rly white shawl, to sit by
the little painted table--built so long ago for Edith's pleasure! She
had put old Bingo's basket in the sun, and stroked him gently; he was
very helpless now, and ate nothing except from her hands.

"Poor little Bingo!" Eleanor said; "dear little Bingo!" Bingo growled,
and Eleanor looked up to see why--Edith was on the iron veranda.

"Hullo!" Edith said, gayly; "isn't it a wonderful day? I just ran in--"
She came down the twisted stairway and, unasked and smiling, sat down at
the table. "Bingo! Don't you know your friends? One would think I was a
burglar! Oh, Eleanor, the tulips are up! Do you remember when Maurice
and I planted them?"

Eleanor's throat tightened. She made some gasping assent.

"I came 'round," Edith said--her frank eyes looked straight into
Eleanor's eyes, dark and agonized--"I ran in, because I'm afraid you
thought, yesterday, that I wanted to quarter myself on you? And I just
wanted to say, don't give it a thought! I perfectly understand that
sometimes it's inconvenient to have company, and--"

"It's not inconvenient to have company," Eleanor said.

Edith stopped short. ("What a dead give-away!" she thought; "she
dislikes me!") Then she tried, generously, to cover the "give-away" up:
She said something about guests and servants: "We're having an awful
time at Green Hill--servants are the limit! When a maid stays six weeks,
we call her an old family retainer!"

Eleanor said, "I have no difficulty with maids. That is not why I prefer
not to have ... company."

By this time, of course, Edith's one thought was to get away, with
dignity; but dignity, when you've had your face slapped, is almost
impossible. So Edith (being Edith!) chose Truth, and didn't trouble
herself with dignity! "Eleanor," she said, "I know it's me you don't
want. I felt it last night. I'm afraid I've done something that has
offended you. Have I? Truly, Eleanor, I haven't meant to! What is it?
Let's talk it out. Eleanor, what _have_ I done?" She put her hands down
on Eleanor's, clasped rigidly on the table.

"Please!" Eleanor said, and drew her hands away.

"Oh," Edith said, pitifully, "you are troubled!"

Eleanor said, with a gasp: "Not at all ... Edith, I am afraid I must ask
you to ... excuse me. I'm busy."

Edith was too amazed to speak; she could not, indeed, think of anything
to say! This wasn't "dislike." "Why, she _hates_ me!" she thought. "Why
does she hate me? Shall I not notice it? S