The Debtor | Page 5

with an undertone of joy, thinking of
her carpet up-stairs, and rising with thinly veiled alacrity.
"Have you called?" asked Mrs. Van Dorn, moving towards the door,
and gathering up her skirts delicately with her white kid fingers,
preparatory to going down the steps. Mrs. Lee followed, also gathering
up her skirts.

"No, I have not yet," replied Mrs. Morris, preceding them to the door
and opening it for them, "but I intend to do so very soon. I have been
pretty busy house-cleaning since they came, and that is only two weeks
ago, but I am going to call."
"I think it is one's duty to call on new-comers, with a view to their
church-going, if nothing else," said Mrs. Van Dorn, with a virtuous air.
"So do I," said Mrs. Lee.
"Good-afternoon," said Mrs. Van Dorn. "What a beautiful day it is!"
Both ladies bade Mrs. Morris good-afternoon and she returned the
salutation with unction. Both ladies looked fascinatedly to the last at
the black smooch on her cheek as they backed out.
"I thought I should burst right out laughing every time I looked at her,
in spite of myself," whispered Mrs. Lee, as they passed down the walk.
"So did I."
"And no collar on!"
"Yes. She must have been house-cleaning."
"Yes. Well, I don't want to say disagreeable things, but really it doesn't
seem to me that I would have been house-cleaning such an afternoon as
this, when people were likely to be out calling."
"Well, I know I would not," said Mrs. Van Dorn, decidedly. "I should
have done what I could in the morning, and left what I couldn't do till
next day."
"So should I."
Samson Rawdy stood at the coach-door, and both ladies stepped in.
Then he stood waiting expectantly for orders. The ladies looked at each
other.

"Where shall we go next?" asked Mrs. Lee.
"Well, I don't know," said Mrs. Van Dorn, hesitatingly. "We were
going to Mrs. Fairfield's next, but I am afraid there won't be time if--"
"It really seems to me that we ought to go to call on those new people,"
said Mrs. Lee.
"Well, I think so too. I suppose there would be time if Mrs. Fairfield
wasn't at home, and it is such a lovely day I doubt if she is, and it is on
the way to the Carrolls'." She spoke with sudden decision to Samson
Rawdy. "Drive to Mr. Andrew Fairfield's, and as fast as you can,
please." Then she and Mrs. Lee leaned back as the coach whirled out of
the Morris grounds.
It was only a short time before they wound swiftly around the small
curve of drive before the Fairfield house. "There is no need of both of
us getting out," said Mrs. Van Dorn.
Mrs. Van Dorn alighted and went swiftly with a tiptoeing effect upon
the piazza-steps. She was seen to touch the bell. She waited a short
space, and then she did not touch it again. She tucked the cards under
the door-step, and hurried back to the carriage.
"I knew she wasn't at home," said she, in a whisper, "it is such a lovely
day." She turned to Samson Rawdy, who stood holding open the
coach-door. "Now you may drive to those new people who have moved
into the Ranger place," said she, "Mrs. Carroll's."
Chapter II
There are days in spring wherein advance seems as passive as is the
progress of a log down the race of a spring freshet. Then there are other
days wherein it seems that every mote must feel to the full its sentient
life, and its swelling towards development or fulfilment. On a day like
the latter, everything and everybody bestirs. The dust motes spin in
whirling columns, the gnats dance for their lives their dance of death
before the wayfarer. The gardeners and the grave-diggers turn up the

earth with energy, making the clods fly like water. The rich play, or
work that they may play, as do the poor. Everybody is up and wide
awake and doing. The earth and the habitations thereof are rubbed,
cleaned, and swept, or skylarked over; the boy plays with his marbles
on the sidewalk or whoops over the fields; the housewives fling wide
open their house windows, and the dust of the winter flies out like
smoke; the tradesmen set out their new wares to public view, the bees
make honey, the birds repeat their world-old nesting songs, the cocks
crow straight through the day; nothing stops till the sun sets, and even
then it is hard for such an ardent clock of life to quite run down.
It was that spirit of unrest which had sent the two ladies out making
calls. There was not one where, if the womenkind were at