omfortably on the ground beside her
and began to talk. How it came about neither of them knew, but all at
once Malcolm fell to speaking of his father, and of his lonely boyhood,
and by-and-bye, Elizabeth grew so interested that she laid down her
work, and propping her chin on her hand, gave him her undivided
attention.

Malcolm was very unreserved about his mother. "She is perfectly
unique," he said; "a grand worker, with brains and energy that, if she
had been a man, would have qualified her for a legislator. She has a
gift for organisation. Oh, you would admire her immensely. You are a
worker yourself, Miss Templeton, and that would be a bond of union."

"Would it?" she returned quietly. "I am not quite so sure of that. I
think your mother would rather look down on my small efforts. Please do
not call me a worker, Mr. Herrick. I potter about the village two days
in the week, and teach the children needlework, and tell them stories,
and read to a bedridden old woman or two, but I am afraid on the whole
I waste my time dreadfully," and here she looked at him with one of her
beaming smiles. "I do so enjoy my life, especially in summer--the world
is so beautiful, and one has the birds and flowers, and it is just
lovely to wake to another new day."

"I wish Anna could hear you," he returned; and as she looked a little
puzzled at this, he explained that his mother had an adopted
daughter--a dear, lovable girl, whom he regarded as a sister. And when
he said this. Elizabeth's bright eyes glanced at him a little keenly.

"She is your adopted sister," she said dubiously; "is that not rather a
difficult relationship, Mr. Herrick?"

"Not at all," he returned quickly, for somehow this, remark did not
quite please him. "Anna was so young when she came to us, I think
sometimes that she quite forgets that she is not really my mother's
daughter."

"She must be a great comfort to Mrs. Herrick," observed Elizabeth,
"especially as you are not always with her." There was nothing in this
speech to offend Malcolm's amour propre, nevertheless a dull flush
mounted to his brow.

"Of course I should not have left my mother alone," he said so stiffly
that Elizabeth opened her eyes rather widely; but her keen woman's wits
soon grasped the situation.

"My dear Mr. Herrick, you must not misunderstand me," she said quite
gently. "I am quite sure that you are backward in no filial duty. To
tell you the truth," colouring a little, "I hardly