the parlour, was so decorous and proper and Stirlingish that her family took heart of grace. This was not — could not be — the girl who had sat all night in the woods with Barney Snaith — who had gone tearing bareheaded through Deerwood and Port Lawrence. This was the Valancy they knew. Really, surprisingly capable and efficient. Perhaps she had always been kept down a bit too much — Amelia really was rather strict — hadn’t had a chance to show what was in her. So thought the Stirlings. And Edward Beck, from the Port road, a widower with a large family who was beginning to take notice, took notice of Valancy and thought she might make a mighty fine second wife. No beauty — but a fifty-year-old widower, Mr. Beck told himself very reasonably, couldn’t expect everything. Altogether, it seemed that Valancy’s