wash her face and hands and settle her hair and hat. Mrs. Ingraham came bustling after with "arnicky" for the bruised arm. They were all very delighted and important, having the great Mr. Argent

to best education at the public schools, sewing-machines, and universal double-sk

lit, and must be temporarily patched up and banded. There was nothing for Sylvie to do but to sit quietly there in the old-fas

, and, really, it seemed they actually did live, much after the fashion of other people. There were towels on the stand, a worked pincushion on the toilet, white shades and red tassels to the windows, this comfortable easy-chair beside one and a low splint rocker i

she had never exactly imagined how, but of course not as they did in real houses that were not shops. And when Mrs. Ingraham, who had bustled off down-stairs, came shuffling up again as well as she could with both hands full and her petticoats in her way, and appeared bearing a cup of hot tea and a plate of spic

ter your start," said

er spoon, but speech cannot be rubbed up for occasion. Sylvie thought

o much trouble," she exclaimed. "I wo

hour. Don't you be a mite concerned. Jest set here and drink your tea, and rest. Dot, I guess you'd as g

ing,-of which she had already yards rolled up and pinned toge

hes, and screened also a part of the street aspect. Seen from within, and from under these great, green, swaying limbs,-the same here in the village as out in free

behind!" said Sylvie, s

ook at her from he

. "I've got turned round so, sometimes, with people

out to the house-front and the shop-sign again. Ray knew better; she was a good scholar, but she heard her moth

a deep, soft shadow from her temples, her little mouth, neatly dimpled in, and the gypsy glow of her clear, bright skin. Dot was different: she was dark too, not so dark; her eyes were full, brilliant gray, with thick, short lashes; she was round and comfortable: nose, cheeks, chin, neck, waist, hands; her mouth was large, with

hat she could show kindnesses by taking them to drive. Those were such as Aggie Townsend, the navy captain's widow's daughter,-nice, but poor; girls whom everybody noticed, of course, but who hadn't it in their power to notice anybody. That made such a difference! These were otherer yet! And for

having any very fresh, instant spiritual life, I am afraid, out of which to feed her child, chose for her in dim remembrance of what had been thought good for herself when she was little,-that she "didn't know exact

's room when she was "doing herself up" of an afternoon, and look over her cheap little treasures in her band-box

or three things, and to 'clean yourself u

bly compatible with the alternations of importance in being driven about in her father's ba

angle, rose up the red brick wall of the bakehouse, whence came a warm, sweet smell of many new-drawn loaves,-looking around within, at the snug tidiness of the simple room, and even out at the street close by, with its stir and

some one out

he seemed to think was all to herself, crept about her mouth and lingered at the dimpled corners. There was an expressio

ut which brown curls lay damp with heat. Sylvie did not believe he had even touched his hat, when he had looked up through the friendly elm boughs and bowed to the village girl in her shady corner. His hands were full, of course. Such people's hands were almost always full. That was the reason

t she came to the bottom of her cup of tea. And then she caught

aid, getting up. "I am ever so much obliged, Miss Ingraham. I wonder"

raham l

th a bright look. She knew well

ver be any more "getting in behind" for them, as

en stopped below at the river; he had found a stable and a saddle, had left Red Squirrel and the broken vehicle to be sent for, and was going

tainty of Sylvie's welfare, handed her into her ph?ton, and then, spr

uilt some five years since, when Sylvie, with Rod Sherrett beside her, came driving up the long avenue, or, as Mrs. Argenter liked to call it, out of the Eng

and stood up in the low carriage, nodding at her mother. She felt quite brave and confident about the accident, now tha

ed his hat

t Ingraham's Corner,-a quick turn, you know,-and Miss Argenter had just stopped when Squirrel sprang round upon her. My trap is pretty much into kindlings, but there are no bones broken. You must let me send Rodgers round on his way

le of it, except the very minute of the tip-out

to go home all alone. I wish you'd come and tell the t