e day last
summer. And she was so sweet-looking I stopped and spoke to her--I
couldn't help it. She had beautiful eyes, and the softest light
curls, and she was dressed so pretty, and the flowers on her hat
were nice. The embroidery on her dress was very fine, too. Usually,
you know, those people don't care about the fineness, as long as it
is wide, and showy, and bright-colored. I asked her what her name
was, and she answered just as pretty, and her mother told me how old
she was. Her mother was a handsome woman, though she had an
up-and-coming kind of way with her. But she seemed real pleased to
have me notice the child. Where do you suppose she was all that
time, Cynthia?"

"She was in some safe place, undoubtedly," said Risley, and again
Mrs. Lloyd felt that she was snubbed, though not seeing how nor why,
and again she rebelled with that soft and gentle persistency in her
own course which was the only rebellion of which she was capable.

"Where do you suppose she was, Cynthia?" said she.

"I think some woman must have seen her, and coaxed her in and kept
her, she was such a pretty child," said Cynthia, defiantly and
desperately. But the other woman looked at her in wonder.

"Oh, Cynthia, I can't believe that," said she. "It don't seem as if
any woman could be so bad as that when the child's mother was in
such agony over her." And then she added, "I can't believe it,
because it seems to me that if any woman was bad enough to do that,
she couldn't have given her up at all, she was such a beautiful
child." Mrs. Norman Lloyd had no children of her own, and was given
to gazing with eyes of gentle envy at pretty, rosy little girls,
frilled with white embroidery like white pinks, dancing along in
leading hands of maternal love. "It don't seem to me I could ever
have given her up, if I had once been bad enough to steal her," she
said. "What put such an idea into your head, Cynthia?"

When the church-bell clanged out just then Lyman Risley had never
been so thankful in his life. Mrs. Lloyd rose promptly, for she had
to lead the meeting, that being the custom among the sisters in her
church. "Well," said she, "I am thankful she is found, anyway; I
couldn't have slept a wink that night if I had known she was lost,
the dear little thing. Good-night, Cynthia; don't come to the door.
Good-night, Mr. Risley. Come and see me, Cynthia--do, dear."

When Mrs. Norman Lloyd was gone, Risley looked at Cynthia with a
long breath