way of opportunity.

Miss Penny's natural goodness of heart impelled her to the most
delicate consideration towards Mrs. Pixley. Hennie Penny, you see, had
come bravely through dire troubles of her own, and tribulation softens
the heart as it does the ormer. She anticipated the nervous old lady's
every want, soothed her bruised susceptibilities in a thousand hidden
ways, tended her as lovingly as an only daughter might have done,--and
all out of the sheer necessity of her heart, and with never a thought
of reward other than the satisfaction of her own desire for the
happiness of all about her.

Not that the others were one whit less considerate, but, in the
natural course of things, Miss Penny's heart and time were, perhaps, a
little more at liberty for outside service, and in Mrs. Pixley the
opportunity met her half-way.

It is safe to say that the old lady had never in her life been so much
made of. Margaret had always been gentle and sweet with her; but the
cold white light of Mr. Pixley's unco' guidness had always cast a
shadow upon the household, and Margaret had got from under it
whenever the chance offered.

"You are very good to me, my dear," Charles heard his mother say to
Hennie Penny, one day when they two were alone together and did not
know anyone was near. "If I had ever had a daughter I would have liked
her to be like you. How did you learn to be so thoughtful of other
people?"

"I think it must have been through having come through lots of
troubles of my own," said Hennie Penny simply.

"Troubles abound," said the tremulous old lady. "You have drawn the
sting of yours and kept only the honey," which saying astonished
Charles greatly. He had no idea his mother could say things like that.
She had had time to think plenty of them, indeed, but there had never
been room for more than one shining light in the household and that
had cast strong shadows.

Charles had gone quietly away smiling to himself, and had been in
cheerful spirits for the rest of the day.

The first night, when the ladies had gone chattering upstairs to make
sure that all the arrangements were in order, Graeme and Pixley sat
out on the verandah smoking a final pipe.

The ladies' voices floated through the open windows as they passed
from room to room, and Graeme laughed softly. "What's up?" asked
Pixley, gazing at him soberly.

"I was thinking of the changes here since the first night I slept in
this house all by myself, and