From your loving,
EMMA FARNUM."

"Are you smiling, Mr. Sawyer?" asked Alice.

"Not at all," he answered. "I am looking grieved because Miss Farnum has
such a poor opinion of me."

Alice laughed merrily. "Emma is a very bright, pretty girl," said Alice.
"She boarded at the same house that I did. Her sister Stella is married
to a Mr. Dwight. I will answer her letter as she suggests by sending her
the promised photograph. On the bureau in my room, Mr. Sawyer, you will
find an envelope containing six photographs. I had them taken about a
month before I was sick. Underneath you will find some heavy envelopes
that the photographer gave me to mail them in."

Quincy went upstairs three steps at a time. He found the package, and
impelled by an inexplicable curiosity he counted the pictures and found
there were seven. "She said six," he thought to himself. "I am positive
she said there were only six." He took one of the pictures and put it in
one of the mailing envelopes. He took another picture, and after giving
it a long, loving look he placed it in the inside pocket of his coat,
and with a guilty flush upon his face he fled from the room.

Just as he reached the open parlor door a second thought, which is said
to be the best, came to him, and he was about turning to go upstairs and
replace the picture when Alice's acute ear heard him and she asked, "Did
you find them?"

Quincy, seeing that retreat was now impossible, said, "Yes," and resumed
his seat beside her.

"Did you find six?" said Alice.

"There are five upstairs in the envelope and one here ready to address,"
replied Quincy.

"Her address," continued Alice, "is Miss Emma Farnum, care Cotton & Co.,
Real Estate Brokers, Tremont Row."

Quincy went to the table, wrote the address as directed, and tied the
envelope with the string attached.

"I am afraid the other letter cannot be so easily answered," said Alice.
"Look at the signature, please, and see if it is not from Bessie White."

"It is signed Bessie," said Quincy.

"I thought so," exclaimed Alice. "She works for the same firm that I
did."

Quincy read the following:

"My Dear May:--I know that you will be glad to learn what is going on at
the great dry goods house of Borden, Waitt, & Fisher. Business is good,
and we girls are all tired out when night comes and have to go to a
party or the theatre to get rested. Mr. Ringgold, the head bookkeeper,
is disconsolate over your absence, and asks done or