ect arms and rounded, gleaming shoulders.
"Why, Madge," she exclaimed, "your flesh is as white and smooth
as ivory, and almost as firm to the touch! It's a wonderful
transformation. I can scarcely believe, much less understand it. You
have grown so beautiful that you almost turn even my head."

"There is nothing so wonderful about it, Mary. Almost any girl may win
health, and therefore more or less beauty, if she has the sense and
will to make the effort. You know what I was when I left home. I
suggested doctors' bills more than anything else, and it was chiefly
my fault;" and she sighed deeply. "When I went to work in a rational
way to get strong, I succeeded. I believe this would be true with the
great majority. Good-night, dear. When I am rested I'm going to
help you in many ways, in return for all you did for that lazy,
lackadaisical, limp little nonentity that you used to dose and coddle
when you should have given her a good shaking."

"It's all a miracle," said Mrs. Muir to her husband, at the conclusion
of lengthy remarks about Madge.

"As much a miracle as my fortune," was the quiet reply. "Madge has had
sense enough to know what she wanted and how to get it."

CHAPTER VII

NOT A MIRACLE

Madge was simply fatigued from her long journey, and not oppressed
with want of sleep, for in passing through uninteresting portions of
the country she had given herself up to repose. The sense of weariness
passed with the hours of night, and she was among the earliest
stirring in the morning. Long before breakfast was ready she had
her trunks partially unpacked, her mind meantime busy with plans for
immediate action. At last her healthful appetite so asserted itself
that she went down to the dining-room. Mr. and Mrs. Muir had not yet
appeared, and she strolled into the parlor, opened her piano, and
played a few runs. She found it sadly out of tune from long disuse.
As this was not true of her voice, she began singing a favorite German
song.

In a moment the house was full of melody. Clear, sweet, and powerful,
her notes penetrated to the kitchen, where the maids were busy, and
they stopped in spellbound wonder, with dish or utensil in hand. Mrs.
Muir listened with her hair-brush suspended, while methodical Mr. Muir
laid down his razor, and, going to the door, set it ajar. The song
poured into the room like an harmonic flood. Before the first stanza
was completed Mrs. Muir had on her dressing-gown and was steal