torn, sodden shoes were ready to drop from her feet. She
looked both curiously and apprehensively at Alida with her little
blinking eyes, and then asked in a sort of breathless voice, "Where's
him?"

"Mr. Holcroft?"

Jane nodded.

"He's gone out to the fields. You are Jane, aren't you?"

Another nod.

"Oh, DEAR!" groaned Alida mentally; "I wish she hadn't come." Then
with a flush of shame the thought crossed her mind, "She perhaps is a
friendless and homeless as I was, and, and 'him' is also her only
hope." "Come in, Jane," she said kindly, "and tell me everything."

"Be you his new girl?"

"I'm his wife," said Alida, smiling.

Jane stopped; her mouth opened and her eyes twinkled with dismay. "Then
he is married, after all?" she gasped.

"Yes, why not?"

"Mother said he'd never get anyone to take him."

"Well, you see she was mistaken."

"She's wrong about everything. Well, it's no use then," and the child
turned and sat down on the doorstep.

Alida was perplexed. From the way Jane wiped her eyes with her wet
sleeve, she was evidently crying. Coming to her, Alida said, "What is
no use, Jane? Why are you crying?"

"I thought--he--might--p'raps--let me stay and work for him."

Alida was still more perplexed. What could be said by way of comfort,
feeling sure as she did that Holcroft would be bitterly hostile to the
idea of keeping the child? The best she could do was to draw the
little waif out and obtain some explanation of her unexpected
appearance. But first she asked, "Have you had any breakfast?"

Jane shook her head.

"Oh, then you must have some right away."

"Don't want any. I want to die. I oughtn' ter been born."

"Tell me your troubles, Jane. Perhaps I can help you."

"No, you'd be like the rest. They all hate me and make me feel I'm in
the way. He's the only one that didn't make me feel like a stray cat,
and now he's gone and got married," and the child sobbed aloud.

Her grief was pitiful to see, for it was overwhelming. Alida stooped
down, and gently lifting the child up, brought her in. Then she took
off the wet hat and wiped the tear-stained face with her handkerchief.
"Wait a minute, Jane, till I bring you something," and she ran to the
dairy for a glass of milk. "You must drink it," she said, kindly but
firmly.

The child gulped it down, and with it much of her grief, for this was
unprecedented treatment and was winning her attention.

"Say," she faltered, "