oing to her aunt and kneeling, she
bowed her head in that good old soul's lap, and burst into tears. It may
be that the hand which stroked her fair head at this outbreak recalled
her mother's, for she only sobbed the harder. It did not last long,
however, and when the storm was over she arose and said:

"There, auntie, I've been spoiling for a good cry all day, and now I've
had it and feel better."

But did she? Let those who can put themselves in her place, with her
proud spirit and loving heart, answer the question.

And here it is time and fit to speak of her brother, toward whom her
heart had always turned when in trouble, and not in vain. Of the jest
that Frank had made regarding the island girl Albert had fallen in love
with, she thought but little. That he might marry in due time she
expected as a matter of course; that it would make any difference in his
feelings towards her she did not for one moment consider. Now she fell
to thinking what a void it would make in her life if his thoughts and
affection were centred elsewhere. Then she began wondering why he had
failed to write as often as usual during the past six weeks. She had
known his plans for the yachting-trip and imagined his letter announcing
its failure and his return to work an expression of disappointment.
Since then he had written but once, telling her that he was overwhelmed
with business and enclosing a check, but failing to enclose any but the
briefest expression of love.

Life with Alice was at best a lonesome one, and Sunday, with its simple
services in the village church, the singing in the choir, and pleasant
nods from all she met, the only break in its monotony. Now during summer
vacation time it was worse than ever, and she began counting the days
until school opened again. Once, with Aunt Susan for company, she had
visited the old mill-pond, and rowing the boat herself, had gathered an
ample supply of lilies, only to come home so depressed she did not speak
once during the four-mile drive. She had written Frank an account of the
trip, but failed to mention that she had landed at a certain point and
sat on the bank and shed a few tears while Aunt Susan waited in the boat
and sorted the lilies. She had enclosed a wee little lily bud in this
letter, but not a word by which he could infer that her heart was very
hungry for--some one.

[Illustration: THE OLD MILL]

But all things, and all series of days, be they filled with joy or
sorrow,