shared by most o' the world," she proceeded, with a fine air of
impartiality.

"I--we have been very much misunderstood," said the boy stiffly,
"but I have never been in the habit of allowing other people's ideas
to affect my actions."

"You been spoiled, you mean," Luella interpolated, "I thought so.
Spoiled to death, prob'ly."

He bit his lip. "But I hope I--we are prepared for
anything--_anything_," he repeated with emphasis, "that may result
from the course we have taken. I expect the results will be
unpleasant--I expect it fully."

"I guess your expectations 'll be fulfilled right enough," she
responded promptly. "And as for bein' prepared--you remind me o' my
father, Mr. Wortley. He used to say he'd been prepared for death
since the age o' seven years, but he did hope the Lord wouldn't take
advantage of it. Is--is she prepared, too?"

He looked lovingly at the girl who crouched on the floor beside him.
"Dorothy and I think precisely the same in everything," he said
proudly, "don't we, my dearest one?"

Luella's lips twitched; she looked at the flushed arrogant young
face with irrepressible admiration.

"I reely b'lieve you think so!" she declared, and as his hand
clinched and his eyes flashed dangerously, she raised her hand with
a warning gesture.

"There, there now, I get enough o' that from your father!" she
admonished him, adding quickly, "Does he know you're here?"

"I don't know," he answered irritably, "I never supposed _he'd_ be
here. I came up here because I'd made all my plans to--and I never
let my plans be interfered with, if I can possibly avoid it. I told
the man to get it ready for me, but just before we started he
telegraphed that it was engaged for the season. But I came all the
same, because I knew this little one would be empty. Father bought
it up to protect himself. Does he know I'm here?"

Luella looked thoughtful. "I reely don't know," she said slowly.

"It'll come pretty hard on her, doin' her own work, won't it?" she
went on, watching him curiously. Then, as he started angrily, "Oh,
there ain't nobody here will come, by the day, or any other way--I
sh'd s'pose you'd known that. And as for any o' the cottage
people--heavens an' earth, Car'line, will you get up an' go home? I
don't know what's come over me to forget that child--she sits so
still--"

But as Caroline got sulkily from her seat, cowed by Luella's stern
face, Dorothy put out her hand and caught the child's dres