y,
and cared for by some kind women in a house near the river, where he had
been fortunate enough to discover her.--Who cut her hair off? Perhaps
those good people,--she had been out of her head. She was alive and
unharmed, at any rate, wanting only a few days' rest. They might be very
thankful to get her back, and leave her to tell the rest of her story
when she had got her strength and memory, for she was not quite herself
yet, and might not be for some days.

And so there she was at last laid in her own bed, listening again to
the ripple of the waters beneath her, Miss Silence sitting on one side
looking as sympathetic as her insufficient nature allowed her to look;
the Irishwoman uncertain between delight at Myrtle's return and sorrow
for her condition; and Miss Cynthia Badlam occupying herself about
house-matters, not unwilling to avoid the necessity of displaying her
conflicting emotions.

Before he left the house, Mr. Gridley repeated the statement is the
most precise manner,--some miles down the river--upset and nearly
drowned--rescued almost dead--brought to and cared for by kind women in
the house where he, Byles Gridley, found her. These were the facts, and
nothing more than this was to be told at present. They had better be
made known at once, and the shortest and best way would be to have
it announced by the minister at meeting that forenoon. With their
permission, he would himself write the note for Mr. Stoker to read, and
tell the other ministers that they might announce it to their people.

The bells rang for meeting, but the little household at The Poplars did
not add to the congregation that day. In the mean time Kitty Fagan had
gone down with Mr. Byles Gridley's note, to carry it to the Rev. Mr.
Stoker. But, on her way, she stopped at the house of one Mrs. Finnegan,
a particular friend of hers; and the great event of the morning
furnishing matter for large discourse, and various social allurements
adding to the fascination of having a story to tell, Kitty Fagan forgot
her note until meeting had begun and the minister had read the text of
his sermon. "Bless my soul! and sure I 've forgot ahl about the letter!"
she cried all at once, and away she tramped for the meeting-house. The
sexton took the note, which was folded, and said he would hand it up to
the pulpit after the sermon,--it would not do to interrupt the preacher.

The Rev. Mr. Stoker had, as was said, a somewhat remarkable gift in
prayer,-