ttle girl four years old. Do you want to go?"

"If I can't go to school, I do," in a resigned voice.

"And you must not speak of school; remember, Prue, do not say that you
wanted to go, or that I wouldn't take you; do not speak of school at
all."

"No, I will not," promised Prue; "and when that thing doesn't happen any
more you will take me?"

XIX.

A STORY THAT WAS NOT VERY SAD.

"Children have neither past nor future; and, what scarcely ever happens
to us, they enjoy the present."--_Bruyere._

Prue was watching at the window with Minnie Harrowgate, and was joyfully
ready to go home to see Aunt Prue when Marjorie and Lizzie Harrowgate
appeared.

Standing a few moments near the parlor register, while Prue ran to put on
her wraps, Marjorie's eye would wander to the Holland plate on the
bracket. She walked home under a depression that was not all caused by
the dread of meeting Miss Prudence. They found Miss Prudence on the
stairs, coming down with a tray of dishes.

"O, Aunt Prue! Aunt Prue!" was Prue's exclamation. "I didn't go to
school, I went to Mrs. Harrowgate's instead. Marjorie said I must,
because something dreadful happened in school and I never could go until
it never happened again. But I've had a splendid time, and I want to go
again."

Miss Prudence bent over to kiss her, and gave her the tray to take into
the kitchen.

"You may stay with Deborah, dear, till I call you."

Marjorie dropped her shawl-strap of books on the carpet of the hall and
stood at the hat-stand hanging up her cloak and hat. Miss Prudence
had kissed her, but they had not looked into each other's eyes.

Was it possible that Miss Prudence suspected? Marjorie asked herself as
she took off her rubbers. She suffered her to pass into the front parlor,
and waited alone in the hall until she could gather courage to follow
her. But the courage did not come, she trembled and choked, and the slow
tears rolled over her cheeks.

"Marjorie!"

Miss Prudence was at her side.

"O, Miss Prudence! O, dear Aunt Prue, I don't want to tell you," she
burst out; "they said things about her father and about you, and I can't
tell you."

Miss Prudence's arm was about her, and she was gently drawn into the
parlor; not to sit down, for Miss Prudence began slowly to walk up and
down the long length of the room, keeping Marjorie at her side. They
paused an instant before the mirror, between the windows in the front
parlor, and both glanc