"And how are you this afternoon?" This was addressed to the occupant of
the other house, who, quite oblivious to any alien presence, stood
busily rubbing the chalk-marks from her dress.

Mrs. Blair made no answer. She might have been stone deaf, and as dumb
as the hearthstone bricks. Mrs. Mitchell cast an alarmed glance at her
entertainer.

"Isn't she well?" she said, softly.

"It's a real pretty day, ain't it?" responded Miss Dyer. "If 'twas
summer time, I should think there'd be a sea turn afore night. I like a
sea turn myself. It smells jest like Old Boar's Head."

"I have brought you down some fruit." Mrs. Mitchell was still anxiously
observing the silent figure, now absorbed in an apparently futile
search in a brocaded work-bag. "Mrs. Blair, do you ever cut up bananas
and oranges together?"

No answer. The visitor rose, and unwittingly stepped across the
dividing line.

"Mrs. Blair--" she began, but she got no further.

Her hostess turned upon her, in surprised welcome.

"Well, if it ain't Mis' Mitchell! I can't say I didn't expect you, for
I see you goin' into Miss Dyer's house not more'n two minutes ago.
Seems to me you make short calls. Now set right down here, where you
can see out o' the winder. That square's cracked, but I guess the