forget my old friends, whatever happens," she said,
in a trembling voice, and it might have all been different had they
not then arrived at Cynthia Lennox's.

"Shall I wait and go home with you, Ellen?" Granville asked,
timidly.

"No, thank you. I don't know how long I shall stay," Ellen replied.
"You are real kind, but I am not a bit afraid."

"It is sort of lonesome going past the shops."

"I can take a car," Ellen said. She extended her hand to Granville,
and he grasped it firmly.

"Good-night, Ellen; I am always glad of any good fortune that may
come to you," he said.

But Granville Joy, going alone down the brilliant street, past the
blaze of the shop-windows and the knots of loungers on the corners,
reflected that he had seen the fiery tip of a cigar on the Lennox
veranda, that it might be possible that young Lloyd was there, since
Miss Lennox was his aunt, and that possibly the aunt's sending Ellen
to Vassar might bring about something in that quarter which would
not otherwise have happened, and he writhed at the fancy of that
sort of good fortune for Ellen, but held his mind to it resolutely
as to some terrible but necessary grindstone for the refinement of
spirit. "It would be a heap better for her," he said to himself,
quite loud, and two men whom he was passing looked at him curiously.
"Drunk," said one to the other.

When he was on his homeward way he overtook a slender girl
struggling along with a kerosene-can in one hand and a package of
sugar in the other, and, seeing that it was Abby Atkins, he
possessed himself of both. She only laughed and did not start. Abby
Atkins was not of the jumping or screaming kind, her nerves were so
finely balanced that they recovered their equilibrium, after
surprises, before she had time for manifestations. There was a
curious healthfulness about the slender, wiry little creature who
was overworked and under-fed, a healthfulness which seemed to result
from the action of the mind upon a meagre body.

"Hullo, Granville Joy!" she said, in her good-comrade fashion, and
the two went on together. Presently Abby looked up in his face.

"Know about Ellen?" said she. Granville nodded.

"Well, I'm glad of it, aren't you?" Abby said, in a challenging
tone.

"Yes, I am," replied Granville, meeting her look firmly.

Suddenly he felt Abby's little, meagre, bony hand close over the
back of his, holding the kerosene-can. "You're a good fellow,
Granville Joy," said she.