yearning for
tenderness of the past lonely years was finding an outlet in the bitter,
bitter sobs which shook her slight frame.

Although Miss Preston knew comparatively little of the girl's former life,
she had learned enough from Mr. Reeve, and observed enough in the girl
herself, to understand that this outburst was not wholly the result of
what had just passed between them. So, gently stroking the pretty golden
hair, she wisely waited for the grief to spend itself before she resumed
her talk, and, when the poor little trembling figure was more composed,
said:

"My poor little Toinette, let us begin a brand new leaf to-day--'thee and
me,' as the Quakers so prettily put it. Let us try to believe that even
though I have spent thirty more years on this big world than you have,
that we can still be good friends, and sympathize with each other either
in sunshine or shadow. To do this two things are indispensible: confidence
and love. And we can never have the latter without first winning the
former. Remember this, dear, I shall never doubt you. Whatever happens,
you may rest firm in the conviction that I shall always accept your word
when it is given. Our self-respect suffers when we are doubted, and one's
self-respect is a very precious thing, and not to be lightly tampered
with."

[Illustration: "LET US BEGIN A BRAND NEW LEAF TO-DAY."]

She now drew Toinette back to the couch beside her, put her arm about her
waist, and let the tired head rest upon her shoulder. The girl had ceased
to sob, but looked worn and weary. Miss Preston snuggled her close and
waited for her to speak, feeling sure that more was in her heart, and
that, in a nature such as she felt Toinette's to be, it would be
impossible for her to rest content until all doubts, all self-reproach
could be put behind her.

She sat perfectly still for a long time, her hands clasped in her lap, and
her big, brown eyes, into which had crept a wonderfully soft expression,
looking far away beyond the walls of Miss Preston's sitting-room, far
beyond the bedroom next it, and off to some lonely, unsatisfied years,
when she had lived in a sort of truce with all about her, never knowing
just when hostilities might be renewed. It had acted upon the girl's
sensitive nature much as a chestnut-prickle acts upon the average mortal;
a nasty, little, irritating thing, hard to discover, a scrap of a thing
when found--if, indeed, it does not succeed in eluding one altogether--