e. Now and then he
glanced across the room at Maria, whose narrow shoulders he could
see bent painfully over her work. He was in love with Maria, but no
one suspected it, least of all Maria herself.

"Lord! don't talk about the New Testament. Them days is past,"
growled the man on the other side of Joy.

"They ain't past for me," said John Sargent, stoutly. A dark flush
rose to his cheek as if he were making a confession of love.

"Lord! don't preach," said the other man, with a sneer.

Ellen had stopped work with the rest when Robert addressed them.
Then she recommenced her stitching without a word. Her thoughts were
in confusion. She had so long held one attitude towards him that she
could not readily adjust herself to another. She was cramped with
the extreme narrowness of the enthusiasm of youth. At noontime she
heard all the talk which went on about him. She heard some praise
him, and some speak of him as simply doing his manifest duty, and
some say openly that he should have put the wages back upon the
former footing, and she did not know which was right. He did not
come near her, and she was very glad of that. She felt that she
could not bear it to have him speak to her before them all.

When she went home at night the news had preceded her. Fanny and
Andrew looked up eagerly when she entered. "I hear he has
compromised," said Andrew, with doubtful eyes on the girl's face.

"Yes; he has cut the wages five instead of ten per cent.," replied
Ellen, and it was impossible to judge of her feelings by her voice.
She took off her hat and smoothed her hair.

"Well, I am glad he has done that much," said Fanny, "but I won't
say a word as long as you ain't hurt."

With that she went into the kitchen, and Ellen and Andrew heard the
dishes rattle. "Your mother's been dreadful nervous," whispered
Andrew. He looked at Ellen meaningly. Both of them thought of poor
Eva Tenny. Lately the reports with regard to her had been more
encouraging, but she was still in the asylum.

Suddenly, as they stood there, a swift shadow passed the window, and
they heard a shrill scream from up-stairs. It sounded like "Mamma,
mamma!" "It's Amabel!" cried Ellen. She clutched her father by the
arm. "Oh, what is it--who is it?" she whispered, fearfully.

Andrew was suddenly white and horror-stricken. He took hold of
Ellen, and pushed her forcibly before him into the parlor. "You stay
in there till I call you," he said, in a commanding voi