diaphanous intrenchments of caterpillars. These recitals, all working up to an hysterical crescendo, were pounded like so many coffin-nails in the final burial of a shy, gentle personality. Little by little the impression grew stronger that Miss Frenzy, though still out of jail, was both cruel and "queer," and between these judgments and her sensitive appreciation of them, the tall, stooping figure was se en less and less among intimate gather ings of Ivy Cor ners. or Months passed befo re another name came up for discussion; this time it was the name of the girl in the scarlet cap and sweater; a poor enough little country name; a name hardly destined for tragedy, but when the older townswomen had finished with it, it had become a foul thing-fouler, poor defenseless young name, than the great red-ember names of Catharine de Medici the Empress Faus tine. When autumn dragged its gritty brown leaves into the gutters of Ivy Corners this name, too, had become nearly buried. The little scarlet coat had vanished from the town, but every door-knob seemed to be aware of its history, every window was alert and cold to face it down. White curtains, carefully tied back, seemed to wait primly for the moment when they also would be called to impress themselves upon any one who should be so bold as to try to win their immaculate favor. Yet one winter night when the windblown trees seemed to try to claw the stars out of the sky, the girl in the scarlet coat did come back. There was a push at Miss Frenzy's door, the little shop bell jumped with a scared jangle. It was almost midnight; shadows shivered under the electric lights and the village streets were empty; a prickling drift of snow sifted past the blue bleakness of the windows. Things were at the relentless hour; a second desperate pull sent the store bell into a frightened into the store where the street light still flickered its bleak question. On the shop floor lay a figure. Its abandon had a stark quality, as if it had been buffeted and abandoned to unappeased tortures of the elements. The old spinster, lamp in hand, leaned shivering over it. It was a little scrap of life's tragedy that had blown like a dead leaf in Miss Frenzy's path; she was not prepared for it. 'Not dead? Not dead?" she quavered. Well, yes, it was dead. Miss Frenzy could see animation, the thing we call "life," but even she knew that it was dead youth, with all its fairy powers lost, that she looked upon. She bent closely to stricken lips that muttered a tuneless kind of song: "The night train. . . . If I go back, if I go back.. There was a long silence and then the young voice chanted, deliriously, “In Miss Frenzy's garden . . . the fences are high The girl's body lay with the stamp of primal woe fixed indelibly upon it. It was wastage in the social scheme, yet it had something of torn petal, of windblown butterfly, of wings that had been frozen while fluttering at the very center of the flower of life. Protest dragged at Miss Frenzy's heart. Young," muttered the cracked voice. "Young. The tears tore to the nearsighted eyes. Out of the old maid's defeated being came the curious sense of being true to something; of loyalty to hidden forces life had hitherto kept her from recognizing. As she might have raised a vestal virgin struck down by her flame she raised the piteous form. Staggering to her deserted bed, Miss Frenzy laid the girl in its warmth. She drew off the wrecked red clothing, she made a hot drink and got it somehow between the locked lips. "There, there!" sobbed Miss Frenzy. She knew that "There, there" was what mothers said to their hurt children, and yet she was not a mother-and this-oh, this was not a child! When at last the exhausted frame shuddered down to sleep the old storekeeper moved away, shutting the bedroom door. She went back into the shop and roamed restlessly hither and yon. The electric light had gone out and dawn was stealing in. On every hand some article of woman's clothing interrogated her. Lace collars, immaculate in their set pattern, swayed fastidiously from her absent touch; the cards of buttons eyed her curiously; bolts of smooth, conventional satin ribbon conveyed calm judgments. With a frightened look, she turned out the lamp and sat sleepless at the store window. . All that winter Miss Frenzy held her little fort alone; her gentle face grew sterner, her careful speech more and more stilted. To all inquiries, curious, suave, or critical, she returned the invariable statement: "I have long been in need of an assistant. This young girl is bright and willing; her friends have, most regretably, cast her off-" A dark flush would come into Miss Frenzy's face as she forced herself to add: "It appears that she has had a sad experience. I intend to befriend her." An attitude like this held by a character already under the ban of local disapproval seemed to have only one sig nificance for the leaders of thought in Ivy Corners. It conveyed to such leaders blatant immorality, the countenancing of a sinner who should be made to pay the full penalty for a misstep. Mrs. Tyarck, head held high, was theatrically outraged. With superb ostentation she took to patronizing the "other" drygoods shop, where, in order to put down vice, she bought things of which she disapproved, did not want, or already. possessed duplicates. At this store she made gloomy remarks, such as, "Ef we ain't careful we'll be back ag'in in Godom and Sommarah." No one noticed the slight inaccuracy of pronunciation, but the angle of the wing on Mrs. Tyarck's hat proclaimed to the world at large the direction of her virtuous senti ments. Mrs. Capron, however, laid a loftier plan of attack. Entering the little shop of an evening, she would plant herself before the counter, sigh heavily, and produce from the knobby catchall a tract. This she would hand to the drooping girl in attendance, saying, solemnly, "There is things, young woman, as will bear thinkin' on." Several days later the methodical Mrs. Capron would return with another tract, commanding, as one in authority, "Give that to your