head very straight,
"you would not say that if you knew what it was to lose a--friend, by
death. At least Mr. Ward is alive, even if Helen cannot see him. Ah, dear
me! Well, I wonder how Adele Dale feels now? I should be miserable if we
had such a thing happen in our family. A husband and wife quarrel, and
separate! Shocking!"

"But there is no quarrel, you know," Gifford protested slowly, and for
the third or fourth time.

But Miss Deborah brushed this aside. "They are separated; it is the same
thing. In our family, an unhappy marriage was never known. Even when your
grandfather's sister married a Bellingham,--and of course everybody knows
the Bellingham temper,--and they quarreled, just three weeks to a day
after the wedding, she never thought of such a disgraceful thing as
leaving him. I have heard dear mamma say she never spoke to him again,
except when she had to ask for money; that almost killed her, she was so
proud. But she never would have lowered herself by leaving him. Yes, this
is really most improper in poor dear Helen."

Miss Deborah's feelings vibrated, even while she was making the jelly,
and though it was finally sent, she balanced her kindness by saying to
Mrs. Dale that it did not seem just right for a young thing like Lois to
know of such a painful affair. It gave Miss Deborah so much pleasure to
say this to her old enemy that she made excuses for Helen for a whole day
afterwards.

Late that afternoon Gifford went to say good-by at the rectory. It was
a still, hazy August day, with a hint of autumn in the air; sometimes a
yellowing leaf floated slowly down, or one would notice that the square
tower of St. Michael's could be seen, and that the ivy which covered its
south side was beginning to redden.

Miss Helen was not at home, Jean said. She thought she'd gone up to the
graveyard,--she most always went there.

So Gifford started in search of her. "She ought not to be alone so much,"
he thought, and he wondered, with a man's dullness in such matters, why,
if she and Lois had made up after that one quarrel, they were not the
same tender friends. He met Lois at the rectory gate. She was coming from
the village, and there was a look in her face which gave him a sudden
jealous pain. She held a letter in her hand, and her eyes were running
over with happiness; her lips smiled so that they almost broke into
laughter as she spoke.

"Something seems to make you very happy, Lois?" he said.

"It doe