hining again. "Sure, how
could a blessid infant be a trouble? 'Tis a means of grace they be to the
hear-r-rt--I nade no preacher to tell me that, deary. I found thim so. And
they loved me and was happy wid me," she added, cheerfully.

"The folks below think me a little quare in me head," she confided to her
visitor. "But they don't understand. To walk up and down the nursery
corridor late at night relaves the ache here," and she put her little,
mitted hand upon her heart. "Ye see, I trod that path so often--so
often----"

Her voice trailed off and she fell silent, gazing into the glow of the
fire in the stove. But there was a smile on her lips. The past was no time
to weep over. This cheerful body saw only the bright spots in her long,
long life.

Helen loved to hear her talk. And soon she and Mary Boyle were very well
acquainted. One thing about the old nurse Helen liked immensely. She asked
no questions. She accepted Helen's visit as a matter of course; yet she
showed very plainly that she was glad to have a young face before her.

But the girl from Sunset Ranch did not know how Mrs. Olstrom might view
her making friends with the old lady; so she made her visit brief. But she
promised to come again and bring a book to read to Mary Boyle.

"Radin' is a great accomplishment, deary," declared the old woman. "I
niver seemed able to masther it--although me mistress oft tried to tache
me. But, sure, there was so much to l'arn about babies, that ain't printed
in no book, that I was always radin' them an' niver missed the book
eddication till I come to be old. But th' foine poethry me mistress useter
be radin' me! Sure, 'twould almost put a body to slape, so swate and grand
it was."

So, Helen searched out a book of poems downstairs, and the next forenoon
she ventured into the front suite again, and read ta Mary Boyle for an
hour. The storm lasted several days, and each day the girl from the West
spent more and more time with the little old woman.

But this was all unsuspected by Uncle Starkweather and the three girls. If
Mrs. Olstrom knew she said nothing. At least, she timed her own daily
visits to the little old woman so that she would not meet Helen in the
rooms devoted to old Mary's comfort.

Nor were Helen's visits continued solely because she pitied Mary Boyle.
How could she continue to pity one who did not pity herself?

No. Helen received more than she gave in this strange friendship. Seeking
to amuse the o