l, but received her cordially,
ordered the trunk brought in, and herself attended to the beating down
of the station-keeper's boy to a proper price for his services. She
remarked upon his audacity and plainly criminal tendencies; she
thoroughly sifted the physical qualities of the horse; she objected to
the shape of the wagon; and finally, she had noted his manner of
bringing in the trunk, and shaving its edges as well as her doorway, and
she felt that she must go over to the station herself early in the
morning, and lodge a complaint against him. What did he mean by--But
here the boy succumbed, and departed with half-price, and Jeanne-Armande
took breath, and closed the door in triumph.

"You see that I have come back to you, mademoiselle," said Anne, with a
faint smile. "Shall I tell you why?"

"Yes; but no, not now. You are very weary, my child; you look pale and
worn. Would you like some coffee?"

"Yes," said Anne, who felt a faint exhaustion stealing over her. "But
the fast-day coffee will do." For there was one package of coffee in the
store-room which went by that name, and which old Nora was instructed to
use on Fridays. Not that Jeanne-Armande followed strict rules and
discipline; but she had bought that coffee at an auction sale in the
city for a very low price, and it proved indeed so low in quality that
they could not drink it more than once a week. Certainly, therefore,
Friday was the appropriate day.

"No," said the hostess, "you shall have a little of the other, child.
Come to the kitchen. Nora has gone to bed, but I will arrange a little
supper for you with my own hands."

They went to the bare little room, where a mouse would have starved. But
mademoiselle was not without resources, and keys. Soon she "arranged" a
brisk little fire and a cheery little stew, while the pint coffee-pot
sent forth a delicious fragrance. Sitting there in a wooden chair beside
the little stove, Anne felt more of home comfort than she had ever
known at Caryl's, and the thin miserly teacher was kinder than her
grandaunt had ever been. She ate and drank, and was warmed; then,
sitting by the dying coals, she told her story, or rather as much of it
as it was necessary mademoiselle should know.

"It is a pity," said Jeanne-Armande, "and especially since she has no
relative, this grandaunt, nearer than yourself. Could nothing be done in
the way of renewal, as to heart-strings?"

"Not at present. I must rely upon you, mademoi