une's
inaccuracies of speech and in a hundred other ways to which he had
become accustomed. With him, moreover, the process had been gradual and,
moreover, he had seen beneath it all. And yet he had foolishly expected
Helen to understand everything at once. He was unjust, so very wisely he
held himself in silence.

"Where is her baggage, Jack?" Helen had opened her trunk and was lifting
out the lid. "She ought to change those dusty clothes at once. You'd
better ring and have it sent right up."

"No," said Hale, "I will go down and see about it myself."

He returned presently--his face aflame--with June's carpet-bag.

"I believe this is all she has," he said quietly.

In spite of herself Helen's grief changed to a fit of helpless laughter
and, afraid to trust himself further, Hale rose to leave the room. At
the door he was met by the negro maid.

"Miss Helen," she said with an open smile, "Miss June say she don't want
NUTTIN'." Hale gave her a fiery look and hurried out. June was seated
at a window when he went into her room with her face buried in her arms.
She lifted her head, dropped it, and he saw that her eyes were red with
weeping. "Are you sick, little girl?" he asked anxiously. June shook her
head helplessly.

"You aren't homesick, are you?"

"No." The answer came very faintly.

"Don't you like my sister?" The head bowed an emphatic "Yes--yes."

"Then what is the matter?"

"Oh," she said despairingly, between her sobs, "she--won't--like--me. I
never--can--be--like HER."

Hale smiled, but her grief was so sincere that he leaned over her and
with a tender hand soothed her into quiet. Then he went to Helen again
and he found her overhauling dresses.

"I brought along several things of different sizes and I am going to try
at any rate. Oh," she added hastily, "only of course until she can get
some clothes of her own."

"Sure," said Hale, "but--" His sister waved one hand and again Hale kept
still.

June had bathed her eyes and was lying down when Helen entered, and
she made not the slightest objection to anything the latter proposed.
Straightway she fell under as complete subjection to her as she had done
to Hale. Without a moment's hesitation she drew off her rudely fashioned
dress and stood before Helen with the utmost simplicity--her beautiful
arms and throat bare and her hair falling about them with the rich gold
of a cloud at an autumn sunset. Dressed, she could hardly breathe,
but when she l