"d.i.c.k Torrington," she observed, "is going to be married to that Henrietta girl. But I suppose you know."

"Yes," said Mrs. Upjohn.

"I understood," Miss Lambkin resumed, "that the wedding was to be the last of June."

"The twenty-eighth," said Mrs. Upjohn.

"Oh," rejoined Miss Lambkin, somewhat taken aback by Mrs. Upjohn's ready replies. "And I understood that Henrietta was coming on here to visit right away."

"She came last night," said Mrs. Upjohn.

"To visit with Sally, I suppose?" Letty was consumed with curiosity as to the source of Mrs. Upjohn's accurate information. She always liked to be the source herself.

"She is the guest of Mrs. Torrington," said Mrs. Upjohn, raising her eyes at last.

"Dear me, Alicia," Letty exclaimed impatiently, "how you do snap a person up! I suppose that was why d.i.c.k was grinning so like a monkey when I saw him yesterday afternoon."

"Because I snap a person up?"

"Because Henrietta was coming. He seemed to be on his way to the station."

"Possibly. He didn't tell me the reason. But Henrietta didn't come until nearly ten o'clock."

"Well!" The discomfited Letty devoted herself to her work for some minutes in silence. But she could not keep silent long. "So d.i.c.k gave you all that information, I suppose. I wondered how you got it all so pat."

"No," returned Mrs. Upjohn calmly. "I haven't seen d.i.c.k, to speak to, for a good while."

Miss Lambkin laid down her work. "Well, Alicia," she said slowly, "will you be good enough to tell me how you found out all that--right up to last night?"

"Better than that, Letty," Mrs. Upjohn replied. "I know what happened this morning, about half past seven."

"They ate their breakfast, I suppose," snapped Letty. "I could have told you that."

"They didn't have breakfast until eight," said Mrs. Upjohn.

"Oh, Lord!" cried Miss Lambkin in utter disgust. She had been tried beyond the bounds of reason.

Mrs. Upjohn laughed until the tears stood in her eyes. "As to my information, Letty," she said as soon as she could speak, "I pick it up here and there, and I use my eyes."

"As much as to say that you give a good guess. I thought I was pretty good at picking up information. But you have me beat, Alicia, I'm free to confess."

Mrs. Upjohn made no reply.

"It's rather a pity that d.i.c.k didn't choose nearer home," Miss Lambkin resumed, after pausing long enough for the reply which did not come.

"There's Sally, now."

"They'd have made a good match," Mrs. Upjohn observed, sighing reminiscently, "but there's no accounting for tastes in such matters."

"Meaning Everett?" asked Letty, looking up sharply.

Mrs. Upjohn shook her head. "Not especially."

"I suppose you know," said Miss Lambkin pointedly, "with your sources of accurate information, that he's hanging around again. There was a time when it seemed to be all off for a few weeks."

Mrs. Upjohn nodded.

"There are some cases where you can't even give a good guess," Letty continued maliciously. "Aren't there, Alicia?"

Mrs. Upjohn nodded again; but she only rocked gently and said nothing.

Miss Lambkin seemed to be following out a train of thought, but in silence. That was not her custom. She usually pursued thought with a wild halloa.

Presently she gave a sort of a cackle, which with her did duty for a chuckle of amus.e.m.e.nt. "I'd give something to have seen Charlie Ladue when he first heard of Patty's fix. I'll warrant he didn't like it. I wonder whether Sally knows. It seems to me that she ought to be told."

"Told what, Letty? A pack of stories that are no more than guessing?

And who's to tell her? When we know anything about Charlie it'll be time enough to be thinking about telling Sally."

"All the same," Letty pursued obstinately, "Sally ought to know."

"Humph!" said Mrs. Upjohn.

CHAPTER XVI

Henrietta sat on the edge of Sally's bed, swinging her little feet, which hardly touched the floor,--she had only to raise the tips and they swung clear,--and she was as smiling, as pretty, as dainty, as inconsequent, and as charming as ever. At least, Sally seemed to find her charming and so, it is to be presumed, did d.i.c.k. Sally, with a little smile upon her lips, leaned against the window casing and looked at her. She feasted her eyes; she looked so long and she stared so hard that Henrietta dammed, for a moment, the stream of talk that flowed from her lips and flushed a little, faintly.

"What's the matter, Sally? I know my hair's in a mess. Is there anything wrong with my dress? Have I got a dirty face? I washed it, but if there is a smudge on my nose I think it is the part of a friend to tell me and not let me go out looking like a fright."

Sally shook her head slowly. "There's nothing the matter, Henrietta. I was only thinking what a lucky man d.i.c.k is."

The flush on Henrietta's face deepened. "Oh, do you think so, Sally?"

she asked softly. "Do you really think so? I was a little bit afraid you didn't approve. And how about me? Don't you think I'm a lucky girl?"

"Very," answered Sally, smiling still. "d.i.c.k is everything that's good. He's the one best man for you. But why did you think that I might not approve?"

"We--ll," said Henrietta with some hesitation, bending forward to look at her swinging feet, then looking up at Sally, "I--I went after him in such a barefaced manner, and you knew it." Sally shook her head again. "Oh, yes, you did. It's no use to shake your gory locks at me.

You knew I did; the very night of your fire. I don't deny it. I did go after him with all my might and I got him." She spoke triumphantly.

"I'm glad I went after him, for--for I never should have got him at all if I had not. I'm proud of it, but I don't advertise it, generally. I confess it to you, but I should deny the fact to anybody else. Wild horses shouldn't drag it out of me. Not ever! And then, Sally, another reason why I was a little afraid you wouldn't approve--" Henrietta hesitated again, stopped, and once more regarded her feet.

"Well?" Sally asked, amused.

"Well." Henrietta looked up and smiled. "To tell the truth, I couldn't believe that you didn't want him yourself. There! It's out. Just a little, Sally."

Sally laughed. "Not even just a little, Henrietta. d.i.c.k is a dear friend--he has been that to me always, ever since his kite and Everett's broke my foot--and I hope he always will be; but the idea of falling in love with each other never entered either of our heads. So you may be quite easy in your mind. My heart isn't even bent."