ked me--at least, not in the way you mean. I'm only
terribly sorry."

"Oh, never mind me," said Constance, freezing up into her reserve
again as if she regretted her confidences. "I'll get along all right.
This is one of my off days, when everything looks black."

Miss Channing walked on in silence. She must help Constance, but
Constance was not easily helped. When school reopened, she might be
able to do something worthwhile for the girl, but just now the only
thing to do was to put her in the way of a pleasant vacation.

"You spoke of boarding," she said, when Constance paused at the door
of her boarding-house. "Have you any particular place in view? No?
Well, I know a place which I am sure you would like. I was there two
summers ago. It is a country place about a hundred miles from here.
Pine Valley is its name. It's restful and homey, and the people are so
nice. If you like, I'll give you the address of the family I boarded
with."

"Thank you," said Constance indifferently. "I might as well go there
as anywhere else."

"Yes, but listen to me, dear. Don't take your morbidness with you.
Open your heart to the summer, and let its sunshine in, and when you
come back in the fall, come prepared to let us all be your friends.
We'd like to be, and while friendship doesn't take the place of the
love of one's own people, still it is a good and beautiful thing.
Besides, there are other unhappy people in the world--try to help them
when you meet them, and you'll forget about yourself. Good-by for now,
and I hope you'll have a pleasant vacation in spite of yourself."

Constance went to Pine Valley, but she took her evil spirit with her.
Not even the beauty of the valley, with its great balmy pines, and the
cheerful friendliness of its people could exorcise it.

Nevertheless, she liked the place and found a wholesome pleasure in
the long tramps she took along the piney roads.

"I saw such a pretty spot in my ramble this afternoon," she told her
landlady one evening. "It is about three miles from here at the end of
the valley. Such a picturesque, low-eaved little house, all covered
over with honeysuckle. It was set between a big orchard and an
old-fashioned flower garden with great pines at the back."

"Heartsease Farm," said Mrs. Hewitt promptly. "Bless you, there's only
one place around here of that description. Mr. and Mrs. Bruce, Uncle
Charles and Aunt Flora, as we all call them, live there. They are the
dearest old