ou," and she did.

My own curiosity led me into the room--I had stood back of the door all
this time--and the silk was beautiful; rich dark shades and fancy colors
mingled, and a quantity of it too. Although kept so long, it was strong,
having been of such fine material.

"Sakes alive! I should be scar't to death to own all that," said Jane.

"Well," said Clara, "if you will show me how to knit some for myself, I
will be willing to scare you a little. I would like to give you enough
to make a pair or two of stockings for yourself. Chose your own colors,"
and she emptied the contents of the box on the lounge at her side.

"You don't mean it, Mis' De-mond."

"Certainly I do, take any shade you prefer, and if Emily has needles, we
will go right to work on our cutting."

The right string was touched, the cutting started, and when Jane North
left us, she whispered to me:

"I like that woman, and I don't care whether she is a Baptist, or what
she is, she's a lady."

Those stockings averted much, for her head was full of wonder talk.

I reminded Clara of the indignation she felt at her expressions, when
she first saw her, and told her I did not suppose she ever would desire
to look at her again.

"Why, Emily," she said, "I never feel like annihilating people whose
ideas are all wrong. They are but representatives at the most, and I
would rather desire to help these eaters of husks to find the true bread
that shall bring to them comfort and peace. I should wish to fill their
hearts so full that the rays of this inner light shall radiate around
them, touching with the magic of good deeds all the suffering our world
contains. This would leave no empty rooms in the house of our
understanding; all would be filled with tenants of good-will and loving
faith, bearing charity and love each toward the other; and uncultivated
fields would be found no more. I thought if I could touch Miss North in
the right spot, I might fill her mind, for a few brief hours at least,
with something beside her gossip. If this could be done every day in the
week, she would lose sight of it altogether, and like a tree engrafted
with better fruit, on these new thought-branches beautiful wisdom
apples might grow and ripen. If she comes again I will find something
as new to her, I hope, as I have found to-day."

"What a wonderful compound you are, Clara," I said, "and what perfect
symmetry nature has given to you, while I am your antipodes."

"Wha