tottered to her feet, and the others rose instinctively
also. She stood for a moment, her hand at her throat, her eyes fixed on
Bubble, trembling as if he had struck her a heavy blow; then, as the
frightened girls made a motion to advance, she waved them back with a
gesture full of dignity, and turned and entered the house, making a low
moan as she went.

"Send Martha to her, _quick_!" said Hildegarde, in an imperative
whisper. "Fly, Bubble! the back door!"

Bubble flew, as if he had been shot from a gun, and returned, wide-eyed
and open-mouthed, to find his sister in tears, and his adored Miss Hilda
pacing up and down the piazza with hasty and agitated steps.

"What is it?" he cried in dismay. "What did I do? What is the matter
with everybody? Why, I never--"

Hildegarde quieted him with a gesture, and then told him, briefly, the
story of the house in the wood. Poor Bubble was quite overcome. He
punched his head severely, and declared that he was the most stupid
idiot that ever lived.

"I'd better go away!" he cried. "I can't see the old lady again. As kind
as she's been to me, and then for me to call her a--I guess I'll be
going, Miss Hilda; I'm no good here, and only doing harm."

"Be quiet, Bubble!" said Hildegarde, smiling in the midst of her
distress. "You shall do nothing of the kind. And, Rose, you are not to
shed another tear. Who knows? This may be the very best thing that could
have happened. Of course I wouldn't have had you say it, Bubble, just
in that way; but now that it _is_ said, I--I think I am glad of it. I
should not wonder--I really do hope that it may have been just the word
that was wanted."

And so it proved. For an hour after, as the three still sat on the
piazza,--two of them utterly disconsolate, the third trying to cheer
them with the hope that she was feeling more and more strongly,--Martha
appeared. There were traces of tears in her friendly gray eyes, but she
looked kindly at the forlorn trio.

"Miss Bond is not feeling very well!" she said. "She is lying down, and
thinks she will not come downstairs this evening. Here is a note for
you, Miss Hilda, and a letter for the post."

Hildegarde tore open the little folded note, and read, in Miss Wealthy's
pretty, regular hand, these words:--

MY DEAR HILDA,--Please tell the boy that I do
not mean to be an old hunks, and ask him to
post this letter. We will make our arrangements
to-morrow, as I am rat