lp being worse by and
by. Well, one can't live people's lives for them." And he turned
back to his other papers,--his notes of yesterday's debate in the
House.

* * * * *

Early in June, there came lovely days.

Sylvie was very busy. She had kept her two girls with her to the
end, by dint of raising their wages a dollar a week each, for the
remainder of their stay. She had the whole house to go over; even a
year's accumulation is formidable, when one has to turn out and
dispose of everything anew. She began with the attic; the trunks and
the boxes. She had to give away a great deal that would have been of
service had they continued to live quietly on. Two old proverbs
asserted themselves to her experience now, and kept saying
themselves over to her as she worked: "A rolling stone gathers no
moss;" "Three removes are as bad as a fire."

She had come down in her progress as far as the closets of their own
rooms, and the overlooking of their own clothing, when one
afternoon, as, still in her wrapper, she was busy at the topmost
shelves of her mother's wardrobe, with little fear of any but
village calls, and scarcely those, wheels came up the Turn, and
names were suddenly announced.

"Miss Harkbird and Mr. Shoot!"

Sylvie caught in a flash the idea of what the girl ought to have
said. She laughed, she turned red, and the tears very nearly sprang
to her eyes, with surprise, amusement, embarrassment and flurry.

"What _shall_ I do? Give me your hand, Katy! And where on earth _is_
my other dress? Can't you learn to get names right ever, Katy? Miss
Kirkbright and Mr. Sherrett. Say I will be down presently. O, what
hair!"

She was before the glass now; she caught up stray locks and thrust
in hairpins here and there; then she tied a little violet-edged
black ribbon through the toss and rumple, and somehow it looked all
right. Anyway, her eyes were brilliant; the more brilliant for that
cloudiness beneath which they shone.

Her eyes shone and her lips trembled, as she came into the room and
told Miss Euphrasia how glad she was to see them. For she remembered
then why she was so glad; she remembered the things she had longed
to go to Miss Euphrasia with, all the hard winter and doubtful
spring.

"We are going away, you see," she told her presently. "Mother must
have a change. It does not suit her here in any way. We are going to
Lebanon for a little while; then we shall find some quiet