Miss. French's place--the Association, you know. It's
really wonderful how cheap things are there. And the very best cut, by
dressmakers from Paris.'

Nancy wondered, and felt that her diminishing regard for Miss. Morgan
had suffered a fresh blow.

There was much news to receive and impart. In writing from Falmouth,
Nancy had referred to the details of her own life with studied
ambiguity. She regretted having taken Jessica into her confidence, and
avoided penning a word which, if read by any one but her correspondent,
would betray the perilous secret. Jessica, after her illness, was
inclined to resent this extreme caution, which irritated her curiosity;
but in vain she assured Nancy that there was not the least fear of her
letters falling into wrong hands. For weeks at a time she heard nothing,
and then would come a letter, long indeed, but without a syllable of the
information she desired. Near the end of May she received a line or two,
'I have been really ill, but am now much better. I shall stay here only
a few weeks more. Don't be anxious; I am well cared for, and the worst
is over.'

She heard the interpretation from Nancy's lips, and laughed and cried
over it.

'What you must have suffered, my poor dear! And to be separated from the
little darling! Oh, it's too cruel! You are sure they will be kind to
it?'

'Mary has every confidence in the woman. And I like the look of her; I
don't feel uneasy. I shall go there very often, of course.'

'And when is _he_ coming back? He oughtn't to have kept away all this
time. How unkind!'

'Not at all,' Nancy replied, with sudden reserve. 'He is acting for the
best. You mustn't ask me about that; you shall know more some day.'

Jessica, whose face made legible presentment of her every thought,
looked disappointed and peevish.

'And you are really going in for the examination again?' Nancy asked.

'Oh, of course I am!' answered the other perkily; 'but not till summer
of next year. I'm not allowed to study much yet; the doctor says I might
do my brain a serious injury. I read a great deal; books that rest the
mind--poetry and fiction; of course only the very best fiction. I shall
soon be able to begin teaching again; but I must be very careful. Only
an hour or two a day at first, and perhaps quite young children.'

Evidently the girl felt a certain pride in what she had undergone. Her
failure to matriculate was forgotten in the sense that she offered
a most interest