The remainder of the week brought a string of visitors, for Mrs. Perry had not been slow in spreading the news of the new inmate of Miss Rindy Crump’s home, and all were curious to know what this young person might be like.

The morning after Mr. Todd’s call Marietta Hale came running in with a plate of hot rolls. “I just thought I’d bring these in myself,” she said. “Lucilena this minute took them out of the oven, and they’re piping hot. Barry wasn’t quite ready for breakfast. This your niece, Miss Rindy?”

“My cousin,” corrected Miss Rindy.

“Oh, yes, I remember Mrs. Perry did say cousin. I’m glad she’s come. Billy took such a fancy to her. He told me there was a ‘wovewy young wady’ next door; he has trouble with his l’s you know.” She smiled upon Ellen, who, in the grace of her girlish slimness, appealed to the plump Marietta just as she had appealed to Jeremy Todd. “Do run in often to see me,” Mrs. Hale added.

“You mean to see Billy; she wouldn’t be liable to find you at home,” remarked Miss Rindy with a twinkle.

“Now, Miss Rindy, you know I’m not always out,” protested Marietta laughing. She was always good-natured.

“Well, I don’t know the time when I’ve not met you either going or coming,” retorted Miss Rindy.

“Then that means you are out as often as I am,” declared Marietta triumphantly, and after this parting shot she announced that she must fly or Barry would be mad because she kept breakfast waiting; “though, goodness knows, he does it often enough himself,” she said as she went out.

“She’s rather a good sort, flibbertigibbet though she is,” admitted Miss Rindy. “She’s as generous as they make ’em, good-tempered, too. You never hear her pick people to pieces the way some do. You needn’t smile, Ellen; I know I do a good deal of criticising myself, but I try not to make it ill-natured. Besides I am analyzing the townsfolk for your benefit, so you may know what to expect. I suppose you’d find out for yourself in time, but forewarned is forearmed.”

The day was still young when Ellen discovered that she had not been forewarned in the case of Miss Sophia Garrett, who came in before the morning work was quite done. She was a lady of uncertain years but of no uncertain opinions. She prided herself upon being blunt and outspoken, avowing that she would speak the truth at any cost.

“Well, Rindy,” she began as she entered, “where’s the girl? I hear you have taken on a new responsibility. I hope you haven’t done anything rash, committed yourself so to speak. It is a serious undertaking to assume the care of a giddy young girl. Nobody can tell how she will turn out, and if she grows up to be a slattern or a light character, you will be censured for not bringing her up as you should.”

“Ellen may be young, but I don’t believe any one could charge her with being giddy,” Miss Rindy retorted.

“Well, you never can tell. A new broom sweeps clean. Are you going to train her as a servant or a lady? Is she bound out to you till she is eighteen? Somebody suggested that you had found her in an orphan asylum.”

“Then somebody spoke falsely.” Miss Rindy’s firm lips straightened to a hard line. “She is my cousin, and, being such, should not fail to be a lady. Come in, Ellen,” she invited as Ellen appeared at the door. “This is my young cousin, Ellen North, and Ellen, this is Miss Sophia Garrett, an old schoolmate of mine.”

Miss Garrett offered her hand and proceeded to look Ellen over with a critical eye. “Humph! she has red hair; that always means a high temper. It’s well she hasn’t the light eyebrows and eyelashes that generally go with red hair. She doesn’t look to be so very strong, but then maybe she’s one of the wiry kind. I like a bigger nose and a smaller mouth, myself.” Miss Garrett admired no features that did not resemble her own, no possessions which were unlike those she had. She was a short, chunky sort of person with thick arms and legs, big head, large nose, small mouth, and long chin. She had very large, prominent light blue eyes, and mouse-colored hair. She was distinctly the opposite of the type which Ellen had always been taught to admire, although she evidently was very much satisfied with herself.

After her survey of Ellen the questions began again. “Father and mother dead, did you say?” She turned to Miss Rindy.

“I didn’t say, but it is a fact,” returned Miss Rindy tartly.

