come in?--you and Gabriel Tolliver. It is very lonely here, and
everything is so still and quiet. My name is Margaret Bridalbin," she
said. She took Nan's hand, and looked into her eyes as if searching for
sympathy. And she must have found it there, for she drew Nan toward her
and kissed her.

That settled it for Nan. "My name is Nan Dorrington," she said,
swallowing a lump in her throat, "and I hope we shall be very good
friends."

"We are sure to be," replied the other, with emphasis. "I always know at
once."

They went into the dim parlour, and Nan and Margaret sat with their arms
entwined around each other. "Gabriel told me yesterday that you were a
young girl," Nan remarked.

"I am seventeen," replied the other.

"Only seventeen! Why, I am seventeen, and yet I seem to be a mere child
by the side of you. You talk and act just as a grown woman does."

"That is because I have never associated with children of my own age. I
have always been thrown with older persons. And then my mother has been
ill a long, long time, and I have been compelled to do a great deal of
thinking. I know of nothing more disagreeable than to have to think. Do
you dislike poor folks?"

"No, I don't," replied Nan, snuggling up to Margaret. "Some of my very
bestest friends are poor."

Margaret smiled at the childish adjective, and placed her cheek against
Nan's for a moment. "I'm glad you don't dislike poverty," she said, "for
we are very poor."

"When it comes to that," Nan responded, "everybody around here is
poor--everybody except Grandfather Clopton and Mr. Tomlin. They have
money, but I don't know where they get it. Nonny says that some folks
have only to dream of money, and when they wake in the morning they find
it under their pillows."

Dr. Dorrington came downstairs at this moment. "Your mother is very much
better than she was awhile ago," he said to Margaret. "She never should
have made so long a journey. She has wasted in that way strength enough
to have kept her alive for six months."

"I begged and implored her not to undertake it," the daughter explained,
"but nothing would move her. Even when she needed nourishing food, she
refused to buy it; she was saving it to bring her home."

"Well, she is here, now, and we'll do the best we can. Gabriel, will you
run over, and ask Fanny Tomlin to come? And if Neighbour Tomlin is there
tell him I want to see him on some important business."

It was very clear to Gabriel from a