erything has
changed, Colonel Pinckney," she said with a sigh. "Mrs. Pinckney has
grown decidedly cool, and I think you have opened my eyes so that I
don't love her quite as much as I did. I am sorry: I should rather have
been blind. Then--" She paused, feeling that her confidences must go no
further.

"Then," he continued, "it makes it very embarrassing that the tutor and
family physician should both have fallen in love with you."

"I think of leaving," she continued, neither admitting nor
contradicting his assertion. "Forgive me: you have spoken from the best
motives, but I think you have made trouble," she added hesitatingly.
"Mrs. Pinckney is now continually on the alert to prevent my working;
she will no longer let little Harry sleep in my room; she orders the
dinner for the first time since I've been in the house; the children
are swooped off by Adele as soon as their school-hours are over; and
everything is odd, strange and uncomfortable. I think I must go away. I
wrote an advertisement to put in the papers: perhaps you could do it
for me?" she said timidly: "I dread going to the offices."

"Certainly," he replied courteously, and put it in his pocket.

Colonel Pinckney appeared to share her depression, and he sat for some
time silent: then he said in an agitated voice, "It will be a sorrowful
day for that house when you leave it: I never knew such a
transformation as you have effected. Until this winter my only
associations with it have been of dirt, gloom and disorder: the
children were neglected and fretful, the dinners shocking and ill
served; and this with an army of servants and money spent _ad libitum_.
Now, on the contrary, the rooms are fresh, cheerful and agreeable;
there are pleasant odors, bright fires, attractive meals; the children
perfect both in appearance and manner; and all this owing to the
influence--perhaps I ought to say labors--of one young, inexperienced
girl. I've always imagined I disliked efficient women: I've changed my
mind. When I was young a fair, indolent creature, always well dressed
and smiling, was my beau ideal: now a brunette, bright and
energetic--some one who never thinks of herself, but is making
everybody else happy and comfortable--this is my present divinity." He
smiled tenderly upon her.

Miss Featherstone endeavored to shake off her embarrassment. He was a
frank, kind-hearted man, entirely unlike his sister-in-law's idea of
him, with an exaggerated gratitude for