imrose Maryland, Miss Kennedy.'

A primrose she evidently was, sweet and good and fresh like
one, with something of a flower's gravity, too. That could be
seen at a glance; also that she was rather a little person,
though full and plump in figure, and hardly pretty, at least
in contrast with her brilliant neighbour. Wych Hazel's first
words were of unbounded surprise.

'From what possible part of the clouds did you fall, Mr.
Rollo!'--then with a blush and a look of apology to Miss
Maryland, 'I ought to excuse myself; I didn't know where I was
coming. And my horse quite refused to stand upon more than two
feet at once, I found the storm uncomfortable--and so jumped
off and ran in. It's the fault of your door for being open,
Miss Maryland!'

'I am very glad,' said Primrose simply. 'The door stood open
because it was so hot. We were going to see you this afternoon
but the storm hindered us. Now, will you come up-stairs and
get on something dry?'

CHAPTER XII.

AT DR. MARYLAND'S.

They went up a low staircase and along a gallery to Primrose's
room. Large and low, as nice as wax, and as plain. How unlike
any room at Chickaree, Wych Hazel could not help feeling,
while its little mistress was opening cupboards and drawers,
and getting out the neatest and whitest of cambric jackets and
ruffles and petticoats, and bringing forth all accommodations
of combs and brushes. Meanwhile Wych Hazel could not help
seeing some of the tokens about the place that told what kind
of life was lived there. Its spotlessly neat and orderly
condition was one token; but there were signs of business.
Work-baskets, with what seemed fulness of work, were about the
room; books, not in great numbers, but lying in little
business piles, with business covers and the marks of use.
Papers were on one table by the window, with pen and ink and
pencil and cards. And everywhere a simplicity that showed no
atom of needless expenditure. Very unlike Chickaree?

Primrose the while was neat-handedly helping to array her
guest in fresh apparel. She had pretty little hands, and they
were quick and skilful; and as she stooped to try on a slipper
or manage a fastening, Wych Hazel had a view of a beautiful
head of fair brown hair, in quiet arrangement that did not
show all its beauty; and when from time to time the eyes were
lifted, she saw that they were very good eyes; as reposeful as
a mountain tarn, and as deep too, where lay thought shadows as
well