the next minute for speaking of such a thing."

"Poor child," said Dr. Lavendar, "living up there alone, and with such
memories! I guess you're right; I guess she'd like to have little
David, if only for company. But I think I'll keep him for a week or
two myself, and let her get sort of acquainted with him under my eye.
That will give me a chance to get acquainted with her. But to think I
haven't known about that baby until now! It must be my fault that she
was not drawn to tell me. But I'm afraid I wasn't drawn to her just at
first."

Yet Dr. Lavendar was not altogether at fault. This newcomer in Old
Chester was still a stranger to everybody, except to Sam Wright's Sam
and to William King. To be sure, as soon as she was settled in her
house Old Chester had called and asked her to tea, and was confused
and annoyed because its invitations were not accepted. Furthermore,
she did not return the calls. She went to church, but not very
regularly, and she never stopped to gossip in the vestibule or the
church-yard. Even with Dr. Lavendar she was remote. The first time he
went to see her he asked, with his usual directness, one or two
questions: Did Mr. Pryor live in Mercer? No; he had business that
brought him there occasionally. Where did he live? In Philadelphia.
Had she any relatives in this part of the world--except her brother?
No, none; none anywhere. Was Mr. Pryor married? Yes. Had he any
family? One daughter; his wife was dead. "And you have lost your
husband?" Dr. Lavendar said, gently. "This is a lonely life for you
here, I am afraid."

But she said oh, no; not at all; she liked the quiet. Then, with faint
impatience as if she did not care to talk about her own affairs, she