eing that it was impossible for her to get away, Sue sat down
resignedly. "Well, as Ikey says," she observed, "'sometimes t'ings go
awful fine, und sometimes she don't.'"

Now, Farvel came breezing in. "I've found a minister, Miss Milo," he
announced. Then realizing that something untoward had happened,
"Why,--where's Wallace?"

"He has followed Miss Crosby," answered Mrs. Milo, speaking the name
with exaggerated distinctness.

"Miss Crosby?" Farvel was puzzled.

"Miss--_Clare_--Crosby."

He turned to Sue, and she rose and came to him--smiling, and with a
certain confidential air that was calculated either to rescue him from
a catechism or to result in her own banishment from the room. "Do you
know that you haven't dictated this morning's letters?" she asked. And
touching him on the arm, "Shan't we go into the library now?"

"Susan," purred Mrs. Milo.

"Yes, mother." But Sue, halting beside Farvel, continued to talk to
him animatedly, in an undertone.

"Will you kindly see that Dora understands about dinner preparations?"

"Hattie, do you mind ringing?"

Mrs. Milo held up a slender hand to check Hattie. "Susan," she went
on, patiently, "do you want your mother to do the trotting after the
servants?"

"No, mother. But Mr. Farvel's letters----"

Now that quick, mechanical smile, and Mrs. Milo tipped her head to one
side as she regarded the clergyman in pretty concern. "Mr. Farvel is
in no mood for dictation," she declared gently; "and--I am quite
exhausted, as you know." But as Sue hurried away, not lifting her
eyes, lest she betray how glad she was to be dismissed, her mother
rose--and there was no appearance of the complained-of exhaustion. Her
eyes shone with eagerness. They fastened themselves on Farvel's face.
"That Miss Crosby," she began; "--she came, recognized Wallace, gave a
cry--and ran."

Farvel listened politely. Mrs. Milo was so prone to be dramatic.
There was scarcely a day that some warning of Wolf! Wolf! did not ring
through the Rectory. "Well, what seemed to be the matter?" he asked.

"I thought you might know,"--with just a trace of emphasis on the You.

"I don't," he assured her, quietly.

"Then why not go yourself--and get the facts?"

"Wallace didn't ask me."

There was something in the tone of his reply that brought the blood to
her cheeks. She replied to it by making her own tone a little chiding.
"But as my boy's oldest friend," she reminded.

Farvel laughe