st letters, so long waited for,
arrived from Honolulu, giving such glowing accounts of the voyage and
the climate, and written in such evident good spirits, and so full of
love for the two left behind, that they had to be read at least once a
day for a week.

CHAPTER TENTH.

THE PORTRAIT AGAIN.

Frances wished very much to go to school, but for several reasons her
mother did not think it wise, so she studied at home every morning,
going upstairs at twelve o'clock to Miss Sherwin for a drawing lesson.

Emma thought this a delightful arrangement, but Frances looked with envy
upon the children who passed, swinging their school bags. "It is because
I wasn't strong last winter and mother thinks it wouldn't be good for me
to be shut up in a schoolroom, but I shall go next year," she explained.

As the fall weather was beautiful they spent a great deal of time out of
doors, and when Mrs. Morrison did not care to go herself she would send
Frances with Zenobia for a walk or a ride on the cars, to the delight of
the latter, who adored her young charge.

These two were returning from a long walk one cold day, when they met
Emma Bond, who said she was going to Mrs. Marvin's with some work, and
asked them to go back with her.

"I don't know whether mother would like me to; do you think she would
care, Zenobia?" Frances asked.

It was only a short distance, and Zenobia couldn't see any harm in
stopping a moment; so they went in with Emma and sat in the hall while
she ran upstairs to speak to the housekeeper.

Everything was in perfect order to-day, and Frances gave a little sigh
of satisfaction as she looked about her; it was all so warm and
beautiful, with a stately sort of beauty that was very impressive. She
sat as still as a mouse, listening to the ticking of some unseen clock.

Emma stayed a long time, and presently Frances whispered, "Zenobia,
there is a picture I want to see, and I am just going to peep in that
door; I'll be back in a minute;" and she stole softly across the hall as
if afraid she might break the stillness.

The room she entered was a library, spacious and beautiful; but Frances
thought of nothing but the portrait, which in the softened light that
came from the curtained windows was more charming than ever.

[Illustration: "'Little girl, I wish I knew you'"]

"Little girl, I wish I knew you," she said half aloud, standing before
it, her eyes bright from her walk in the keen air, her cheek