s feasted like the
prodigal son on his return, and no one thought of reproaching her for
having run away. And Kate returned the love and kindness she met with
fully and joyously, for now she had entered into that mysterious rest
and sweetness existing somewhere at the heart of things, of which so
much is written, but which so few set themselves with earnest purpose
to find.

It was a surprise to every one, except perhaps to Mother Agnes, who
understood the girl's mind, when Kate began to write little poems, and
to receive sundry little sums of money from different magazines for
them. Kate's first wish, of course, was to give back the value of the
Orphanage dress in which she had run away; and then Mother Agnes
started a money-box, into which all the earnings were put in the hope
that some day enough would be found in it to buy Kate a cork leg.
"That day, Kate," said she, "may yet be a long way off. But,
meanwhile, dear child, you will remain here, and complete your
education, and by-and-by I hope we shall see you mistress of a village
school."

The money-box was placed in the Orphanage schoolroom, and the children
dropped their pennies in, and sometimes strangers who came to visit the
Orphanage were told how Kate had lost her leg, and added something to
the fund. And, in course of time, the box got so full that Mother
Agnes, for prudence sake, would carry it to her own room to lock it up
at night.

* * * * * *

Another frosty Christmas, but it was night now, and all the glories of
a starlit sky could be seen from the corridor window, on the broad
ledge of which Kate and Frances sat. The years that had passed had
changed them much. Kate had a quiet power about her that could be more
felt than expressed in words. Her face, quaint and clever, was lighted
up by a singularly sweet smile; and nothing reminded one of the old
Kate except the large, pathetic eyes. She was Mother Agnes's right
hand with the little ones. Her way of managing them was so winning
that she seldom or never caused vexation; and she brought sympathy,
imagination, and judgment to bear in her work amongst them.

Frances had grown very pretty; she had golden brown hair, and blue eyes
that were always laughing; and her face was not only beautiful in form
and colour, but sensitive and refined. She had quite recovered her
accident; was fleet of foot as a little hare, and full of health and
spirits. Frances was a