been out rather late, and came to the table after the rest
were seated. She wore a puzzled expression.

"Do you ever see Mary Spence nowadays?" she inquired, as she unfolded
her napkin, addressing Mrs. Schofield. Penrod abruptly set down his
soup-spoon and gazed at his aunt with flattering attention.

"Yes; sometimes," said Mrs. Schofield. "She's Penrod's teacher."

"Is she?" said Mrs. Farry. "Do you--" She paused. "Do people think her a
little--queer, these days?"

"Why, no," returned her sister. "What makes you say that?"

"She has acquired a very odd manner," said Mrs. Farry decidedly. "At
least, she seemed odd to ME. I met her at the corner just before I got
to the house, a few minutes ago, and after we'd said howdy-do to each
other, she kept hold of my hand and looked as though she was going to
cry. She seemed to be trying to say something, and choking----"

"But I don't think that's so very queer, Clara. She knew you in school,
didn't she?"

"Yes, but----"

"And she hadn't seen you for so many years, I think it's perfectly
natural she----"

"Wait! She stood there squeezing my hand, and struggling to get her
voice--and I got really embarrassed--and then finally she said, in a