I guess you
must. His name is Lee, and his first name--I can't remember his first
name. Did you know a young man about your age in Edgham named Lee?"

"Wollaston?" asked Maria. She hardly knew her own voice.

"Yes; that is it--Wollaston. It is an odd name. How queer it will
seem to have a handsome young man for principal instead of poor old
Professor Lane. I am sorry, for my part; I liked Professor Lane. I
went to the book-store in Westbridge and bought a book for him to
read on the journey, and left it at the door. I sent in my
remembrances, and told the girl how sorry I was that Professor Lane
was not well."

"That was a good girl," said Maria. "I am glad you did." She was as
white as death, but she continued sewing steadily.

Evelyn went to the looking-glass and removed her hat, and readjusted
her flying hair around her glowing face. She did not notice her
sister's pallor and expression of shock, almost of horror, but Aunt
Maria did. Finally she spoke.

"What on earth ails you, Maria Edgham?" she said, harshly. When Aunt
Maria was anxious, she was always harsh, and seemed to regard the
object of her solicitude as a culprit.

Evelyn turned abruptly and saw her sister's face, then she ran to her
and threw her arms around her neck and pulled her head against her
shoulder. "What is it? What is it?" she cried, in her sobbing,
emotional voice, which any stress aroused.

Maria raised her head and pushed Evelyn gently away. "Nothing
whatever is the matter, dear," she said, firmly, and took up her work
again.

"Folks don't turn as white as sheets if nothing is the matter," said
Aunt Maria, still in her harsh, accusing voice. "I want to know what
is the matter. Did your dinner hurt you? You ate that lemon-pie."

"I feel perfectly well, Aunt Maria," replied Maria, making one of her
tremendous efforts of will, which actually sent the color back to her
face. She smiled as she spoke.

"You do look better," said Aunt Maria doubtfully.

"Yes, you do," said Evelyn.

"Maybe it was the light," said Aunt Maria in a reassured tone.

"There isn't much light to see to sew by, I know that," Maria said in
an off-hand tone. "I believe I will take a little run down to the
post-office for the night mail. Evelyn, you can help Aunt Maria get
supper, can't you, dear?"

"Of course I can," said Evelyn. "But are you sure you are well enough
to go alone?"

"Nonsense!" said Maria, rising and folding her work.

"Do you think anythi