it.
Helen will be interested to know all about it; I've told her about you."

"There's nothing to tell about me," returned Marjorie.

"Then I must have imagined it; you used to be such a cunning little
thing."

"_Used to be!_" repeated sensitive Marjorie, to herself. She was sure
Hollis was disappointed in her. And she thought he was so tall and wise
and handsome and grand! She could never be disappointed in him.

How surprised she would have been had she known that Helen's eyes had
filled with tears when Hollis told her how his little friend had risen
all alone in that full church! Helen thought she could never be like
Marjorie.

"I wish you had a picture of how you used to look for me to show Helen."

Not how she looked to-day! Her lips quivered and she kept her eyes on her
dusty shoes.

"I suppose you want the pitcher immediately."

Two years ago Hollis would have said "right away."

After that Marjorie never forgot to say "immediately."

"Yes, I would," she said, slowly. "I've hidden the pieces away and nobody
knows it is broken."

"That isn't like you," Hollis returned, disappointedly.

"Oh, I didn't do it to deceive; I couldn't. I didn't want her to be sorry
about it until I could see what I could do to replace it"

"That sounds better."

Marjorie felt very much as if he had been finding fault with her.

"Will you have to pay for it?"

"Not if mother gives it to me, but perhaps I shall exact some return from
you."

She met his grave eyes fully before she spoke. "Well, I'll give you all I
can earn. I have only seventy-three cents; father gives me one tenth of
the eggs for hunting them and feeding the chickens, and I take them to
the store. That's the only way I can earn money," she said in her sweet
half-abashed voice.

A picture of Helen taking eggs to "the store" flashed upon Hollis'
vision; he smiled and looked down upon his little companion with
benignant eyes.

"I could give you all I have and send you the rest. Couldn't I?" she
asked.

"Yes, that would do. But you must let me set my own price," he returned
in a business like tone.

"Oh I will. I'd do anything to get Miss Prudence a pitcher," she said
eagerly.

The faded muslin brushed against him; and how odd and old-fashioned her
hat was! He would not have cared to go on a picnic with Marjorie in this
attire; suppose he had taken her into the crowd of girls among which his
cousin Helen was so noticeable last week, how they woul