ded. "I
haven't done the back stoop yet."

The girl stood looking down at her, a splendid contrast, in her strong,
erect beauty, to the little, drooping figure. Miss Arabella looked up
at her with adoring eyes. There was a strange comradeship between
these two.

"Oh, Arabella, dear," cried the girl, half pityingly, half laughingly,
"why don't you run away?"

Miss Arabella looked up with a sudden fire in her eyes and a flush on
her cheek. "Oh, Elsie! You don't mean it--really?"

"Of course I don't really mean it, Arabella," she answered, half
alarmed at the unexpected effect of her words. "Where would you run?
Only I do wish you didn't have so much managing."

Miss Arabella's head drooped. She seemed ashamed of her sudden
outburst. "Oh, I'm all right," she said, in some confusion, and then,
to hide it, added: "It seems awful nice to have you back, Elsie. I
missed you dreadful."

The girl patted her hand affectionately. "Well, you're not likely to
miss me any more for a long time," she said, with rather a forced smile.

"I s'pose you've learned near everything there is to know about singing
now, anyway, haven't you?" asked Miss Arabella comfortably.

Elsie Cameron laughed. "I feel as if I'd just begun to get the
faintest notion of it."

"Well, well, well! Music must be awful slow work. Is that why you got
tired of it?"

"Tired of it?"

"Yes; your ma was saying you didn't want to go back, though they'd all
coaxed you."

The girl looked down the long, elm-bordered street; her golden-brown
eyes had a hurt look, but her mouth was firm. She turned again to Miss
Arabella with a faint smile. Her answer was apparently irrelevant.

"Don't you remember how Uncle Hughie used to be always telling us never
to 'rastle' against the place we're put in?"

Miss Arabella looked at her, uncomprehending. In contrast to her
narrow experience, Elsie Cameron seemed to possess all that heart could
desire.

"Your Uncle Hughie's a wonderful wise man, Elsie," she said vaguely;
then, with a deep sigh, "I suppose it's wicked to be always wantin' to
do things you ain't doin'; but--I--it ain't very bad to pretend you're
doin' them, so long as you do the real things, is it?" Her color was
rising, and the girl looked at her with a kind curiosity. Even she
knew little more of the real Arabella than the rest of the village did.

"Do you know, Arabella," she cried merrily, "I've long suspected you of
leading a double l