to-day,
and by next week things will seem easier, and you will be settled and
rested. Your mother is my friend; for her sake I'd like to stand by you.
Will you tidy the rooms while I see to the kitchen?"

Fairly beaten, Eva walked upstairs, hating the work, the house, and
everything in general, and Mrs. Meadows, whom she considered forward, in
particular.

The next three days were trials in many ways to the doctor's household,
himself included. The meals were irregular, the food badly cooked, but
the man patiently made allowances, and was silent. It was a break in the
monotony of "sweep and cook and wash up" when Sunday arrived and the
family went to church. The tiny building was nearly filled, and many
eyes were turned on the newcomer. But she noticed no one. The old
familiar hymns brought tears to her eyes, and her thoughts stole away
from her keeping to the dear land beyond the seas. However, she rallied
and joined heartily in the last hymn, her voice ringing out above all
others.

When next she saw Mrs. Meadows the conversation turned to church and
congregation. After telling her details she thought were interesting,
Mrs. Meadows said, "You have a nice voice, Eva, but you mustn't strain
it."

[Sidenote: Eva's Top Notes]

"Do you think I do?" she replied. "I was trained at the Guildhall
School, and I suppose my master knew the limits of my voice. _He_
approved of my top notes. Perhaps you don't know what the Guildhall
School is, though," she added insolently.

"On the contrary, my father was one of the professors until he died.
Don't think that in New Zealand we are quite ignorant of the world,
Eva."

The conversation upset the girl sadly. She was vain of her voice and
anxious to make the most of it. She went into the kitchen to make a pie,
heedless that Jack had found a jar of raisins and was doing his best to
empty it as fast as he could, and that Charlie was too quiet to be out
of mischief. The paste was made according to her ability, certainly
neither light nor digestible, and was ready for the oven, when suddenly
a giggle behind her made her turn to behold that wretched boy Charlie
dressed in her blue velvet dress, best hat, and parasol.

"You wicked boy, how dare you?" she cried, stamping her foot, but the
boy fled, leaving the skirt on the floor. Picking it up, she gave chase
to recover the hat, and when at last she returned to her pie, she found
that Jack had forestalled her and made cakes for hims