dress," drew forth a ball of twine. She chalked it, still in delighted
haste, and forced one end upon her bewildered room-mate.

"You go out there to the middle square o' the front winder," she
commanded, "an' hold your end o' the string down on the floor. I'll
snap it."

Miss Dyer cast one despairing glance about her, and obeyed.

"Crazy!" she muttered. "Oh my land! she's crazy's a loon. I wisht Mis'
Mitchell'd pitch her tent here a spell!"

But Mrs. Blair was following out her purpose in a manner exceedingly
methodical. Drawing out one bed, so that it stood directly opposite her
kneeling helper, she passed the cord about the leg of the bedstead and
made it fast; then, returning to the middle of the room, she snapped
the line triumphantly. A faint chalk-mark was left upon the floor.

"There!" she cried. "Leggo! Now, you gi' me the chalk, an' I'll go over
it an' make it whiter."

She knelt and chalked with the utmost absorption, crawling along on her
knees, quite heedless of the despised alpaca; and Miss Dyer, hovering
in a corner, timorously watched her. Mrs. Blair staggered to her feet,
entangled by her skirt, and pitching like a ship at sea.

"There!" she announced. "Now here's two rooms. The chalk-mark's the
partition. You can have the mornin' sun, for I'd jest as soon live by a
taller candle if I can have somethin' that's my own. I'll chalk a lane
into the closet, an' we'll both keep a right o' way there. Now I'm to