ruction.'"

Mary Leonard and Lucy Eastman threw back their heads and laughed; it was
genuine, low, fresh laughter, and a good thing to hear. After that there
was silence for a few moments as the train sped on its way.

"I declare," said Mary Leonard, at last, "I don't know when I've been in
the cars before."

"I was just thinking I haven't been in the cars since Sister Eliza died,
and we all went to the funeral," said Lucy Eastman.

"Why, that's--let me see--eight years ago, isn't it?"

"Eight and a half."

"Well, I'm glad you'll have a pleasanter trip to look back on after
this."

"So am I; and I am enjoying this--every minute of it. Only there's so
much to see. Just look at the people looking out of the windows of that
manufactory! Shouldn't you think they'd roast?"

"Yes, they must be hotter than a fritter such a day as this."

"How long is it since you've been to Englefield, Mary?" asked Lucy
Eastman, after another pause.

"Why, that's what I meant to tell you. Do you know, after I saw you, and
we decided to go there for our holiday, I began to think it over, and I
haven't been there since we went together the last time."

"Why, Mary Leonard! I had an idea you'd been there time and again,
though you said you hadn't seen the old place for a long time."

"Well, I was surprised myself when I realized it. But the next year my
cousins all moved away, and I've thought of it over and over, but I
haven't _been_. I dare say if we'd lived in the same town we'd have
gone together before this, but we haven't, and there it is."

"That's thirty-five years ago, Mary," said Lucy Eastman, thoughtfully.

"Thirty-five years! I declare, it still makes me jump to hear about
thirty-five years--just as if I hadn't known all about 'em!" and Mary
Leonard laughed her comfortable laugh again. "You don't say it's
thirty-five years, Lucy! I guess you're right, though."

There was a moment's pause, and the laugh died away into a little sigh.

"We didn't think then--we didn't really _think_--we'd ever be talking
about what happened thirty-five years ago, did we, Lucy? We didn't think
we'd have interest enough to care."

"No," said Lucy, soberly, "we didn't."

"And I care just as much as I ever did about things," went on the other,
thoughtfully, "only there seem more doors for satisfaction to come in at
nowadays. It isn't quite the same sort of satisfaction, perhaps, that
it used to be, not so pressed down and running over, bu