easy indulgence with which old friends
are likely to be treated for old times' sake; and Wickersham was
deceived. Fortune appeared suddenly to smile on him again. Hope sprang
up once more.

Mrs. Nailor one day met Lois, and informed her that Mr. Wickersham was
now a rival of Mr. Keith's with Mrs. Lancaster, and, what was more, that
Norman Wentworth had learned that it was not Wickersham at all, but Mr.
Keith who had really caused the trouble between Norman and his wife.

Lois was aghast. She denied vehemently that it was true; but Mrs. Nailor
received her denial with amused indulgence.

"Oh, every one knows it," she said. "Mr. Keith long ago cut Fredy out;
and Norman knows it."

Lois went home in a maze. This, then, explained why Mr. Keith had
suddenly stopped coming to the house. When he had met her he had
appeared as glad as ever to see her, but he had also appeared
constrained. He had begun to talk of going away. He was almost the only
man in New York that she could call her friend. To think of New York
without him made her lonely. He was in love with Mrs. Lancaster, she
knew--of that she was sure, notwithstanding Mrs. Nailor's statement.
Could Mrs. Lancaster have treated him badly? She had not even cared for
her husband, so people said; would she be cruel to Keith?

The more she pondered over it the more unhappy Lois became. Finally it
appeared to her that her duty was plain. If Mrs. Lancaster had rejected
Keith for Wickersham, she might set her right. She could, at least, set
her right as to the story about him and Mrs. Wentworth.

That afternoon she called on Mrs. Lancaster. It was in the Spring, and
she put on a dainty gown she had just made.

She was received with the sincere cordiality that Alice Lancaster always
showed her. She was taken up to her boudoir, a nest of blue satin and
sunshine. And there, of all occupations in the world, Mrs. Lancaster,
clad in a soft lavender tea-gown, was engaged in mending old clothes.
"For my orphans," she said, with a laugh and a blush that made her look
charming.

A photograph of Keith stood on the table in a silver frame. When,
however, Lois would have brought up the subject of Mr. Keith, his name
stuck in her throat.

"I have what the children call 'a swap' for you," said the girl,
smiling.

Mrs. Lancaster smiled acquiescingly as she bit off a thread.

"I heard some one say the other day that you were one of those who 'do
good by stealth, and blush to find it