“Ed Newton!” cried the ladies all together, clutching one another. Mrs. Watts began to fan herself at once with the letter from Ellisville. She wore widow’s black, and the least thing made her hot.

“Why she is not. She’s going to Ellisville, Ed,” said Mrs. Carson gently. “Mrs. Watts and I and Aimee Slocum are paying her way out of our own pockets. Besides, the boys of Victory are on their honor. Lily’s not going to get married, that’s just an idea she’s got in her head.”

“More power to you, ladies,” said Ed Newton, spanking himself with a tablet.

When they came to the bridge over the railroad tracks, there was Estelle Mabers, sitting on a rail. She was slowly drinking an orange Ne-Hi.

“Have you seen Lily?” they asked her.

“I’m supposed to be out here watching for her now,” said the Mabers girl, as though she weren’t there yet. “But for Jewel—Jewel says Lily come in the store while ago and picked out a two-ninety-eight hat and wore it off. Jewel wants to swap her something else for it.”

“Oh, Estelle, Lily says she’s going to get married!” cried Aimee Slocum.

“Well, I declare,” said Estelle; she never understood anything.

Loralee Adkins came riding by in her Willys-Knight, tooting the horn to find out what they were talking about.

Aimee threw up her hands and ran out into the street “Loralee, Loralee, you got to ride us up to Lily Daws’. She’s up yonder fixing to get married!”

“Hop in, my land!”

“Well, that just goes to show you right now,” said Mrs. Watts, groaning as she was helped into the back seat. “What we’ve got to do is persuade Lily it will be nicer to go to Ellisville.”

“Just to think!”

While they rode around the corner Mrs. Carson was going on in her sad voice, sad as the soft noises in the hen house at twilight. “We buried Lily’s poor defenseless mother. We gave Lily all her food and kindling and every stitch she had on. Sent her to Sunday school to learn the Lord’s teachings, had her baptized a Baptist. And when her old father commenced beating her and tried to cut her head off with the butcher knife, why, we went and took her away from him and gave her a place to stay.”

The paintless frame house with all the weather vanes was three stories high in places and had yellow and violet stained-glass windows in front and gingerbread around the porch. It leaned steeply to one side, toward the railroad, and the front steps were gone. The car full of ladies drew up under the cedar tree.

“Now Lily’s almost grown up,” Mrs. Carson continued. “In fact, she’s grown,” she concluded, getting out.

“Talking about getting married,” said Mrs. Watts disgustedly. “Thanks, Loralee, you run on home.”