was wound round and
round with linen thread so that I could n't move a step, and Mr. Libby
cut me loose. I could have done it myself, but it seemed right and
natural that he should do it. I dare say he plumed himself upon his
service to me,--that would be natural, too. I have things enough to keep
me meek, mother!"

She did not look round at Mrs. Breen, who said, "I think you are morbid
about it."

"Yes. And I have the satisfaction of knowing that whatever people think
of Louise's giddiness, I'm, a great deal more scandalous to them than
she is simply because I wish to do some good in the world, in a way that
women have n't done it, usually."

"Now you are morbid."

"Oh, yes! Talk about men being obstacles! It's other women! There isn't
a woman in the house that would n't sooner trust herself in the hands of
the stupidest boy that got his diploma with me than she would in mine.
Louise knows it, and she feels that she has a claim upon me in being my
patient. And I 've no influence with her about her conduct because she
understands perfectly well that they all consider me much worse. She
prides herself on doing me justice. She patronizes me. She tells me that
I'm just as nice as, if I hadn't 'been through all that.'" Grace rose,
and a laugh, which was half a sob, broke from her.

Mrs. Breen could not feel the humor of the predicament. "She puts you in
a false position."

"I must go and see where that poor little wretch of a child is," said
Grace, going out of the room. She returned in an hour, and asked her
mother for the arnica. "Bella has had a bump," she explained.

"Why, have you been all this time looking for her?

"No, I couldn't find her, and I've been reading. Barlow has just brought
her in. HE could find her. She fell out of a tree, and she's frightfully
bruised."

She was making search on a closet shelf as she talked. When she
reappeared with the bottle in her hand, her mother asked, "Is n't it
very hot and close?"

"Very," said Grace.

"I should certainly think they would perish," said Mrs. Breen, hazarding
the pronoun, with a woman's confidence that her interlocutor would apply
it correctly.

When Grace had seen Bella properly bathed and brown-papered, and in
the way to forgetfulness of her wounds in sleep, she came down to the
piazza, and stood looking out to sea. The ladies appeared one by one
over the edge of the cliff, and came up, languidly stringing their
shawls after them, or clasping t