was not disappointed in the fulfilment of her hopes. Gradually it
became a natural thing for a slow and timid girl to turn to Joan Lowrie
for help.

As for Joan's own progress, it was not long before Miss Barholm began to
regard the girl with a new wonder. She was absolutely amazed to find
out how much she was learning, and how much she had learned, working
on silently and by herself. She applied herself to her tasks with a
determination which seemed at times almost feverish.

"I mun learn," she said to Anice once. "I _will_," and she closed her
hand with a sudden nervous strength.

Then again there were times when her courage seemed to fail her, though
she never slackened her efforts.

"Dost tha think," she said, "dost tha think as I could ivver learn as
much as tha knows thysen? Does tha think a workin' lass ivver did learn
as much as a lady?"

"I think," said Anice, "that _you_ can do anything you try to do."

By very slow degrees she had arrived at a discovery which a less close
observer might have missed altogether, or at least only arrived at much
later in the day of experience. Anice's thoughts were moved in this
direction the night that Derrick slipped into that half soliloquy about
Joan. She might well be startled. This man and woman could scarcely have
been placed at a greater distance from each other, and yet those half
dozen words of Fergus Derrick's had suggested to his hearer that each,
through some undefined attraction, was veering toward the other. Neither
might be aware of this; but it was surely true. Little as social creeds
influenced Anice, she could not close her eyes to the incongruous--the
unpleasant features of this strange situation. And, besides, there was a
more intimate and personal consideration. Her own feeling toward Fergus
Derrick was friendship at first, and then she had suddenly awakened
and found it something more. That had startled her, too, but it had
not alarmed her till her eyes were opened by that accidental speech
of Derrick's. After that, she saw what both Derrick and Joan were
themselves blind to.

Setting her own pain aside, she stood apart, and pitied both. As for
herself, she was glad that she had made the discovery before it was too
late. She knew that there might have been a time when it would have been
too late. As it was, she drew back,--with a pang, to be sure; but still
she could draw back.

"I have made a mistake," she said to herself in secret; but it did n