was sixteen in 1862."

"Then," said Helen, "you are twenty-seven, and I am twenty-five."

"I knew it--I felt it!" exclaimed Hallie, with pensive animation.

Helen was amused and somewhat interested. She admired the peculiar
beauty of Hallie; but the efforts of the latter to repress her feelings,
to reach, as it were, the results of self-effacement, were not at all
pleasing to the Boston girl.

Mrs. Garwood and Miss Tewksbury found themselves on good terms at once.
A course of novel reading, seasoned with reflection, had led Miss
Tewksbury to believe that Southern ladies of the first families
possessed in a large degree the Oriental faculty of laziness. She had
pictured them in her mind as languid creatures, with a retinue of
servants to carry their smelling-salts, and to stir the tropical air
with palm-leaf fans. Miss Tewksbury was pleased rather than disappointed
to find that Mrs. Garwood did not realize her idea of a Southern woman.
The large, lumbering carriage was something, and the antiquated driver
threatened to lead the mind in a somewhat romantic direction; but both
were shabby enough to be regarded as relics and reminders rather than as
active possibilities.

Mrs. Garwood was bright and cordial, and the air of refinement about her
was pronounced and unmistakable. Miss Tewksbury told her that Dr. Buxton
had recommended Azalia as a sanitarium.

"Ephraim Buxton!" exclaimed Mrs. Garwood. "Why, you don't tell me that
Ephraim Buxton is practising medicine in Boston? And do you really know
him? Why, Ephraim Buxton was my first sweetheart!"

Mrs. Garwood's laugh was pleasant to hear, and her blushes were worth
looking at as she referred to Dr. Buxton. Miss Tewksbury laughed
sympathetically but primly.

"It was quite romantic," Mrs. Garwood went on, an a half-humorous,
half-confidential tone. "Ephraim was the school teacher here, and I was
his eldest scholar. He was young, green, and awkward, but the
best-hearted, most generous mortal I ever saw. I made quite a hero of
him."

"Well," said Miss Tewksbury, in her matter-of-fact way, "I have never
seen anything very heroic about Dr. Buxton. He comes and goes, and
prescribes his pills, like all other doctors."

"Ah, that was forty years ago," said Mrs. Garwood, laughing. "A hero can
become very commonplace in forty years. Dr. Buxton must be a dear, good
man. Is he married?"

"No," said Miss Tewksbury. "He has been wise in his day and generation."

"What a pi