out of her mind this time, and there would be an end of it.

However, the unanimity on this point was equalled by the determination of everybody, old and young, rich and poor, to go to the party. In fact, it seemed probable that every house in the village would be deserted on the eventful evening; for not a soul was willing to lose the sight of a party in the old Inn.

Report said, as the day came nearer and nearer, that great preparations were going on. Every woman who had any skill in cookery had offered her services eagerly, hoping to have some share in the great doings; Mrs. Fullby had "presumed likely" that Bethesda would have more'n she could manage with her own two hands, and had assured her that she, Mrs. Fullby, would jis lives's not bring her apurn and eggbeater and put right in on the cake and frostin'! while Miss Virginia Sharpe hinted delicately that there was "a certain twist" in the making of pastry that[Pg 48] was considered peculiar to the Sharpe family, and that no festivity would be complete without "Sharpe tarts;" but Miss Bethesda was of the opinion that she and Iry could do what was necessary, and just as much obleeged to them! and in point of fact, not a soul, with the exception of Nan Bradford, who was seen to emerge once from the Inn, looking rather frightened but very happy, was permitted to set foot within the mysterious doors. Mrs. Peake said that she saw Nan coming home, looking as if she had seen a ghost and lost her heart to it; but Mrs. Peake had a poetic way with her, and her remarks were not much heeded in the village.

[Pg 48]

It was thought more likely that Nan had been poking her nose in where her betters wouldn't ha' thought of poking theirs, and got it taken off for her pains, and served her right! But it happened that Mrs. Peake was right this time.

Thursday evening came! The moon was full, the sleighing perfect; Nature was evidently in league with Miss Bethesda Pool, and meant to do her share in making the party a success. Miss Pool, standing in state at the end of the ballroom, waiting for her guests to arrive, made a pleasant picture in her old-fashioned flowered brocade, one of the self-supporting kind, little beholden to any figure inside it. Her hair was still brown, still pretty, with its crinkles that[Pg 49] caught the light, and gave her a wonderful look of youth, well carried out by her bright hazel eyes, and trim figure. In truth, she was not old, Miss Bethesda; her fortieth birthday was only just past, and she was straight as a dart, and strong as a tree; but when 

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