used and Nan
straightened herself with a jerk.

"I'd like to know why it's more important for me than for the other
girls? If their mothers think it's good enough for them I guess it's
good enough for me, and if they can be trusted I guess I can."

Miss Blake hesitated, but only for a moment. Then she went on steadily
and firmly, but without the least suggestion of sternness in her voice
or manner.

"The reason is simply this: You have not had the advantages the other
girls have had. You have had no mother; no careful, loving training
from the first, and--excuse me, dear--your behavior has shown it. How
could it be expected not to do so? People have criticized you, and
their criticisms have been severe, unjust even. Lately you have set
yourself right with most of your neighbors, but it has been hard work,
and it has been only begun. It will still be hard work to keep their
good opinion. If you want to hold a place in their esteem you must
earn it and keep on earning it. The other girls might do with perfect
safety what you could not dream of doing, because in them it would be
looked on merely as a single slip; with you it would be backsliding.
Do you understand me, Nan?"

There was no reply, but the girl's bent head was answer enough. Miss
Blake passed her hand tenderly over the roughened hair, and for a long
time there was silence between them. Nan was thinking, and Miss Blake
was content to let her think.

The tall clock in the corner tapped out the minutes with slow, even
ticks. The fire burned steadily on the hearth, and the logs settled as
they burned. Outside the high wind raced madly around bleak street
corners, carrying the snow before it in white, blinding clouds. The
air was so full of the swirling, eddying flakes that it dimmed the
light and made evening seem to have settled down long before its usual
time. Every now and then there came to them from the conservatory a
faint, faint breath from a blossoming daphne, as though the delicate
thing were breathing out sweet gratitude for its shelter from the storm.

Nan could not help responding to the quieting influence of it all. It
was very, very different from the place as it used to be, and she felt
the difference and the suggestiveness of it more now than she had ever
done before.

Suppose the change in herself was as marked as this? Every one seemed
to like her nowadays. They said she was altered and improved, and if
they said so, sh