ad an odd, shamed
expression as she looked at herself in her glass while braiding her
hair. It actually seemed to her as if she herself, and not Lily
Merrill, had so betrayed herself and given way to an unsought love.
She felt as if she saw Lily instead of herself, and she was at once
humiliated and angered. She had to pass Lily's house on her way to
school, and she did not once look up, although she had a conviction
that Lily was watching her from one of the sitting-room windows. It
was a wild winter day, with frequent gusts of wind swaying the trees
to the breaking of the softer branches, and flurries of snow. It was
hard work to keep the school-house warm. Maria, in the midst of her
perturbation, had a comforted feeling at seeing Jessy Ramsey in her
warm clothing. She passed her arm around the little girl at recess;
it was so cold that only a few of the boys went outside.

"Have you got them on, dear?" she whispered.

"Yes'm," said Jessy. Then, to Maria's consternation, she caught her
hand and kissed it, and began sobbing. "They're awful warm," sobbed
Jessy Ramsey, looking at Maria with her little, convulsed face.

"Hush, child," said Maria. "There's nothing to cry about. Mind you
keep them nice. Have you got a bureau-drawer you can put them
in?--those you haven't on? Don't cry. That's silly."

"I 'ain't got no bureau," sobbed Jessy. "But--"

"Haven't any," corrected Maria.

"Haven't any bureau-drawer," said the child. "But I got a box what
somethin'--"

"That something," said Maria.

"That something came from the store in, an' I've got 'em--"

"Them."

"Them all packed away. They're awful warm."

"Don't cry, dear," said Maria.

The other children did not seem to be noticing them. Suddenly Maria,
who still had her arm around the thin shoulders of the little girl,
stooped and kissed her rather grimy but soft little cheek. As she did
so, she experienced the same feeling which she used to have when
caressing her little sister Evelyn. It was a sort of rapture of
tenderness and protection. It was the maternal instinct glorified and
rendered spiritual by maidenhood, and its timid desires. Jessy
Ramsey's eyes looked up into Maria's like blue violets, and Maria
noticed with a sudden throb that they were like George Ramsey's.
Jessy, coming as she did from a degenerate, unbeautiful branch of the
family-tree, had yet some of the true Ramsey features, and, among
others, she had the true Ramsey eyes. They were lar