or all they hope to do, I'd be
the happiest girl in the world."

"I think I know how you feel," said Nan, with a quick apprehension of
the situation; "but if I were in your place, and couldn't help myself, I
wouldn't let it trouble me much."

"Very well said," Mrs. Claiborne remarked, as she entered the room.
"Nan, you are becoming quite a philosopher. And how is Margaret?" she
inquired, kissing that blushing maiden on the check.

"I am quite well, I thank you, but I'd be a great deal better if I
thought you hadn't heard my foolish talk."

"I heard a part of it, and it wasn't foolish at all. The feeling does
you credit, provided you don't carry it too far. You are alone too
much; you take your feelings too seriously. You must remember that you
are nothing but a child; you are just beginning life. You should
cultivate bright thoughts. My dear, let me tell you one thing--if
Pulaski Tomlin had any idea that you had such feelings as you have
expressed here, he would be miserable; he would be miserable, and you
would never know it. You said something about gratitude; well if you
want to show any gratitude and make those two people happy, be happy
yourself--and if you can't really be happy, pretend that you are happy.
And the first thing you know, it will be a reality. Now, I have had
worse troubles than ever fell to your portion and if I had brooded over
them, I should have been miserable. Your lot is a very fortunate one, as
you will discover when you are older."

This advice was very good, though it may have a familiar sound to the
reader, and Margaret tried hard for the time being to follow it. She
succeeded so well that her laughter became as loud and as joyous as that
of her companions, and when she returned home, her countenance was so
free from care and worry that both Neighbour Tomlin and his sister
remarked it, and they were the happier for it.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

_Silas Tomlin Scents Trouble_

One day--it was a warm Saturday, giving promise of a long hot Sunday to
follow--Mr. Sanders was on his way home, feeling very blue indeed. He
had been to town on no particular business--the day was a half-holiday
with the field-hands--and he had wandered about aimlessly, making
several unsuccessful efforts to crack a joke or two with such
acquaintances as he chanced to meet. He had concluded that his liver was
out of order, and he wondered, as he went along, if he would create much
public comment and dissatisf