used to say, "if they ailed nothing and kept their
consciences in good order. Laughing cost nothing, and talking was the
cheapest amusement she knew."

"That depends," replied her father oracularly, on overhearing this
remark. "Words are dear enough sometimes. You are a wise woman, Bessie,
but you have plenty to learn yet. We all have to buy experience
ourselves. I don't want you to get your wisdom second-hand; second-hand
articles don't last; so laugh away, child, as long as you can."

"I love spring," thought Bessie, as she walked on. "I always did like
bright things best. I wonder why I feel so hopeful to-day, just as
though I expected something pleasant to happen. Nothing ever does
happen, as Chriss says. Just a letter from Tom, telling us his news, or
an invitation to tea with a neighbor, or perhaps a drive out into the
country with father. Well, they are not big things, but they are
pleasant, for all that. I do like a long talk with father, when he has
no troublesome case on his mind, and can give me all his attention. I
think there is no treat like it; but I mean Hatty to have the next turn.
She has been good lately; but she looks pale and dwindled. I am not half
comfortable about her." And here Bessie broke off her cogitations, for
at that moment Katie rushed out of the house and began dancing up and
down, waving a letter over her head.

"What a time you have been!" cried the child excitedly. "I have been
watching for you for half an hour. Here is a letter for your own self,
and it is not from Aunt Charlotte nor Uncle Charles, nor any old fogy
at all."

"Give it to me, please," returned Bessie. "I suppose it is from Tom,
though why you should make such a fuss about it, as though no one ever
got a letter, passes my comprehension. No, it is from Miss Sefton; I
recognize her handwriting;" which was true, as Bessie had received a
note from Edna a few days after she had left them, conveying her own and
her mother's thanks for the kind hospitality she had received.

"Of course it is from Miss Sefton; there's the Oatlands post-mark. Ella
and I were trying to guess what was in it; we thought that perhaps, as
Mrs. Sefton is so rich, she might have sent you a present for being so
kind to her daughter; that was Ella's idea. Do open it quickly, Bessie;
what is the use of looking at the envelope?"

"I am afraid I can't satisfy your curiosity just yet, Kitty. Hatty is
waiting for the silks I have been matching, and mot