a man without a neat little woman about to tidy things up a bit
and make it cheerful."

How good it seemed to Jessie to have some one speak so kindly to her! He
was plain and homely, and coarse of speech, but he was the only being in
the whole wide world who really cared for her and offered her a shelter
in this her hour of need. But how desolate the place was, with its
little old-fashioned, low-ceiling kitchen, the huge fire-place on one
side, the cupboard on the other, whose chintz curtains were drawn back,
revealing the rows of cups and saucers and pile of plates of blue china,
more cracked and nicked than ever, and the pine table, with its
oil-cloth cover, and the old rag mat in the center of the floor!

The girl's heart sank as she looked around.

Could she make this place her home again? Its very atmosphere, redolent
with tobacco smoke and the strong odor of vegetables, took her breath
away.

Ah! it was very hard for this girl, whose only fortune was a dower of
poverty, and who had had a slight taste of wealth and refinement, to
come back to the old life again and fall into the drudgery of other
days.

She could not refuse her uncle when he pleaded to know where she went
and where she had been since the night he had driven her, in his mad
frenzy, out into the world.

He listened in wonder. The girl's story almost seemed like a fairy tale
to him. But as he listened to the ending of it--surely the saddest story
that ever was told by girlish lips--of how she had left the Varrick
mansion, and of what Mrs. Varrick had accused her of doing, his rage
knew no bounds.

"You might have known how it would all turn out!" he cried. "A poor
little field wren has no business in the gilded nest of the golden
eagle! You are at home again, little one. Think no more of those
people!"

How little he realized that this was easier said than done. Where one's
heart is, there one's thoughts are also.

The neighbors flocked in to see her. Every one was glad to have pretty,
saucy Jessie Bain back once more. But there was much mystery and silent
speculation as to where she had been.

The girls of the neighborhood seemed to act shy of her. Even her old
companions nodded very stiffly when they met her, and walked on the
other side of the street when they saw her coming.

The antagonism of the village girls was never so apparent until the
usual festivities of the autumn evenings approached.

It was the custom of the village mai