uring her successive
chance meetings with young men and women of her acquaintance, he would
have seen hard lines, coarse lines, ugly lines, in her face; yet when
in repose the same face was neither unwomanly nor without an occasional
suggestion of soul. It was a face like many others that one may see on
the streets,--entirely human, yet entirely under the control of
whatever influence might be about it for the time being,--the face of a
nature untrained and untaught, which would have followed either Jesus
or Satan, or both by turns, had both appeared before it in visible
shape.

During a moment or two of her afternoon out, Jane found herself
approaching Mrs. Prency and Eleanor, those ladies being out on one of
those serious errands known collectively as "shopping."

"Do see that dreadfully dowdy girl!" exclaimed Miss Eleanor, whose
attire was always selected with correct taste.

"She has never had any one to teach her to dress properly, my dear,"
suggested the mother.

"She might have some one who cared enough for her to keep her from
appearing in public in red hair and a blue ribbon," said the daughter.

"Such girls have no one to keep them from doing anything they like, my
dear. Let us try to be sorry for them, instead of being disgusted."

"But, mother--"

"Sh-h! she'll hear you. I'm going to bow to her; I wish you'd do the
same."

"Mother!"

"To oblige me; I'll explain afterwards."

The couple were now within several steps of Jane, who, with an odd
mixture of wistfulness and scare, had been studying Eleanor's attire.
When she saw both women looking at her, she began to take a defiant
attitude, but the toss of her head was met by one of Mrs. Prency's
heartiest smiles, accompanied by a similar recognition from Eleanor.
Short as was the time that could elapse before the couple had passed
her, it was long enough to show a change in Jane's face,--a change so
notable that Eleanor whispered,--

"Did you ever see any one alter looks so quickly?"

"Never; but I sha'n't lose any opportunity to see it again," said Mrs.
Prency.

"Mother, dear," said Eleanor, "I hope you're not suddenly going to
recognize every common person you may meet on the street. You're so
enthusiastic."

"And so different from my daughter in that respect,--eh, dear?"

"But, mother, you've always been so careful and fastidious about your
associations and mine. I remember the time, only a year or two ago,
while I was at school, when you