In August Father Duff died. Miss came home at once. James Blaisdell was already in town. Hattie was at the mountains. She wrote that she could not think of coming down for the funeral, but she ordered an expensive wreath. Frank and Jane were in the Far West, and could not possibly have arrived in time, anyway. None of the young people came.  
Mr. Smith helped in every way that he could help, and Miss Maggie told him that he was a great comfort, and that she did not know what she would have done without him. Miss Flora and Mr. James Blaisdell helped, too, in every way possible, and at last the first hard sad days were over, and the household had settled back into something like normal conditions again.
 
Miss Maggie had more time now, and she went often to drive or for motor rides with Mr. Smith. Together they explored for miles around; and although Miss Maggie worried sometimes because they found so little Blaisdell data, Mr. Smith did not seem to mind it at all.
 
In September Miss Flora moved into an attractive house on the West Side, bought some new furniture, and installed a maid in the kitchen—all under Miss Maggie's . In September, too, Frank and Jane Blaisdell came home, and the young people began to prepare for the coming school year.
 
Mr. Smith met Mrs. Hattie one day, coming out of Miss Maggie's gate. She smiled and greeted him cordially, but she looked so palpably upset over something that he exclaimed to Miss Maggie, as soon he entered the house: "What was it? IS anything the matter with Mrs. James Blaisdell?"
 
Miss Maggie smiled—but she frowned, too.
 
"No, oh, no—except that Hattie has discovered that a hundred thousand dollars isn't a million."
 
"What do you mean by that?"
 
"Oh, where she's been this summer she's measured up, of course, with people a great deal richer than she. And she doesn't like it. Here in Hillerton her hundred—and two-hundred-dollar dresses looked very grand to her, but she's discovered that there are women who pay five hundred and a thousand, and even more. She feels very cheap and poverty-stricken now, therefore, in her two-hundred-dollar gowns. Poor Hattie! If she only would stop trying to live like somebody else!"
 
"But I thought—I thought this money was making them happy,"
Mr. Smith.
"It was—until she realized that somebody else had more," sighed Miss
Maggie, with a shake of her head.
"Oh, well, she'll get over that."
 
"Perhaps."
 
"At any rate, it's brought her husband some comfort."
 
"Y-yes, it has; but—"
 
"What do you mean by that?" he demanded, when she did not finish her sentence.
 
"I was wondering—if it would bring him any more."
 
"They haven't lost it?"
 
"Oh, no, but they've spent a lot—and Hattie is beginning again her old talk that she MUST have more money in order to live 'even decent.' It sounds very familiar to me, and to Jim, I suspect, poor fellow. I saw him the other night, and from what he said, and what she says, I can see pretty well how things are going. She's trying to get some of her rich friends to give Jim a better position, where he'll earn more. She doesn't understand, either, why Jim can't go into the stock market and make millions, as some men do. I'm afraid she isn't always—patient. She says there are Fred and Elizabeth and Benjamin to educate, and that she's just got to have more money to tide them over till the rest of the comes."
 
"The rest of the legacy!" exploded Mr. Smith. "Good Heavens, does that woman think that—" Mr. Smith stopped with the air of one pulling himself back from an abyss.
 
Miss Maggie laughed.
 
"I don't wonder you exclaim. It is funny—the way she takes that for granted, isn't it? Still, there are grounds for it, of course."
 
"Oh, are there? Do YOU think—she'll get more, then?" demanded Mr.
Smith, almost .
Miss Maggie laughed again.
 
"I don't know what to think. To my mind the whole thing was rather extraordinary, anyway, that he should have given them anything—utter strangers as they were. Still, as Hattie says, as long as he HAS recognized their existence, why, he may again of course. Still, on the other hand, he may have very reasonably argued that, having willed them a hundred thousand apiece, that was quite enough, and he'd give the rest somewhere else."
 
"Humph! Maybe," Mr. Smith.
 
"And he may come back alive from South America"
 
"He may."
 
"But Hattie isn't counting on either of these , and she is counting on the money," sighed Miss Maggie, sobering again. "And Jim,—poor Jim!—I'm afraid he's going to find it just as hard to keep caught up now—as he used to."
 
"Humph!" Mr. Smith frowned. He did not speak again. He stood looking out of the window, in deep thought.
 
Miss Maggie, with another sigh, turned and went out into the kitchen.
 
The next day, on the street, Mr. Smith met Mellicent Blaisdell. She was with a tall, manly-looking, square-jawed young fellow whom Mr. Smith had never seen before. Mellicent smiled and blushed adorably. Then, to his surprise, she stopped him with a gesture.
 
"Mr. Smith, I know it's on the street, but I—I want Mr. Gray to meet you, and I want you to meet Mr. Gray. Mr. Smith is—is a very good friend of mine, Donald."
 
Mr. Smith greeted Donald Gray with a warm handshake and a keen glance
into his face. The blush, the , the shy happiness in
Mellicent's eyes had been unmistakable. Mr. Smith felt suddenly that
Donald Gray was a man he very much wanted to know—a good deal about.
He chatted affably for a minute. Then he went home and straight to Miss
Maggie.
"Who's Donald Gray, please?" he demanded.
 
