You go away to bed now, mother, and I'll set the bread."

Her mother went slowly to her room, and Christina bustled about the
kitchen. She had got out the bowl and the flour, when she heard
Ellen's step on the old creaking veranda floor. The door opened and
Christina turned with a word of gay raillery, but stopped suddenly.
Ellen stood in the doorway looking white and dazed, as though some one
had given her a blow.

"Ellen!" cried Christina aghast. "What is the matter? Are you sick?"
Her sister did not seem to hear. She did not answer, but passed the
door and went on upstairs, slowly and stumbling, as though she were
Grandpa's age!

Sandy came in from the woodshed door to find Christina standing
overcome in the middle of the kitchen. "What's the matter?" he asked.
"Did you see a ghost?"

"Oh, Sandy," Christina was full of dismay, "something is wrong with
Ellen and Bruce. Something dreadful."

Sandy was deeply concerned as he listened. This was no mere girl's
love affair like the sort Mary would have had. Bruce and Ellen had
always been lovers. It was like hearing that John had broken with the
family.

"Ellen just can't stand it here any longer," Christina burst out at
last. "The girls are all talking about her, and Joanna is just
dreadful; and, oh, Sandy, do you think I ought to let her go West
instead of me?"

"Now, you look here!" cried Sandy violently, "don't you go talking like
that any more. If there's anybody has to stay home I will. You just
can't be the one that's always left. Cheer up. Wait till you ask
Ellen what's up. Maybe it's not so bad, after all!"

It was just as bad as it could be, Christina felt sure, as she lay
awake in the night listening to Ellen's slow deep sobs, not daring to
ask the cause. The Lindsay girls were reticent, especially about
affairs of the heart, and Christina hesitated to intrude. It was not
till they were alone in the spring house with the churning the next
morning, that the opening to the subject came and Ellen herself made
it. She had gone about her work, pale and spiritless all morning, her
mother's kindly eyes watching her with anxiety.

"Christine," Ellen said, when the picnic was broached, "I wish you'd
tell Mrs. Johnnie Dunn you'll take my place on the tea committee, will
you? I don't want to go."

"Of course I will," said Christina. "But don't you want to go to the
picnic?"

Ellen turned her back and busied herself with something in the