, Susan--but I have no executive ability, you know.
And--and, then, poor dear father used to have such a horror of women who
were always running about to meetings. He would never even let mother do
church work--except, of course, when there was a cake sale or a fair of
the missionary society."

Susan's last effort had failed, and as she followed Virginia downstairs
and to the front door, a look almost of gloom settled on her large
cheerful face.

"Try to pay some calls every afternoon, won't you, dear?" she said at
the door. "I'll come in to see you in the morning when we get back from
marketing."

Then she added softly, "If you are ever lonesome and want me, telephone
for me day or night. There's nothing on earth I wouldn't do for you,
Jinny."

Virginia's eyes were wonderful with love and gratitude as they shone on
her through the twilight. "We've been friends since we were two years
old, Susan, and, do you know, there is nobody in the world that I would
ask anything of as soon as I would of you."

A look of unutterable understanding and fidelity passed between them;
then turning silently away, Virginia descended the steps and walked
quickly along the path to the pavement, while Susan, after watching her
through the gate, shut the door and went upstairs to the nursery.

The town lay under a thin crust of snow, which was beginning to melt in
the chill rain that was falling. Raising her umbrella, Virginia picked
her way carefully over the icy streets, and Miss Priscilla, who was
looking in search of diversion out of her front window, had a sudden
palpitation of the heart because it seemed to her for a minute that
"Lucy Pendleton had returned to life." So one generation of gentle
shades after another had moved in the winter's dusk under the frosted
lamps of High Street.

Through the windows of her house a cheerful light streamed out upon the
piles of melting snow in the yard, and at the door one of her coloured
servants met her with the news that a telegram was on the hall table.
Before opening it she knew what it was, for Oliver's correspondence with
her had taken this form for more than a year.

"Arrived safely. Very busy. Call on John Henry if you need anything."

She put it down and turned hastily to letters from Harry and Jenny. The
first was only a scrawl in pencil, written with that boyish reticence
which always overcame Harry when he wrote to one of his family; but
beneath the stilted phrases she could