d for me. I never found her say anything interesting yet, but then I
did not talk to her about poor people," and Edna sneered slightly in a
ladylike way. "I think all the girls were relieved when she went to
church, for we could not get her to talk about anything."

Yes, Edna was decidedly impracticable that evening. She would not be
induced to play or sing; she was not in the humor for sacred music; no,
she did not want to read; and everything was slow and stupid.

Bessie coaxed her into the garden at last, and the soft evening air
refreshed her in spite of herself.

"Don't you ever feel _ennuyee_ and horrid?" she asked, in a sort of
apologetic manner, presently.

"Oh, yes, I suppose so; at least, I don't quite know what you mean,"
returned Bessie; but she was not thinking of the question. The stars
were glittering overhead, and Richard Sefton's words recurred to her.
How clearly she could see it all! The little lonely boy in his cot, the
young mother coming up to soothe him. She could picture her so plainly
in the white shining gown and the sparkling cross, with the tears
falling on the child's face. "Oh, that I and my little child were there
now!" Oh, how sad it all sounded; and she had gone, and not taken the
boy with her. "Poor Mr. Sefton!" thought Bessie, as she recalled the
sad, quiet tones and the moved look on Richard's face.

CHAPTER XIII.

WHITEFOOT IN REQUISITION.

Three days after this Bessie wrote the following letter--it was
commenced on Wednesday, and finished on Thursday morning:

"MY DEAR LITTLE HATTIE: It is your turn for a regular long
letter, as I have already written to mother and Christine. I
don't write to father because he is so busy, and letters bother
him; but you must tell him all the news. You cannot think how
Edna laughs at my correspondence; she always says it is such
waste of time; but you and I know better than that. It is just
the one thing that I can do for you all, now that I am away, and
I am not so selfish that I grudge an hour in the day. I know how
disappointed one face looks when there is no letter from Bessie
in the morning, and so I lay down my book and scribble away as I
am doing now.

"I am having a lovely time. I do not think I have ever played so
much in my life before. It is such a new thing, and yet it is
rather nice, too, to hear Edna say in the morning, 'Now, what
shall we do to-day?' as thou