Still we did feel a little nervous about it; there is never any estimating the influence of a reformer.  However, we were sure of ourselves.  Louisa and I agreed that we never would be seen out in any such costume.  Not very many in the village were.  There were a few women, who were under the influence of Mrs. Jameson, who did cut off some of their old dresses and make themselves some leggings with hers for a pattern.  After their housework was done they started off for long tramps with strides of independence and defiance, but they did not keep it up very long; none of them after Mrs. Jameson went away.  To tell the truth, most of the women in our village had so much work to do, since they kept no servants, that they could not take many ten-mile walks, no matter what length skirts they wore.  However, many wore the short ones while doing housework, which was very sensible.

During that morning call, Mrs. Jameson, besides the reformed costume, advocated another innovation which fairly took our breaths away.  She was going to beautify the village.  We had always considered the village beautiful as it was, and we bridled a little at that.

“There is scarcely a house in this village which is overgrown with vines,” said she.  “I am going to introduce vines.”

Louisa ventured to say that she thought vines very pretty, but she knew some people objected to them on the score of spiders, and also thought that they were bad for the paint.  We poor, frugal village folk have always to consider whether beauty will trespass on utility, and consequently dollars and cents.  There are many innocent slaves to Mammon in our midst.

Mrs. Jameson sniffed in her intensely scornful way.  “Spiders and paint!” said she.  “I am going to have the houses of this village vine-clad.  It is time that the people were educated in beauty.”

“People won’t like it if she does go to planting vines around their houses without their permission, even if she does mean well,” said Louisa after she had gone.

“She never will dare to without their permission,” said I; but I wondered while I spoke, and Louisa laughed.

“Don’t you be too sure of that,” said she—­and she was right.

Permission in a few cases Mrs. Jameson asked, and in the rest she assumed.  Old Jonas Martin ransacked the woods for vines—­clematis and woodbine—­then he, with Mrs. Jameson to superintend, set them out around our village houses.  The calm insolence of benevolence with which Mrs. Jameson did this was inimitable.  People actually did not know whether to be furious or amused at this liberty taken with their property.  They saw with wonder Mrs. Jameson, with old Jonas following laden with vines and shovel, also the girls and Cobb, who had been pressed, however unwillingly, into service, tagging behind trailing with woodbine and clematis; they stood by and saw their house-banks dug up and the vines set, and in most cases said never a word.  If they did expostulate, Mrs. Jameson only directed Jonas where to put the next vine, and assured the bewildered owner of the premises that he would in time thank her.