ew
immediately alert and full of eager questions. Elizabeth had very
little to tell. She wisely kept her own impressions of the young man
to herself, but she dwelt upon the glowing report of Dr. Bagsley both
John and Charles Stuart had given, not forgetting to add that he had
greatly helped the latter in his philanthropic work.

"Jean has really done very well, then," Miss Gordon said, her face
suffused with a pleased flush. "I really did not look to her for a
good match. But Jean will always be a success, no matter in what
sphere she is placed."

Elizabeth was silent. She could not picture Jean as a great success at
cooking the bone-man's dinner, though perhaps he never ate anything.
Mary was coming up the garden path from the lane, and as she looked at
her she wondered why girls always seemed to be trained for some other
life than that which fate brought them. She herself should have been a
nurse, and so prepared to care for Eppie, and to do that work upon
which she had now determined. Mary was perfectly fitted for a
home-maker, and the chances of Mary's marrying were very small, and
Jean was a mathematical machine and knew no more about housekeeping
than Dr. Bagsley himself might be expected to know. It was such a
puzzling world--especially for girls.

"Two letters for you, Lizzie," Mary cried. "Jamie's been to the
post-office. One's a gentleman's handwriting, I can tell," she added,
teasingly, "and the other's from Mrs. Jarvis. I know her writing."

Elizabeth took the letters tremblingly. She recognized Mr. Huntley's
hand on the first, and the second was indeed from Mrs. Jarvis. She was
painfully conscious that her aunt was watching her keenly as she opened
the latter. The contents were even more of a surprise. It began, as
Mrs. Jarvis's letters invariably did, with an account of her
sufferings. Such prostrating headaches she had endured. Dr. Ralston
had declared she was on the verge of a nervous collapse, and must leave
the city as soon as she was able to travel. She did not wish to
reproach Beth, but there could be no doubt as to the cause. It had
been so all her life. Those to whom she had given most, for whom she
had made the greatest sacrifices, were always the ones who turned
against her. First her husband, then her niece and Madeline, and
lastly Both, whom she had believed really loved her. But--and here
Elizabeth received her surprise--she was ready to forgive. It was her
way--her