y glad to see you, Miss Melody," she said timidly. "I'm glad it
has been a pretty day."

"Show her her room, Ma, and then perhaps she'd like some tea. City
folks, you know, must have their tea."

Geraldine followed her hostess with alacrity as she went up the narrow
stairway; glad there was an upstairs; and a room of her own, and a woman
to speak to.

She was ushered into a barely furnished chamber; a bowl and pitcher on
the small wash-stand seemed to indicate that modern improvements had not
penetrated to the Carder farm.

"I s'pose you'll find country livin' a great change for you," said Mrs.
Carder, pulling up the window shade. Geraldine wondered how in this
beautiful state could have been found such a treeless tract of land. She
remembered the threatened fate of the elm. Perhaps there had been other
destruction. "My son never seemed to take any interest in puttin' in
water here."

The girl met the wrinkled face. The apprehension in the old eyes under
Carder's scowl had given place to curiosity.

"I have come to help you," said Geraldine, "I must get used to fewer
conveniences."

"It's nice of you to say that," said the old woman, "Rufus don't want
you to work much, though."

"But of course I shall," returned the girl quickly. "I'm much better
able to work than you are."

"Oh, I've got a wet sink this year," said Mrs. Carder. "I told Rufus I
just had to have it. I was gettin' too old to haul water."

"I should think so!" exclaimed Geraldine indignantly. "Mr. Carder is
well off. He shouldn't allow you to work any more the rest of your
life."

Mrs. Carder smiled and shook her head, revealing her own need of
dentistry. "I'm stronger than I look. I s'pose if I was taken out of
harness I might be like one o' these horses that drops down when the
shafts don't hold him up any longer."

Geraldine regarded her compassionately. "I've heard--my stepmother told
me it was very hard for you to get help out here. I suppose it is lonely
for maids."

The old woman regarded her strangely, and her withered lips compressed.

"I don't mind loneliness," went on Geraldine eagerly. She had thrown her
hat on the bed and the gold of her hair shone in the mean little room.
"I love to be alone. I long to be."

"That ain't natural," observed Mrs. Carder, regarding her earnest,
self-forgetful loveliness. "Rufus told me you was a beauty," she went on
reflectively. "Your father was the handsomest man I ever saw."

"You knew hi