atient. Mr. Hyden seemed to form an attachment for
the girl from the very beginning.

"You remind me of someone," he remarked during the first few hours of
her service; and afterwards he would listen to Jennie for a whole
evening while she struggled through some reading matter. One evening
he told her about a grandchild of his whom he had lost through being
over-harsh with the mother, and his words impressed Jennie so much that
she retailed them to Mistress McVeigh the very next morning.

"It's no unloike yer own mother's troubles," Nancy observed, critically.

"And will ye tell me of them, Granny?" Jennie asked, eagerly, for it
had often been hinted to her that Nancy McVeigh was not her grandmother.

"It's a burden o' sorrow, dear, and not fit for young ears to listen
to," Nancy replied, evasively. Jennie, however, was not satisfied, and
the next time that Mr. Hyden was in a talkative mood she introduced the
subject to him. He seemed deeply interested, and promised that he
would endeavor to persuade Mistress McVeigh to divulge her secret.
After Mr. Hyden could hobble from his room to other parts of the house,
a photo of Jennie's, taken when she was a very young child, disappeared
from the upstairs parlor, and Nancy suspected at once that her guest
had taken it. She told Jennie to look for it when she was cleaning up
his room, and sure enough, she found it amongst a miscellany of papers
and letters which littered his table. This was enough to rouse Nancy's
ire to a point where an understanding of all grievances up-to-date was
necessary, so she proceeded upstairs, with a sparkle in her eye which
boded ill for the victim of her wrath. He was in his room, writing,
and without waiting for him to finish, as was her custom, she demanded
the lost photo.

"I have it, Mistress McVeigh. I meant to put it back in its place, but
it slipped my memory," he stammered, guiltily; and then he asked her,
frankly, "May I keep it?"

"Kape the swate child's picture, the only wan I have, barrin' her own
silf! Ye have great assurance to ask it!" Nancy exclaimed, though
somewhat mollified at his mild explanation.

"My son married beneath him, and I treated his wife very badly. They
had one child, a girl, and I have often wished since that I could
discover her whereabouts. I have a sort of guilty feeling that I was
not exactly honorable in my dealings with my daughter-in-law, and it
has so preyed on my mind that I think every s