“What did they die of? I hope it wasn’t consumption; it would be too bad if she brought the germs into this house.”

“It was not consumption. Cousin Gerald was gassed and suffered from shell-shock.”

“In the war, was he? Oh, yes. And the mother?”

“Died of pneumonia.”

“Dear me! Was that before or after the husband?”

“After.”

“Well, I must say I think it’s pretty hard on you.”

“I consider it is a privilege. Even if Ellen were not a relative I would be glad to be permitted to do my bit for the child of one of our own men. I saw enough when I was in France to appreciate all they went through. I certainly should be willing to share what I have with one of my own blood, setting aside the question of patriotism.”

“How old is the girl?” asked Miss Garrett, changing the subject back to Ellen herself.

“She is fifteen.”

“Small for her age, isn’t she? But there’s time for her to grow. Going to send her to school, I suppose.”

“Most certainly.”

During these interrogations Ellen was most unhappy. She looked pleadingly at her cousin, who understood and made the suggestion that she should go into the kitchen to see if the soup were boiling over; and the girl, grateful for a chance to escape, obeyed with alacrity, hearing, however, as she went out, that Miss Garrett had started a new topic.

“Speaking of schools,” Miss Sophia began, “did you hear about the new teacher? She went riding alone with a young man last Sunday afternoon when she should have been in Sunday school teaching a class and behaving herself.”

“Do you call that misbehaving?” was what Ellen heard her cousin ask.

Then she heard no more, for the soup was not boiling over, so she went down to the back lot in order to get away as far as possible. Later she saw Miss Garrett going down the street, so, returning, she found her cousin sitting with some sewing, the cat in her lap.

She smiled quizzically as Ellen entered. “Well, how did you like Miss Garrett?” she asked.

“I didn’t like her at all,” answered Ellen hotly.

“Of course you didn’t. I needn’t have asked the question. She is a gossipy old frump. She is so strait-laced it’s a wonder she doesn’t break in two. Virtuous? Oh, yes, she has all the Christian virtues except charity. I call her an article of bigotry and virtue, for she is narrow-minded to the last degree, and has no use for any one who doesn’t live up to her standards. She has not cottoned to me much since I came back from overseas, and I was rather surprised to see her this morning. She came only out of curiosity, of course, for she doesn’t love me.”

“I don’t see what she could have against you.” Ellen was ready to take up the cudgels.

“I gave a little talk before the Guild one day, and she has scarcely spoken to me since.”

“What could you have said to offend her?”

“Oh, I don’t know; she was offended on general principles. For one thing I said that self-esteem doesn’t like suggestion, gives suggestion but won’t take it; that the Kaiser was such an example of self-aggrandizement, vainglory, and hypocrisy that he might really do some good by showing the world how despicable those qualities are. Then she thought I was utterly lost when I told my audience that the men in the trenches considered cowardice, selfishness, niggardliness, and boastfulness were the cardinal sins, worse, well, than some other things.”

“Yes, I know; I’ve heard my father say that, too,” responded Ellen. “I think it was splendid for you to go over and help, Cousin Rindy.”

“Why shouldn’t I have gone? There was nothing to prevent. Nobody suffered by my going. It was a great experience, and I did help a little, whatever Sophia may think of it. The trouble with her is that she looms up so large in her foreground that others can be seen only around the edges of her personality; that never gets any one very far. Get down, Wipers; you’re in the way.”

“Why do you call him Wipers?” asked Ellen, picking up the big gray cat and cuddling him in her arms.

“That’s the way the boys pronounced Ypres, and it is in memory of war days. I wanted an original name and I have it, don’t you think?”

“I do, indeed. I like it better now that I know. Are there many others in town as gossipy and critical as Miss Garrett and Mrs. Perry?”

“No, as far as I know I should say that they head the list.”

“There is one thing to be thankful for, and that is our neighbors on both sides are as nice as can be.”

“You haven’t met Bessie Todd yet,” returned Miss Rindy grimly.

