ir. I was startled. To have
you fall ill after a week with us would be distressing."

"It has been such a dear week!" sighed Alice. "And I've rested all the
time and have loved being with the girls. No, I'm quite well. But I had
a letter from Mrs. Langdon, at Dexter, you know, just before I left
home, and she told me I might tell you, if I cared to, what she has
never let me tell any one outside the family,--that is, that I am one of
the girls she is helping through college. I'm glad she said I might, for
I've often wished Catherine knew, and it will be next best if you do."

"It is a rather trying condition of Mrs. Langdon's," said Dr. Helen
sympathetically, "and sometimes creates difficult situations for the
girls concerned, but I long ago gave up hope that she would ever change
her ways. I quite understand how you feel, because, during my last two
years at Dexter, I was one of her girls, too."

"You?" Alice's tone expressed the deepest surprise, and Dr. Helen
continued.

"My father could not afford to send me, and I earned the money for my
first two years, and was struggling along, trying to spend several hours
a day earning money and at the same time to keep up with my work, when
Mrs. Langdon, who was staying at home that winter, heard about me from
friends. She helped me finish my college course, and gave me substantial
aid in taking my professional course. I repaid the money afterward, but
I couldn't repay the kindness."

"She is wonderfully kind," said Alice, "though her queer ways make you
forget it sometimes. I had had letters from her before I left home the
first year, of course, about the business part, and I went on, feeling
that I wasn't going entirely among strangers, but she paid no attention
to me at all. It was only by chance that I met her in the spring through
Hannah."

"Poor child! You must have been much disappointed and very lonely at
first. But she is a friend worth having, in spite of her peculiarities.
I am glad she let you share your secret with me. Did she say anything
about her own health when she wrote? I almost never hear from her."

"Not a word. But she asked me to call on her old friend, Madam
Kittredge, while I was here."

"She is our pastor's mother, a beautiful woman, and nearly blind. You
must certainly call. Catherine always makes the rounds of the old ladies
among our patients once a summer, and she loves to go to Madam
Kittredge's. She must take you. I wonder--What is that