he drives a stage, and
reckons to meet passengers, and take up trunks, but he's sort o'
half-baked, and he's afraid to bring his old horse out when it
rains--'fraid it'll catch the rheumatiz. You better step over to my
house 'long o' me; somebody'll be here in the course of an hour."

Grace's face flushed. It took all her pride to keep back a rush of
angry, hurt tears. To give up Paris, and Uncle Ralph and Aunt Hattie,
and her winter of music and art, and come to the woods and be treated in
this way! She was amazed and indignant. But her native good sense showed
her there was, there must be, some reason for what looked like neglect.
Then came a tender thought of mamma. She wouldn't treat her thus.

"Did a telegram from me reach Dr. Wainwright last evening?" Grace
inquired, presently.

The agent fidgeted and looked confused. Then he said coolly: "That
explains the whole situation now. A dispatch did come, and I calc'lated
to send it up to Wishin'-Brae by somebody passing, but nobody came along
goin' in that direction, and I clean forgot it. Its too bad; but you
step right over to my house and take a bite. There'll be a chance to
get you home some time to-day."

At this instant, "Is this Grace Wainwright?" exclaimed a sweet, clear
voice, and two arms were thrown lovingly around the tired girl. "I am
Mildred Raeburn, and this is Lawrence, my brother. We were going over to
your house, and may we take you? I was on an errand there for mamma.
Your people didn't know just when to look for you, dear, not hearing
definitely, but we all supposed you would come on the five o'clock
train. Mr. Slocum, please see that Miss Wainwright's trunks are put
under cover till Burden's express can be sent for them." Mildred stepped
into the carryall after Grace, giving her another loving hug.

"Mildred, how dear of you to happen here at just the right moment, like
an angel of light! You always did that. I remember when we were little
things at school. It is ages since I was here, but nothing has changed."

"Nothing ever changes in Highland, Grace. I am sorry you see it again
for the first on this wet and dismal day. But to-morrow will be
beautiful, I am sure."

"Lawrence, you have grown out of my recollection," said Grace. "But
we'll soon renew our acquaintance. I met your chum at Harvard, Edward
Gerald at Geneva, and he drove with our party to Paris." Then, turning
to Mildred, "My mother is no better, is she? Dear, patient mother! I'v