But she got no further. That guest had a correction to make.

"My name is not Averill," she protested. "You must excuse the
temporary deception. It is Scoville. I once occupied your present
position in this house."

Mrs. Yardley had heard all about the Scovilles; and, while a flush
rose to her cheeks, her eyes snapped with sudden interest.

"Ah!" came in quick exclamation, followed, however, by an
apologetic cough and the somewhat forced and conventional remark:
"You find the place changed, no doubt?"

"Very much so, and for the better, Mrs. Yardley." Then, with a
straightforward meeting of the other's eye calculated to disarm
whatever criticism the situation might evoke, she quietly added,
"You need no longer trouble yourself with serving me my meals in
my room. I will eat dinner in the public dining-room to-day with
the rest of the boarders. I have no further reason for concealing
who I am or what my future intentions are. I am going to live with
Judge Ostrander, Mrs. Yardley;--keep house for him, myself and
daughter. His man is dead and he feels very helpless. I hope that
I shall be able to make him comfortable."

Mrs. Yardley's face was a study. In all her life she had never
heard news that surprised her more. In fact, she was mentally
aghast. Judge Ostrander admitting any one into his home, and this
woman above all! Yet, why not? He, certainly, would have to have
some one. And this woman had always been known as a notable
housekeeper. In another moment, she had accepted the situation,