me;--and my tears fell hot and fast upon my pillow. Then came my old
sullenness. Why was she any better than I? Her brother thought me worth
talking to; could she not find me worthy of at least a kind look?
Perhaps she knew more than I did of books; but what of that? She had not
half the useful knowledge wherewith to make her way here in the woods.
And what right had she to bring her haughty looks and proud ways here
among our people? My sullenness gave way before my bitter disappointment
and my offended pride. I was only a child of sixteen, sensitive and
distrustful of myself, and her cold looks and colder words had keenly
wounded me.

A week passed, in which I gave myself most earnestly to the household
tasks, going through them with dogged pertinacity, and accomplishing an
amount of work which made my step-mother declare that Janet was coming
back to her senses after all. It was only my effort to forget my
disappointment.

On the Saturday evening when I sat tired out with my exertions, Mr.
Hammond came up the path. How my heart leaped at seeing him! How good he
was to come! His sister had not taught him to despise me. But when he
asked me to come over, the next day, and see what he had done to his
house and garden, the demon of sullen pride took possession of me again.
I would not go. I had too much to do; my mother would want me to get
the dinner. In short, I could not go. He bore it good-naturedly, though
I think he understood it, and, leaving with me a package of books which
he had promised me, said he must go, as Esther would be waiting tea for
him.

Many another endeavor did George Hammond make to bring his sister and
myself together, but the first impression had been too strong for me,
and Miss Hammond made no effort to remove it. I do not believe it ever
crossed her mind to try to do so. Little was it to her whether or no she
made herself pleasant to a stupid, ugly girl. She had her books, her
light household cares, her letter-writing, her gardening, her walks and
drives with her brother, and she felt and showed little interest in
anything else. Very unpopular she was among the people around her, who
contrasted her cold reserve with her brother's frank cordiality; but she
troubled herself not at all about her unpopularity. For me, I kept shyly
out of her way, and fell back into my old habits.

I had not lost my friend, Mr. Hammond. He did not read with me regularly
as before, but he kept me supplied with