had been very weak ever
since. I cannot be happy in leaving her any longer, though they say
nothing about my coming home."

"But she has your mother and Christine. You are not really wanted,"
urged Mrs. Sefton rather selfishly, for she was thinking of her own and
Edna's loss, and not of Bessie's anxiety.

"Hatty always wants me," returned Bessie firmly. "I think I am more to
her than any one else, except mother. I have written to father this
morning to ask what I had better do. I told him that I had had a long
holiday, and that I was ready to come home at once if Hatty wanted me."

"Oh, very well, if you have made your plans," returned Mrs. Sefton, in
rather a chilling manner; but Bessie would not let her proceed.

"Dear Mrs. Sefton," she said, much distressed at her obvious
displeasure, "you must not think that I leave you willingly. I have been
so happy here; it has been such a real holiday that I am afraid I am not
a bit anxious to go home, but if father thinks it is my duty----"

"Your father is a sensible man. I don't believe he will recall you,
anyhow. I will write to him myself, and tell him how anxious we are to
keep you. That will do no harm, eh, Bessie?"

"No," hesitated the girl; "I dare say he will only think you are all too
kind to me." She did not like to offend her hostess by begging her not
to write. Her father knew her well enough; he would not misunderstand
her. He knew her love for Hatty would never let pleasure stand in the
way if she required her. "All the enjoyments in the world would not keep
me from Hatty if she really needed me, and father knows that; we are
both quite safe with him."

Bessie was perfectly comfortable in her own mind; she was sure of her
own motives, and she had implicit faith in her father; but she would not
have been quite so easy if she had known that Mrs. Sefton intended to
send a little note to Hatty as well. It was only a kindly worded note,
full of sympathy for Hatty's little ailments, such as any friendly
stranger might write; but the closing sentence was terribly damaging to
Bessie's plans.

"Please do not let your father recall Bessie unless it be
absolutely necessary. We are all so fond of her, and my poor
girl, who is in sad trouble just now, is dependent on her for
companionship. Bessie is so happy, too, that it would be cruel
to take her away. She is becoming a first-rate horsewoman under
my son's tuition, and is very much liked by