lls find them indispensable: _this_ shall be the handsomest one of
the season--worth, at least four dollars."

CHAPTER III.

THE MORNING ERRAND.

After the slender ivory needles had traversed the fleecy mesh backwards
and forwards some three or four times, May suddenly bethought herself
of Helen, and laying her work carefully down in her basket, she ran
upstairs to see if she was awake. Turning the knob of the door softly,
she entered with a noiseless step, and went towards the bed; but a low,
merry laugh, and a "good morning," assured her that her kind caution
had all been needless.

"Dear Helen, how are you to-day?"

"Very well, thank you, little lady, how do you do, and what time is it?"

"Half-past nine. You need your breakfast, I am sure. Shall I fetch it
to you?"

"Just tell me, first, have you a fire downstairs?"

"A very nice one!"

"And we can't have one here?"

"Decidedly--no."

"Decidedly, then, I shall accompany you downstairs, if that horrid old
man is gone. Oh, I never was so terrified in my life; I thought he'd
beat me last night. Is he gone?"

"Uncle Stillinghast has been gone an hour or more," replied May,
gravely.

"Do tell me, May, does he always jump and snarl so at folk as he did at
me?" inquired Helen; seriously.

"I see that I must initiate you, dear Helen, in the mysteries of our
domicile," said May, pleasantly. "I must be plain with you, and hope
you will not feel wounded at my speech. Our uncle is very eccentric,
and says a great many sharp, disagreeable things; and his manners,
generally, do not invite affection. But, on the other hand, I do not
think his health is quite sound, and I have heard that in his early
life he met with some terrible disappointments, which have doubtless
soured him. He knows nothing of the consolations of religion, or of
those divine hopes which would sweeten the bitter fountains of his
heart, like the leaves which the prophet threw into Marah's wave. His
commerce is altogether with and of the world, and he spares no time for
superfluous feelings: but notwithstanding all this there is, _I am
sure_, a warm, bright spot in his heart, or he never would have taken
you and me from the cold charities of the world, to shelter and care
for us. Now, dear, you _must_ endeavor to fall in with his humor."

"And if I should happen to please him?" inquired Helen, sweeping back
the golden curls from her forehead and cheeks.

"You will be happy