of some of her girlish experiences that actually brought an amused
twinkle to her sharp old eyes. Lloyd was vastly entertained. She had,
too, a virtuous feeling that in keeping her promise she had given
pleasure to one who rarely met kindness. It gave her a warm inward glow
of satisfaction.

To her mortification, when she finally drew the pie from the oven, the
meringue, which had been like a snowdrift a moment before, and which
should have come out with just a golden glow on it from its short
contact with the heat, was all shrivelled and brown.

"The nasty little oven was too hot!" cried Lloyd, in disgust.

"Just my luck," whined Mrs. Perkins. "I might have known that I'd never
get anything I set my heart on. But you can scrape off the meringue, and
I'll try and make out with the plain pie."

Although she ate generously, she ate grumblingly, disappointed because
of the scorched meringue, and it wasn't as sweet as she liked.

That night, Lloyd, mortified over her failure, stood long with the white
rosary in her hand. "Maybe I ought to count the poah pie as I would an
imperfect lesson," she thought, hesitating, with a bead in her fingers.
Then she said, defiantly: "But I did my best, and the day has certainly
been disagreeable enough to deserve two pearls."

After another moment of conscientious weighing of the matter, she
slipped the bead slowly down the string. "There!" she exclaimed. "I
suahly went through the black watahs of Kilgore to get that one."

Next day when she stopped in Rollington to pay for the coffee-pot, and
drove by the Crisps' to ask about the baby, Minnie Crisp told her
several things. Mrs. Perkins was sick all night, and had told her ma
that it was the lemon pie that was the cause of the trouble; that it
would have made a dog sick. "Them was her words," said Minnie,
solemnly.

"I don't wondah!" cried Lloyd. "The greedy old thing! There was enough
for foah people, and it was very rich, and she ate it all."

"And she didn't like it because you had May Lily scrub and clean while
she was gone," added Minnie, with childlike lack of tact. "She talked
about you dreadful after you went away. Didn't she, ma?"

"Shoo, Minnie!" answered Mrs. Crisp, with a wave of her apron. "Don't
tell all you know."

"I didn't," answered the child. "I didn't say a word about the names she
called her,--meddlesome Matty, and all that."

Lloyd took her leave presently, with a flushed face and a sore heart. On
the w