. Don't you know me?" she asked in a smooth, low voice,
looking in at us archly.

Antonia gasped and stepped back. "Why, it's Lena! Of course I did n't know
you, so dressed up!"

Lena Lingard laughed, as if this pleased her. I had not recognized her for
a moment, either. I had never seen her before with a hat on her head--or
with shoes and stockings on her feet, for that matter. And here she was,
brushed and smoothed and dressed like a town girl, smiling at us with
perfect composure.

"Hello, Jim," she said carelessly as she walked into the kitchen and
looked about her. "I've come to town to work, too, Tony."

"Have you, now? Well, ain't that funny!" Antonia stood ill at ease, and
did n't seem to know just what to do with her visitor.

The door was open into the dining-room, where Mrs. Harling sat crocheting
and Frances was reading. Frances asked Lena to come in and join them.

"You are Lena Lingard, are n't you? I've been to see your mother, but you
were off herding cattle that day. Mama, this is Chris Lingard's oldest
girl."

Mrs. Harling dropped her worsted and examined the visitor with quick, keen
eyes. Lena was not at all disconcerted. She sat down in the chair Frances
pointed out, carefully arranging her pocketbook and gray cotton gloves on
her lap. We followed with our popcorn, but Antonia hung back--said she had
to get her cake into the oven.

"So you have come to town," said Mrs. Harling, her eyes still fixed on
Lena. "Where are you working?"

"For Mrs. Thomas, the dressmaker. She is going to teach me to sew. She
says I have quite a knack. I'm through with the farm. There ain't any end
to the work on a farm, and always so much trouble happens. I'm going to be
a dressmaker."

"Well, there have to be dressmakers. It's a good trade. But I would n't
run down the farm, if I were you," said Mrs. Harling rather severely. "How
is your mother?"

"Oh, mother's never very well; she has too much to do. She'd get away from
the farm, too, if she could. She was willing for me to come. After I learn
to do sewing, I can make money and help her."

"See that you don't forget to," said Mrs. Harling skeptically, as she took
up her crocheting again and sent the hook in and out with nimble fingers.

"No, 'm, I won't," said Lena blandly. She took a few grains of the popcorn
we pressed upon her, eating them discreetly and taking care not to get her
fingers sticky.

Frances drew her chair up nearer to the visitor. "I th