er about all others. It was a theory of hers that food and
clothes were more important to happiness than most of the subtleties
poets and philosophers write about. "Homesickness is very often hunger,
and _Weltschmerz_ can frequently be cured by a becoming frock, or
brought on by an ill-fitting one," she meditated, as she fastened the
pink and lace for Frieda.

Downstairs Hannah was busily setting forth upon a round table an
appetizing array of cakes and cookies with a copper pot of coffee. Mr.
Eldred had arranged to be present at this unwonted function, and Hannah
chattered to him as she worked.

"Be sure you shake hands with her often, Daddy dear," she admonished
him. "She is used to so very many hand-shakings a day, you know, and we
mustn't cut her down to none at all, the very first thing. It's little
matters like that that make you homesick. And homesickness is agony,
Father. I know, for I've been through it."

Mr. Eldred pinched the plump cheek which showed no trace of past
anguish, and Hannah seated herself upon his knee, being watchful of the
pleats of her skirt as she did so!

"There's one good thing," she philosophized. "She can't miss her father
as I should miss you, for he is so absent-minded that he really doesn't
know her from the furniture. For all she is such a mischief inside, she
acts so quiet-like and well-behaved around the house that she might
almost as well be a sofa and done with it. And they have plenty of
sofas, so he won't miss her and she won't miss him so very much,
either."

"You imply that if you were better behaved, you would not miss me so
much when we are separated! It's sufficiently complicated. I suppose you
pine for my fearful reprimands?"

That was such a delightful joke that they both laughed aloud and Mrs.
Eldred and Frieda were quite in the room before they realized it, and
sprang up to greet them with cordiality, if not with the ceremony Hannah
had planned for.

Those first days Frieda lived in a busy whirl. Hannah, once at home, and
recovered from the excitement of the day in Boston, was ashamed of her
conduct on that occasion, and tried to make up for it by all sorts of
thoughtful attentions to Frieda, which, with the shade of formality they
involved, added a little to the loneliness they were meant to combat.
Mrs. Eldred, giving up, or suspending for a time, the apparently
hopeless task of winning Frieda's confidence, attended to her wardrobe
with a rapidity and fervor