Rilla’s question of what they were going to do next confronted him and fell heavily on his heart. He had forgotten that there would be other and perhaps worse problems after the house was disposed of. And what of all his friendships and his college and Barbara and the future in general?

Thurlow awoke from a troubled sleep early in the morning, and all the world looked dark to him again. He was afraid that his hopes of selling the house to Mrs. Steele’s club were going to be dashed. Somebody would be sure to rise up and object, or there would be delay in some way.

He drank strong coffee for breakfast and wouldn’t eat the tempting things his mother had prepared. He was nervous and excitable. Rilla watched him warily.

“You’re not so complacent yourself this morning,” she mocked her brother as she came upon him staring out the window.

He forced a smile and turned upon her.

“I was just thinking that I’d better go out and cut the lawn before we have that visit from the townspeople,” he announced with elaborate cheerfulness and hurried out to get the lawn mower.

But even so the hours dragged slowly by.

Then at last they came, staring critically at the house and grounds as they surged up the front walk.

Rilla fled to the attic and wept her heart out into an old haircloth trunk where she was pleased to think she was packing away garments. But she did not escape the interlopers even there.

Mrs. Reed was the gracious hostess but wondering all the while why it seemed such a terrible thing to her to have strangers going about her beloved house, peering into every cranny and corner and bringing out infinitesimal flaws.

It was Thurlow who answered the questions, going around with the men of the party, of whom there were three—Mr. Stanwood the donor and two husbands of the club committee. He was grave and courteous and seemed to be much older than he really was.

Rilla, escaping from her attic just in time before an influx of women mounted to the top of the house, watched her brother with wonder. Thurlow was growing to be a man. She was proud of him as he stood there in the doorway talking to Mr. Stanwood. Oh, to think he had to leave his home and give up his college studies and go into some miserable little minor job, just be an underling all his life, instead of turning out to be the splendid businessman his father had hoped and planned for.

There was no question about whether they liked the house. They stood in admiring groups and exclaimed and whispered and exclaimed some more. Mr. Stanwood lingered, talking a long time with Thurlow. Then they all went away. But Mr. Stanwood came back within the hour, bringing his lawyer, whom Mr. Reed also had known and trusted, and before three o’clock the money was paid to the building association, satisfying all claims, and the deed was handed over to the new owners.

Thurlow came back to his mother and sister triumphant.

“You ought to have been there, Mother. It was a thrill! Our lawyer went with me to make the settlement, and you ought to have seen those foxy men cringe when they saw who was with me. Mr. Stanwood came along. He said he wanted to see the thing through. And the questions he asked them! You should have seen how hard they had to backpedal to get around some of the things they had done. They finally ended up by charging it all on a secretary who had been fired because she got letters mixed and took too much upon herself. They said she had written the letter, and when Mr.