expressed it so, but that was what they meant.

"See here," broke out Gypsy all at once, "Peace Maythorne wants you and
me to make up, Joy."

"Your cousin will think I'm interfering with what's none of my
business," said Peace, laughing. "I didn't say exactly that, you know; I
was only talking to you."

"Oh, I'd just as lief make up now, but I wouldn't this morning,"
wondering for the second time if Peace _could_ know what she said, and
be so gentle and good to her; "I will if Gypsy will."

"And I will if Joy will," said Gypsy, "so it's a bargain."

"Do you have a great deal of pain?" asked Joy, as they rose to go, with
real sympathy in her puzzled eyes.

"Oh, yes; but then I get along."

"Peace Maythorne!" put in Gypsy just then, "is _that_ all the dinner you
ate?" Gypsy was standing by the table on which was a plate containing a
cold potato, a broken piece of bread, and a bit of beefsteak. Evidently
from the looks of the food, only a few mouthfuls had been eaten.

"I didn't feel hungry," said Peace, evasively.

"But you like meat, for you told me so."

"I didn't care about this," said Peace, looking somewhat restless.

Gypsy looked at her sharply, then stooped and whispered a few words in
her ear.

"No," said Peace, her white cheek flushing crimson. "Oh, no, she never
told me not to. She means to be very kind. I cost her a great deal."

"But you know she'd be glad if you didn't eat much, and that was the
reason you didn't," exclaimed Gypsy, angrily. "I think it's abominable!"

"Hush! _please_ Gypsy."

Gypsy hushed. Just then the door opened and Miss Jane Maythorne, Peace's
aunt, came in. She was a tall, thin, sallow-faced woman, with angular
shoulders and a sharp chin. She looked like a New England woman who had
worked hard all her life and had much trouble, so much that she thought
of little else now but work and trouble; who had a heart somewhere, but
was apt to forget all about it except on great occasions.

"I've been talking to Peace about not eating more," said Gypsy, when she
had introduced Joy, and said good-afternoon. "She'll die if she doesn't
eat more than that," pointing to the plate.

"She can eat all she wants, as far as I know," said Aunt Jane, rather
shortly. "Nobody ever told her not to. It's nothing very fine in the way
of victuals I can get her, working as I work for two, and most beat out
every night. La! Peace, you haven't eaten your meat, have you? Well,
I'll warm it over to-m