mistaken benefactor." She would then hawk once with juridic deliberation, stare into the stricken young face, and majestically depart. But spring, which, when it brings the surge of sap in the trees, also brings back something like kindness and pity in the withered human heart, came to Ivy Corners with its old tender ministry, until the very tufts of grass between the village stones had an air of escape from confining limitations; and until the little store's isolation was pierced by one or two rays of human warmth. The minister's wife called. One or two mothers of large families invented shopping errands in order to show some measure of interest in the young life Miss Frenzy was helping back to usefulness and sanity. The girl's shamed eyes, eyes that would probably never again meet the world's with the gaze of square integrity, often rested like tired birds in looks of sympathy and encouragement. persons as displayed these qualities, however, were sharply disapproved by the more decided voices in village conclaves. Such "There is things which has limits,' criticized Mrs. Tyarck. This lady, in her effort to convey her idea of sustained condemnation, even went so far as once more to enter the little shop to inquire the price of some purple veiling hanging seductively in the window. Miss Giddings herself waited on the shopper; the girl sat near by cutting fresh paper for the shelves. "I ain't here because I'm any the less scandalized," began Mrs. Tyarck in a loud whisper. "Your own reputation was none too safe, Frenzy, that you should go and get a Jezebel to keep store for you. Are you goin' to reduce that veilin' any? I know it's loud, but Tyarck always wants I should dress young.' وو Then there was short silence. The veiling was measured and cut off. Miss Giddings wrapped up the purple net without speaking. Under her glasses her eyes shot fire, her long face was suffused, but she spoke no word. Mrs. Tyarck leaned over the counter, her face poked between rows of hanging black stockings, taking on stockings, taking on a look of bland counsel. "It's on account of them cruelties of yours," she explained-continuing with ostentatious secrecy, "you ain't in no position to take up for this girl, Frenzy." Then the whispers grew louder and louder until they were like hisses. Mrs. Tyarck's head darted forward like a snake's. At last in the back of the store the girl's head fell forward, her weak shoulders were shaken by helpless sobs. The hands of the old shopkeeper fumbling with the package trembled, but Miss Frenzy appeared outwardly calm. Before counting out change, however, she paused, regarding the shopper musingly. "Pardon me. Did I rightly hear you use the word 'cruelties"?" she questioned. To an onlooker her manner might have seemed suspiciously tranquil. "Yes-cruelties," repeated the other, patronizingly. “There's no use denying it, Frenzy-there's that fly-paper loomin' up before you! There's them cattraps and killin' devices, and, as if it wasn't bad enough, what must you do but go and take up with a girl that the whole town says is-" There was a sudden curious cessation of the speaker's words. This was caused by a very sudden action on the part of Miss Giddings. Desperately seizing on a pair of the hanging black stockings, she darted with incredible swiftness around the end of the counter. With a curious sweep of her long arms she passed the black lengths around the shopper's mouth, effectively muffling her. "Cruelties!" gasped the old shopkeeper. "Cruelties indeed! You will [gasp] be so good [gasp] as to take the word cruelties and go home and reflect upon it.” "Hey?" gasped Mrs. Tyarck. "Hey? Now, now, now!" Over the black gag her eyes looked frightened and uncomprehending. She suddenly saw herself in the grasp of the heaver and squeezer, of the chewers and suckers, and was full of consternation. "You've no call to get excited, Frenzy," she mumbled through the cottony thicknesses of stocking; then, as she worked her mouth out of its leash, "I'll have the law on you, Frenzy Giddings!" "Leave the store!" was Miss Frenzy's sole response. She said it between set jaws. She suddenly let go of the stockings and they dropped to the floor. She picked up the parcel of purple veiling and cast it through the door into the gutter. She stood, tall and withering, pointing with inexorable finger; then, as Mrs. Tyarck, the gag removed, began to chatter fierce intimations of reprisal the old shopkeeper's eyes again flashed. "Cruelties!" repeated Miss Frenzy, dwelling scornfully upon the word"cruelties! Yes, I understand your reference." She kept on pointing to the open door. "You refer to the worms, to those creatures that ate and defaced helpless roses; tender young things that couldn't help themselves. . . . Very well. I am still, as it were, inexorable toward worms! So," with a shrill, excited laugh, "I still heave them and squeeze them. Therefore depart-worm! Leave the store!" "Worm?" questioned Mrs. Tyarck, faintly. This lady had suddenly lost all her assurance, the very upstanding wing in her hat became spiritless. She looked aghast, puzzled. Her eyes, like those of a person in a trance, wandered to the package of purple veiling lying outside in the gutter, and she tried to rally. "Worm! Now look here, Frenzy Giddings, I don't know whether it's assault and battery to call a person such names, or whether it's slander, but I tell you the law has had people up for saying less than 'worm.' 999 "But I said 'worm,"" repeated the old shopkeeper, firmly-"worms, contemptible and crawling, chewers and suckers of reputations; you and Mrs. Capron, the whole town (with lamentably few exceptions) are a nest of small, mean, crawling, contemptible worms. Worms, I repeat, worms!" "Frenzy Giddings!" whispered the shocked Mrs. Tyarck. She stood frozen in horror under the last hissing, unsparing indictment, then turned and fled. As she scuttled, almost whimpering, through the door she was followed by the ceaseless, unsparing epithet, "Worm!" The shopkeeper's protégée found her stiff and still unyielding, bowed over the |