ot come down. He
says he has a headache. Where is Yanna?" asked Rose.

"She was compelled to go home without delay," answered Mrs. Filmer.
"She seemed afraid of her father--perhaps she has his dinner to
cook."

"Oh, no! Betta does all that kind of work. I think Yanna was
disappointed about the ball. It is too absurd of Mr. Van Hoosen!"

"I imagine the ball will proceed without Miss Van Hoosen. Indeed, I am
rather glad we are going to the city soon, for life without the Van
Hoosen flavor will be a pleasant change."

"I am sure, mamma, the Van Hoosen flavor has been a great help to us
all summer."

"Well! The summer is now over."

"And Yanna is----"

"Oh, Yanna is everything charming! So is Antony! And even Mr. Peter
Van Hoosen is picturesquely primitive. But the subject tires me
to-day. Take your bouillon, Rose, and then try and secure a sleep."
Mrs. Filmer was turning the salad, with a face of great annoyance,
and Rose felt that the conversation was closed.

In the meantime, Yanna drove slowly homeward. Her life seemed to be
crumbling inwardly. She lingered in the empty wood thinking of Harry,
and of the trial which had tested and found him wanting; suffering
over again his pettish anger in their parting, and feeling Mrs.
Filmer's polite scorn to be the last bitter drop in a cup full of
bitterness. She was grateful for the quiet of nature, and not afraid
to weep before her. She thought her sorrow to be as great as she could
bear; for she was not old enough to know that there are griefs too
great to find tears for.

Soon, however, she began to feel after that sure and perfect Love that
never deceives and never disappoints, to utter those little prayers of
two or three words which spring from the soul direct to God, and
always come back with comfort and healing on their wings. She wept and
prayed until her heart was like a holy well, running over with the
waters of hope and consolation. Her love melted into her intelligence,
and her intelligence became love; and this tempering influence and
balancing power, gave her strength to keep the expression of her
feelings shut up in a granite calm.

And when her father stepped out to meet her, when her eyes caught the
pitying love in his eyes, and she went hand in hand with him into the
pretty room, where the fire was blazing a welcome, and Betta, with
smiles and excuses, was bringing in the dinner; she felt that her own
home had plenty of those compensating joys of