ie," she repeated.

"Well, Jim's been off on some sort of a trip," said Fanny.

"I don't see anything so very queer about that."

"Wait till I tell you-- You must be sure and not breathe a word, even
to your mother; you won't, will you?"

"Fan, you make me mad! Didn't I just say I wouldn't?"

"Well, then; he went with _her_ in the auto; they started about five
o'clock in the morning, and Jim didn't get home till after twelve
that night."

Ellen laughed, with studied indifference.

"Pity they couldn't have asked us to go along," she said. "I'm sure
the car's plenty big enough."

"I don't think it was just for fun," said Fanny.

"You don't? What for, then?"

"I asked Jim, and he wouldn't tell me."

"When did you ask him?"

"The morning they went. I came down about half past four: mother
doesn't get up as early as that, we haven't much milk to look after
now; but I wake up awfully early sometimes, and I'd rather be doing
something than lying there wide awake."

Ellen squeezed Fanny's arm sympathetically. She herself had lost no
moments of healthy sleep over Jim Dodge's fancied defection; but she
enjoyed imagining herself to be involved in a passionate romance.

"Isn't it _awful_ to lie awake and think--_and think_, and not be
able to do a single thing!" she said, with a tragic gesture.

Fanny bent down to look into Ellen's pretty face.

"Why, Ellen," she said, "is it as bad as that? I didn't suppose you
really cared."

She clasped Ellen's slender waist closer and kissed her fervently.

Ellen coaxed two shining tears into sparkling prominence on her long
lashes.

"Oh, don't mind me, Fan," she murmured; "but I _can_ sympathize with
you, dear. I know _exactly_ how you feel--and to think it's the same
girl!"

Ellen giggled light-heartedly:

"Anyway, she can't marry both of them," she finished.

Fanny was looking away through the boles of the gnarled old trees,
her face grave and preoccupied.

"Perhaps I oughtn't to have told you," she said.

"Why, you haven't told me anything, yet," protested Ellen. "You're
the funniest girl, Fan! I don't believe you know how to--really
confide in anybody. If you'd tell me more how you feel about _him_,
you wouldn't care half so much."

Fanny winced perceptibly. She could not bear to speak of the
secret--which indeed appeared to be no secret--she strove daily to
bury under a mountain of hard work, but which seemed possessed of
mysterious powers of resurrection