her in words.

"Yes, I have tried, and failed. She does not care to stay."

There was only sadness in his voice; at least, she detected nothing
else. There was none of the bitterness which, while it made Celestia's
heart ache that afternoon, had made her all the more determined to do
what she believed to be right.

"Oh! it's not that," said Graeme, earnestly, "I'm sure she cares. I
mean if she goes, it will be because she thinks it right, not because
she wishes it."

"Is it right to make herself and me unhappy?"

"But her mother and the rest. They are in trouble; it would seem like
forsaking them."

"It need not. They might stay with her."

"I think, perhaps--I don't think--" Graeme hesitated, and then said
hurriedly,--

"Are you rich, Mr Greenleaf?" He laughed.

"I believe you are one of those who do not compute riches by the number
of dollars one possesses. So I think, to you I may safely answer, yes.
I have contentment with little, and on such wealth one pays no taxes."

"Yes; but--I think,--oh, I can't say what I think; but I'm sure Celestia
is right. I am quite sure of that."

Mr Greenleaf did not look displeased, though Graeme feared he might, at
her bold speech.

"I don't believe I had better take you to see her to-morrow. You will
encourage her to hold out against me."

"Not against you. She would never do that. And, besides, it would make
no difference. Celestia is wise and strong, and will do what she
believes to be right."

"Wise and strong," repeated Mr Greenleaf, smiling, but his face grew
grave in a minute again. Mr Elliott made a movement to join them, and
Graeme thought of her neglected tea-kettle, and hastened away.

"Never mind," she whispered, "it will all end well. Things always do
when people do right."

Mr Greenleaf might have some doubt as to the truth of this comforting
declaration in all cases, but he could have none as to the interest and
good wishes of his little friend, so he only smiled in reply. Not that
he had really many serious doubts as to its ending well. He had more
than once that very afternoon grieved Celestia by saying that she did
not care for him; but, if he had ever had any serious trouble on the
subject, they vanished when the first touch of anger and disappointment
had worn away, giving him time to acknowledge and rejoice over the
"strength and wisdom" so unhesitatingly ascribed by Graeme to her
friend. So that it was not at all in a despo