med softness crept into
her face.

"Poor little soul," she murmured, lifting a loose curl of hair from the
child's tear-stained face. Then she bent down and kissed the flushed
cheek on the pillow.

CHAPTER XVII. A New Interest in Life

THE next afternoon Anne, bending over her patchwork at the kitchen
window, happened to glance out and beheld Diana down by the Dryad's
Bubble beckoning mysteriously. In a trice Anne was out of the house
and flying down to the hollow, astonishment and hope struggling in
her expressive eyes. But the hope faded when she saw Diana's dejected
countenance.

"Your mother hasn't relented?" she gasped.

Diana shook her head mournfully.

"No; and oh, Anne, she says I'm never to play with you again. I've cried
and cried and I told her it wasn't your fault, but it wasn't any use. I
had ever such a time coaxing her to let me come down and say good-bye to
you. She said I was only to stay ten minutes and she's timing me by the
clock."

"Ten minutes isn't very long to say an eternal farewell in," said Anne
tearfully. "Oh, Diana, will you promise faithfully never to forget
me, the friend of your youth, no matter what dearer friends may caress
thee?"

"Indeed I will," sobbed Diana, "and I'll never have another bosom
friend--I don't want to have. I couldn't love anybody as I love you."

"Oh, Diana," cried Anne, clasping her hands, "do you LOVE me?"

"Why, of course I do. Didn't you know that?"

"No." Anne drew a long breath. "I thought you LIKED me of course but I
never hoped you LOVED me. Why, Diana, I didn't think anybody could
love me. Nobody ever has loved me since I can remember. Oh, this is
wonderful! It's a ray of light which will forever shine on the darkness
of a path severed from thee, Diana. Oh, just say it once again."

"I love you devotedly, Anne," said Diana stanchly, "and I always will,
you may be sure of that."

"And I will always love thee, Diana," said Anne, solemnly extending her
hand. "In the years to come thy memory will shine like a star over my
lonely life, as that last story we read together says. Diana, wilt
thou give me a lock of thy jet-black tresses in parting to treasure
forevermore?"

"Have you got anything to cut it with?" queried Diana, wiping away the
tears which Anne's affecting accents had caused to flow afresh, and
returning to practicalities.

"Yes. I've got my patchwork scissors in my apron pocket fortunately,"
said Anne. She solemnly clipped on