little dressmaker. They talked a great deal about Frank. His face and
manner called up the name, and after a few hesitations they used his
Christian name as they did when he came to see them years ago.

"He is a very good fellow--I don't say he isn't. No one could say he
wasn't nice-looking, but somehow he doesn't make you feel--you know,
right down, you know, through and through."

"Electricity," said Maggie, with a low, subtle laugh, and her thread
cracked through the straw of the hat.

"Yes," cried Sally boisterously. "Electricity, I never heard it called
that before; but it isn't a bad name for it; it is like electricity.
When a man looks at you--you know, in a peculiar way, it goes right
down your back from the very crown of your head."

"No, not down my back; I feel it down my chest, just like forked
lightning. Isn't it horrid? You know that it is coming and you can't
help it. Some men fix their eyes on you."

"It is just when you meet a man's eyes--a man you like, but haven't
seen much of."

"I don't think liking has anything to do with it. I hate it; don't
you?"

"No, I don't know that I do. I can't see anything so disagreeable as
that in it. 'Tis rather a shock, a sort of pang."

Mrs. Wood raised her mild face and looked surprised through her thick