This was true, and Ellen appreciated the sly reference not long after when a great ki-yiing in the garden took her out to see what was going on. She discovered that Wipers had wreathed himself around the neck of Mrs. Todd’s little dog, Bunty. Wipers had borne much from Bunty, who, once too often, had intruded himself into Miss Crump’s premises, for the sole purpose of worrying his furry neighbor, and now was receiving entirely unexpected but well-deserved punishment.

Ellen rushed to the gap in the fence where the affray was going on and was confronted by a large, irate woman who screamed out: “Drive off your cat. The horrid, savage beast, to attack a harmless little dog like Bunty!”

“He’s been teasing the cat,” Ellen defended. “He’s been doing it for days.”

“But he’s never done the creature any harm.”

“Because Wipers was too smart for him; he would have done it fast enough if he’d been given a chance.”

“I wish he had. Let me catch that cat on my premises and I’ll let it know what boiling water feels like.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be so cruel,” cried Ellen. “Would you like us to throw hot water on your dog when he comes in here? He does it every day, and has no business to.” Ellen’s dander was up.

“Who are you, miss, to give impudence, I’d like to know?” retorted the woman.

“I’m Ellen North, and I live at Miss Crump’s. Wipers has just as good a right to defend himself as your dog has.”

“Well, let him keep his own side the fence;” Mrs. Todd was cooling off a little.

“Exactly what he was doing when your dog chased him. The dog was the intruder, not Wipers.”

By this time Wipers had relinquished his hold upon the whimpering Bunty. Ellen picked him up and bore him back to the house, hearing Mrs. Todd’s angry tones growing fainter and fainter as she retreated to her own door.

With flushed cheeks and excited voice Ellen, almost in tears, gave her account of the fracas.

Miss Rindy listened attentively. “I like dogs, but I like cats, too, and better than any other dog or cat I like Wipers, so I’m glad he has put the fear of cats into Bunty’s cowardly little soul. I’ll warrant he’ll not venture into this yard again, not when Wipers is there. One lesson will be enough for him.”

“But Mrs. Todd said she would throw hot water on Wipers if he went in there again, and cats will prowl.”

“She won’t. She’s like her dog, her bark is worse than her bite. That’s Bessie Todd all over. You’d think she was going to tear you to pieces, and the next thing she’ll be handing you a plate of fried chicken over the fence. I haven’t been her neighbor all this while for nothing. It doesn’t do any good to bandy words with her. It’s best to wait till she gets over her pepper-jig before you say anything. The Irish will crop out when she gets mad.”

“Is she Irish?”

“Her mother was. We won’t carry on a feud, Ellen. You’ll see that her sputtering doesn’t amount to anything. Like as not the next time you see her she’ll be stroking Wipers and calling him a nice kitty. I know.”

The next Sunday Ellen discovered that her cousin was right, for the lady smiled and bowed most graciously as they all came out of church. Ellen was arrayed in her newly dyed garments and felt very respectable. The black was very becoming to her fair skin and rippling tawny hair. Miss Rindy was evidently proud of her, introducing her right and left as, “My little girl, Ellen North.” When they walked up the street with the Todds, Ellen fell behind with Jeremy while Mrs. Todd chatted away vivaciously with Miss Rindy, the two appearing to be on the best of terms.

“You noticed that I played ‘Warum’ for the offertory this morning,” said Mr. Todd to his companion.

“Oh, I did notice, and I could scarcely keep back the tears. ‘Why? Why?’ it kept saying to me, and I wondered why trouble and grief must come.”

“I know, I know, but you must not be unhappy, little Ellen. A good man has said: ‘It is not by change of circumstances, but by fitting our spirits to the circumstances in which God has placed us, that we can be reconciled to life and duty.’ And another says that trouble ‘brings for us, if we will accept it, the boon of fortitude, patience, self-control, wisdom, sympathy, faith.’ Those are big things to gain, Ellen,—big things.”

Ellen smiled rather wistfully. “I’ll try to remember,” she replied.