idden by a common-looking groom, the other by a very smart, well
set-up person, with a belt round his waist. That was all she saw, for
they were gone in a flash, and she was too uncomfortable to see much, or
to do more than hurriedly answer Florence's exclamation--

"Ain't he quite the gentleman? Bain't his horses real darlings?" before
Jessie's voice was heard--

"Why, whatever are you two doing here?"

The two girls both giggled, and each pushed the other to make her tell,
and Florence laughed out--

"Oh, 'twas Amy wanted to see Mr. Wingfield pass by."

"No, 'twasn't. 'Twas you," said Amy.

"I don't see why you should get into a corner about it," said Jessie,
rather gravely. "I've just met him straight upon the road, horses and
all."

"O yes, _you_!" said Florence.

"Well, why not me?"

"O, you know, you'll soon be an old maid like your sister."

Jessie had not grown so wise as not to be nettled at this silly
impertinent speech, but she was much more vexed to see that Florence was
teaching Amy her own follies--Amy, who had always seemed like a pure
little innocent wild rose-bud in its modest green leaves. So she
answered, rather shortly--

"If you mean that I don't want to be right down ridiculous, I hope I am
an old maid."

This seemed to be very funny, for Florence went off in fits of laughing,
and kept shouldering Amy to make her see the joke, but Amy had by this
time grown ashamed and frightened and only answered, "Don't."

So the three girls went in together, and no one took any special notice
of Amy's hot face and uncomfortable gestures. It was the first time
since she had been a very little child that she had shrunk from her
aunts' eyes, or feared that they should ask her questions; and the
sense that she had been undeserving of the trust they placed in her made
her very ill at ease, though the silly girl did not do the only thing
that would have set her right again, and made her safer for the future.

Jessie meanwhile had forgotten the little vexation. She had something to
brighten her up in Miss Needwood's little note.

It was written on pink paper, edged with blue, as if nothing could be
too good for Jessie; and it said no words could tell how glad she was,
and what a comfort it was to have this real work to do. "It is really
like a ray of hope in the darkness," said poor Bessie, in her little
thin weak writing, with a very hard steel pen.

But that note warmed up Jessie's heart, although