gh it was April, and Andrew was
drawing on his savings. Fanny had surreptitiously answered an
advertisement purporting to give instructions to women as to the
earning of large sums of money at home, and was engaged with a stock
of glass and paints which she hurriedly swept out of sight when any
one's shadow passed the window, and later she found herself to be
the victim of a small swindling conspiracy, and lost the dollar
which she had invested. But Ellen knew nothing of all this. She
lacked none of her accustomed necessaries nor luxuries, and with her
school a new life full of keen, new savors or relish began for her.
There were also new affections in it.

Ellen was as yet too young, and too confident in love, to have new
affections plunge her into anything but a delightful sort of
anti-blossom tumult. There was no suspense, no doubt, no jealousy,
only utter acquiescence of single-heartedness, admiration, and
trust. She thought Abby Atkins and Floretta Vining lovely and
dependable; she parted from them at night without a pang, and looked
forward blissfully to the meeting next morning. She also had
sentiments equally peaceful and pronounced, though instinctively
more secret, towards Granville Joy. She used to glance over towards
the boys' side and meet his side-long eyes without so much a
quickening of her pulses as a quickening of her imagination.

"I know who your beau is," Floretta Vining, who was in advance of
her years, said to her once, and Ellen looked at her with
half-stupid wonder.

"His first name begins with a G and his last with a J," Floretta
tittered, and Ellen continued to look at her with the faintest
suspicion of a blush, because she had a feminine instinct that a
blush was in order, not because she knew of any reason for it.

"He is," said Floretta, with another exceedingly foolish giggle.
"My, you are as red as a beet."

"I ain't old enough to have a beau," Ellen said, her soft cheeks
becoming redder, and her baby face all in a tremor.

"Yes, you be," Floretta said, with authority, "because you are so
pretty, and have got such pretty curls. Ben Simonds said the other
day you were the prettiest girl in school."

"Then do you think he is my beau, too?" asked Ellen, innocently. But
Floretta frowned, and tittered, and hesitated.

"He said except one," she faltered out, finally.

"Well, who was that?" asked Ellen.

"How do I know?" pouted Floretta. "Mebbe it was me, though I don't
think I'm s