very
young and beautiful, leaving three little children."

It was hard to realize that so much had happened to this bright-eyed
girl; Frances wrinkled her brow in the effort, and sat very still. After
a while she said, "I am glad her name was Frances; she always makes me
think of the Girl in the Golden Doorway."

"What is that?" Mrs. Marvin inquired.

"It is one of father's stories," was the answer, and without much urging
she told it, and told it well, because she was so fond of it. "It makes
me want to see him so," she added with a sigh, at the end.

Mrs. Marvin listened, her face almost hidden by the screen she held.
"Did your father ever tell you anything more of his childhood?" she
asked.

"Not very much. He went to live somewhere else, I think, and I don't
know what became of the picture. There is something about it I don't
understand, but some time I know he will tell me. I think a certain
person has something to do with it."

"Whom do you mean by a certain person?"

"It is some one who was once a friend of father's, but is not now. That
is all I know, except that I heard him tell mother he did not mind our
staying here, because a certain person was abroad; but I guess maybe I
oughtn't to say anything about it," Frances concluded uneasily.

The conversation was interrupted by a servant who announced a young man
to take the little girl home.

"It is Mark," Frances exclaimed, jumping up.

While they had been talking the wind had grown quiet, and the rain had
turned to a wet snow. Mark had brought her waterproof and overshoes, but
Mrs. Marvin insisted upon ordering the carriage. She held Frances in her
arms and kissed her as if she could not bear to let her go.

"I have had a beautiful time, and I am so much obliged for the roses,"
the child said, when at last she was released.

They drove home in state through the wet streets. "I tell you this is
fine!" said Mark; "I mean to be rich some day."

"So do I," replied Frances from behind her roses, and neither of them
dreamed what a lonely heart they had left behind them in that beautiful
house.

CHAPTER FIFTEENTH.

A CONFIDENCE.

This second encounter with Mrs. Marvin both annoyed and puzzled Mrs.
Morrison. It had come about naturally enough, yet she could not help
feeling that this lady's interest in a child she had not seen or heard
of six weeks ago was extraordinary; and though she did not wish to spoil
Frances' pleasure in her roses, sh