otor
and they'd take long drives far into the country.

Ethel now knew why Aunt Susan loved the man so dearly. She praised him
constantly and the girl thought: "Well, if as Dorothy Kip expresses it
he's doing these kind acts to 'build character' with Aunt Susan, at
least he's an excellent actor."

They visited the Insane Asylum. It was like a lovely summer hotel and
the nurses were most solicitous and polite to the patients. Ethel could
understand how they might be cured,--how their poor tired and sick
brains were rested and strengthened by humane treatment. It was a
wonderful revelation to the young girl--this charity of Aunt Susan's.
What a good, worthy woman, and after her death what a reward awaited her
if we are to be rewarded according to our good deeds.

Ethel was changing. She had lost a good deal of her worldly pride.
Cousin Kate was expected the following week and she was looking forward
to trying on her Camp Fire costume, and to the happy days that were to
come.

One morning Aunt Susan sat by the window sewing. She looked actually
lovely, or at least Ethel thought so, and longed for Grandmamma to see
the change that she had wrought. As she gazed upon the old lady she said
to herself: "Perhaps, it is because I'm growing so fond of her."

Aunt Susan had on a white silk sacque that Ethel had made, trimmed with
rare old lace ruffles at the wrist and collar, while her hair was very
white and pretty. There was a gentle breeze blowing in at the window,
and little curly locks fell upon her forehead.

Ethel was knitting a sweater. She had learned the stitch in the town
where she had bought her wool, and she was making one for her mother.
In after years she never knitted that she didn't think of the
conversation that took place between Aunt Susan and herself. The ground
was covered with white petals of apple and cherry blossoms and it was as
though the snow had fallen in May. She remembered everything connected
with that conversation, and later in life she could close her eyes and
hear the robins calling and see the butterflies flitting among the
bushes, for that morning was the turning point in her life.

"Aunt Susan," began the girl, knitting very rapidly, "Mr. Tom tells me
that his mother was your pupil. Did you teach very long?"

"Yes, Ethel," she replied, "I taught for years. Father, although a rich
man, expected his girls to do something, and there he was wise. He
always said that a girl should have some