bad leg so long."

"But father says himself that he can't do as much since his accident,
and he doesn't want to be paid beyond what he earns," Nancy explained,
hastily.

Mrs. Dodd began to fold up Emma's dress, remarking, as she did so, "It's
a queer go as Mr. Hurst should have let young Mr. Fred do nothink but
music; but, to be sure, he do play beautiful. My Benny, as blows the
organ for him, says it's 'eavenly what he makes up himself. He's
uncommon handsome, too; much like his mother, who was, poor young lady,
a heap too good for the likes of Jacob Hurst. She used to play the
church organ like the angel Gabriel."

Mrs. Dodd glanced at Nancy to see the effect of this simile, which was
quite an inspiration, but the girl was intent on smoothing the creases
out of her very old and much-mended kid gloves.

"Folks do say, Miss Nancy," went on Mrs. Dodd, "as young Mr. Fred had a
fancy for you at one time, and as you sent him to the rightabouts. Now,
I say as--"

"Oh, please don't say anything about it, Mrs. Dodd," broke out Nancy,
excitedly. "It's all a mistake--I am not his equal in any way--he never
thought of anything like that." She would have added, "Nor I;" but she
was too truthful. An overwhelming sense of shame came over her. How
could she have given her heart away unsought!

With a hasty good-night she left the shop, closing the door so sharply
in her self-condemnation as to set the little bell upon it ringing as if
it had gone mad. She could hear its metallic tinkle till she was close
upon the church. Here other sounds filled her ears. There was a light in
the church, and Fred Hurst was there playing one of Bach's Fugues.

Nancy's heart fluttered like a captive bird. For a brief space she
leaned against the cold railings, looking intently at a branch of ivy
which the north wind was tossing against the diamond-shaped panes of the
window--then she drew herself up hastily and proudly, and walked on
rapidly towards the bleak hills which she must cross to reach her
father's farm at Braley Brook.

"How I wish I was out of my time," she said to herself, as the crisp
snow crackled beneath her small feet. "I could go away then and earn my
living, where I could never see him--or hear him--. Oh, Fred!" she broke
out in what was almost a cry, "_why_ have you met me and walked with me
so often, if you meant to leave off and say no more? It must be because
my dress has grown so shabby--I don't look so--so nice as I di