d and sank before the quiet force in the
girl's face and voice. With all the will in the world she was too weak
to oppose this new strength in Esther. And before her mortified pride
could frame a retort, the girl had left the room.

It was of this quiet exit of Esther's that Mary was thinking as she
sewed on the autograph quilt. Better than anything else it typified the
change in the girl. It meant decision, and decision meant action. Mary
shrugged her shoulders and frowned over the quilt. Yes, undoubtedly,
Esther was getting troublesome. It might be well if she were married.

CHAPTER XX

Meanwhile, unconscious of her step-mother's troubled musings, Esther was
loitering delightfully on her way from school. Aunt Amy, who never
looked at a clock, but who always knew the time by what Jane called
"magic," was beginning to wonder what had kept her. Strain her eyes as
she would, there was no glint of a blue dress upon the long straight
road, and Dr. Callandar, who in passing had stopped by the gate,
declared that he had noticed a similar absence of that delectable colour
between the cross roads and the school house.

"I thought that I might meet her," he confessed ingenuously, "but when
she was not in sight, I concluded that I was too late. Some of those
angel children have probably had to be kept in. Could you make use of me
instead? I run errands very nicely."

"Oh, it isn't an errand." Aunt Amy smiled, for she liked Dr. Callandar
and was always as simple as a child with him. His easy, courteous
manner, which was the same to her as to every one else, helped her to be
at once more like other people and more like herself. "It's a letter. I
wanted Esther to read it to me. Of course I can read myself," as she saw
his look of surprise, "but sometimes I do not read exactly what is
written. My imagination bothers me. Do you ever have any trouble with
your imagination, Doctor?"

"I have known it to play me tricks."

"But you can read a letter just as it's written, can't you?"

"Yes. I can do that."

"Then your imagination cannot be as large as mine. Mine is very large.
It interferes with everything, even letters. When I read a letter myself
I sometimes read things which aren't there. At least," with a faint show
of doubt, "people say they aren't there."

"In other words," said Callandar, "you read between the lines."

Aunt Amy's plain face brightened. It was so seldom that any one
understood.

"Yes, that's it