t of sitting down. As she gazed with bright-eyed interest around the
room, her glance fell on the motto, and she pointed to it and then to
herself.

The cabinet-maker was puzzled. "Is it your motto?" he asked.

She nodded brightly.

Morgan turned to the shelf, took down a large volume of Shakespeare's
plays, and laying it on the table began to turn the pages rapidly.
Rosalind looked over his arm. He ran his finger down a leaf presently and
pointed to the line. "There," he said.

Rosalind turned back a page and pointed to her own name, and then they
both laughed as if it were a great coincidence.

A sharp tap on his arm made Miss Herbert's presence known to Morgan. Miss
Herbert was not of Friendship. She knew the value of time if the
cabinet-maker did not, and had no idea of waiting while he discussed
Shakespeare in pantomime with Rosalind.

Miss Herbert with the aid of the tablet, and Morgan with many queer
gestures to help out his faltering tongue, so long without the guide of
hearing, contrived to despatch the business relating to a claw-footed
sofa. When it was finished, Rosalind was missing, and was discovered in
the little garden, making friends with the black poodle, while the striped
cat looked on from the fence.

It was with evident reluctance she accompanied Miss Herbert to the
carriage. Before she left she took the tablet and wrote, "I am going to
learn to talk on my fingers."

"Good," the cabinet-maker answered, and he followed them to the street,
smiling and nodding. "Come again," he called as they drove away.

When he returned to the shop, the world seemed brighter, the mist of doubt
had lifted.

"The rough places can't last always," he told himself as he sandpapered
the claw toes of the sofa. "We are certain to come to a turn in the lane
after a while. There's good in everything, somewhere."

Perhaps the coming of Mr. Pat's little girl was a good omen. To him at
least it was a most interesting event, nor was he the only person in
Friendship who found it so.

CHAPTER FOURTH.

AN UNQUIET MORNING.

"You amaze me, ladies."

Farther up the street on the other side, but within sight of the
Whittredges', was Mrs. Graham's Boarding and Day School for Young Ladies.

The broad, one story and a half mansion, with rooms enough for a small
hotel, was still known as the Bishop place, although nearly twenty years
had passed since the little brown and white house on Church Street had
opened it