d Mrs. Thorne next sat at their breakfast table it was
graced by a plate of cakes that might have come straight from mother
Thorne's kitchen; and some of the home butter was there, sweet as
roses; some of the golden maple syrup, too, from the trees Philip
had played under; and Ruey sat triumphant, with a little air that
said--

"Didn't I tell you I'd do it?"

"Ruey," said Philip, "I do believe that 'elopement' of yours paid,
notwithstanding the outlay of doubts and fears, money and tears, to
say nothing of the muscle I put into that huge drift."

Ruey knew why it "paid," though she didn't tell her husband just
then; she should never forget that night, nor the plain woman with
the old bonnet who carried the untroubled face and the worn book.
Deep in her heart a new purpose had taken root; an ambition not only
to make cakes like Philip's mother, but to attain to that blessed
something which made this other woman so different from those about
her.

FAITH AND GASOLINE.

Mrs. Faith Vincent was crying; there was no denying it, veritable
tears were in her eyes and on her cheeks all the time she was bathing
the plump limbs of her baby and robing her in dainty garments of
flannel and embroidery. Then she struggled through the notes of a sad
lullaby, and now the long lashes lay quietly on the pretty cheek, and
the fair young mamma was free to lay her head on the side of the crib
and indulge in a good cry.

The clue to all this trouble was condensed in a sentence that the
young husband let fall just as he left for his business a few moments
before--"I see no other way, my dear: you will be obliged to take
baby and go to Uncle Joshua's for the summer. The extreme heat will
come on now very soon, and then neither you nor Daisy will be able to
endure it in this room."

Now that would not be a very appalling statement to make to most
wives, that they must pack up and get out of the hot dusty city to a
farmhouse in the country, even though they did leave their husbands
sweltering behind, but there were several points to be taken into
consideration in this case. In the first place, Mr. and Mrs. Vincent
had not yet learned how to maintain a separate existence. Life apart
from each other was a tame, spiritless thing, simply to be endured,
not enjoyed; then, too, Uncle Joshua's home was not a Paradise,
although he and Aunt Patty were kind and pleasant. Faith had vivid
memories of a few weeks spent there soon after her mar