in the
clear-starched fresh calico dresses she wore.

Mrs. Carringford was drawing large loaves of golden-brown bread from
the oven as Alexina came in by way of the kitchen door. The smell of
it was good.

"Wait a moment, Alexina," she said, as she rose and turned the loaves
out onto a clean crash towel spread upon the table. "I want a word
with you before you go up-stairs. It's about Emily; you know, I
suppose, that your uncle is coming over right often to see her?--That
big hat looks well on your yellow hair, Alexina--And I'm going to be
plain: it's bad for Emily; she's discontented with things now, she
always has been."

Alexina's eyes dilated. "Coming to see Emily? Does--does Emily want
him to come?"

"Alexina," called Emily down the stairs; "aren't you coming up?"

Alexina went up to the room which Emily shared with her two little
sisters. It was hard on her. There were various attempts to have it as
a girl fancies her room. The airiness of Swiss muslins, however cheap,
the sheen of the colour over which the airiness lies, the fluttering
of ruffled edges--these seem to be expressions of girlhood. But
Emily's little sisters shared the room with her. They were there when
Alexina entered.

"Now go out," Emily told them; "we want to be alone."

The little girls looked up. Miss Alexina was tall and fair and
friendly, she wore lovely dresses, she went to balls, and they adored
her. She felt the flattery and liked it too. "Oh," she interceded,
"no, don't, Emily."

"Yes," said Emily; "we want to talk. Go on, Nan--Nell; don't you
hear?"

The little sisters gathered up books and slates with some show of
resentment; it was their room too. Emily shut the door behind them.

The breadths of a light-hued silk dress were lying about the room.
Emily was ripping on the waist. "It's a dress Miss Harriet gave mother
for a quilt while you were away, but I told her it would be no such
thing if I could devise it otherwise."

She frowned, then threw the waist down. "Not that I don't hate it--the
devising, the scheming."

"I wouldn't do it," said Alexina bluntly.

"Which is easy for you to say," retorted Emily, her eyes sweeping
Alexina from top to toe. Harriet Blair knew how to dress the girl.

"Yes," said Alexina; "I suppose that's true." It was part of her hold
on Emily, her fairness. "But you're welcome to anything of mine; I've
reason somehow to hate 'em all."

The colour heightened on Emily's face and she looked