Miss Maggie laughed and threw up her hands.
 
"Oh, these children!"
 
"But who is he?"
 
"Well, to begin with, he's to Mellicent."
 
"You don't have to tell me that. I've seen him—and Mellicent."
 
"Oh!" Miss Maggie smiled appreciatively.
 
"What I want to know is, who is he?"
 
"He's a young man whom Mellicent met this summer. He plays the violin, and Mellicent played his accompaniments in a church entertainment. That's where she met him first. He's the son of a minister near their camp, where the girls went to church. He's a fine fellow, I guess. He's hard hit—that's sure. He came to Hillerton at once, and has gone to work in Hammond's real estate office. So you see he's in earnest."
 
"I should say he was! I liked his appearance very much."
 
"Yes, I did—but her mother doesn't."
 
"What do you mean? She—objects?"
 
"Decidedly! She says he's worse than Carl Pennock—that he hasn't got any money, not ANY money."
 
"Money!" ejaculated Mr. Smith, in genuine . "You don't mean that she's really letting money stand in the way if Mellicent cares for him? Why, it was only a year ago that she herself was bitterly Mrs. Pennock for doing exactly the same thing in the case of young Pennock and Mellicent."
 
"I know," nodded Miss Maggie. "But—she seems to have forgotten that."
 
"Shoe's on the other foot this time."
 
"It seems to be."
 
"Hm-m!" muttered Mr. Smith.
 
"I don't think Jane has done much yet, by way of . You see they've only reached home, and she's just found out about it. But she told me she shouldn't let it go on, not for a moment. She has other plans for Mellicent."
 
"Shall I be—meddling in what isn't my business, if I ask what they are?" Mr. Smith diffidently. "You know I am very much interested in—Miss Mellicent."
 
"Not a bit. I'm glad to have you. Perhaps you can suggest—a way out for us," sighed Miss Maggie. "The case is just this: Jane wants Mellicent to marry Hibbard Gaylord."
 
"Shucks! I've seen young Gray only once, but I'd give more for his little finger than I would for a cartload of Gaylords!" flung out Mr. Smith.
 
"So would I," approved Miss Maggie. "But Jane—well, Jane feels otherwise. To begin with, she's very much flattered at Gaylord's attentions to Mellicent—the more so because he's left Bessie—I beg her pardon, 'Elizabeth'—for her."
 
"Then Miss Elizabeth is in it, too?"
 
"Very much in it. That's one of the reasons why Hattie is so anxious for more money. She wants clothes and jewels for Bessie so she can keep pace with the Gaylords. You see there's a wheel within a wheel here."
 
"I should say there was!"
 
"As near as I can judge, young Gaylord is Bessie's devoted slave—until Mellicent arrives; then he has eyes only for HER, which Bessie and her mother not a little. They were together more or less all summer and I think Hattie thought the match was as good as made. Now, once in Hillerton, back he flies to Mellicent."
 
"And—Mellicent?"
 
Miss Maggie's eyes became gravely troubled.
 
"I don't understand Mellicent. I think—no, I KNOW she cares for young Gray; but—well, I might as well admit it, she is ready any time to with Hibbard Gaylord, or—or with anybody else, for that matter. I saw her with you at the party last Christmas!" Miss Maggie's face showed a sudden pink blush.
 
Mr. Smith gave a laugh.
 
"Don't you worry, Miss Maggie. If she'll flirt with young Gaylord AND
OTHERS, it's all right. There's safety in numbers, you know."
"But I don't like to have her flirt at all, Mr. Smith."
 
"It isn't flirting. It's just her bottled-up childhood and youth
bubbling over. She can't help bubbling, she's been repressed so long.
She'll come out all right, and she won't come out hand in hand with
Hibbard Gaylord. You see if she does."
Miss Maggie shook her head and sighed.
 
"You don't know Jane. Jane will never give up. She'll be quiet, but she'll be firm. With one hand she'll keep Gray away, and with the other she'll push Gaylord forward. Even Mellicent herself won't know how it's done. But it'll be done, and I tremble for the consequences."
 
"Hm-m!" Mr. Smith's eyes had lost their twinkle now. To himself he muttered: "I wonder if maybe—I hadn't better take a hand in this thing myself."
 
"You said—I didn't understand what you said," murmured Miss Maggie doubtfully.
 
"Nothing—nothing, Miss Maggie," replied the man. Then, with business-like alertness, he lifted his chin. "How long do you say this has been going on?"
 
"Why, especially since they all came home two weeks ago. Jane knew nothing of Donald Gray till then."
 
"Where does Carl Pennock come in?"
 
Miss Maggie gave a gesture of despair.
 
"Oh, he comes in anywhere that he can find a chance; though, to do her justice, Mellicent doesn't give him—many chances."
 
"What does her father say to all this? How does he like young Gray?"
 
Miss Maggie gave another gesture of desp............