love Edie."

But there were the boys to be told after that--Alfred and Claude, the
two bright boys of ten and eight years, who had been her own especial
playmates; and loud was their outcry when they heard that Edith was
going.

"We might as well have no sisters," said the ungrateful young rascals.
"Maude and Jessie don't care for us. They only think we're in the way.
They're always telling us to wipe our feet, and not make such a noise;
and Francie's too little for anything. We'd only got Edith, and now
she's to go. It's too bad, that it is!"

But their protest availed nothing. The very same night Dr. Harley wrote
to his sister, thanking her for her kind offer, and adding that, if
convenient, he would bring his daughter Edith, fifteen years of age, to
her aunt's home at Silchester in a week's time.

There was much to do in that short week in getting Edith's wardrobe into
something like order. Each of the elder sisters sacrificed one of their
limited number of dresses to be cut down and altered for the younger
one.

The May sunshine of a rather late spring was beginning to grow warm and
genial at last, and the girl really must have a new hat and gloves and
shoes, and one or two print frocks, before she could possibly put in an
appearance at Aunt Rachel's.

Almost anything had done for running about the lanes at Winchcomb, where
every one knew the Harleys, and respected them far more for not going
beyond their means, than they would have done for any quantity of fine
apparel.

[Sidenote: Goodbye!]

But the preparations were finished at last, the goodbyes were said, and
Edith, leaving home for the first time in her life, sat gravely by her
father's side in the train that was timed to reach Silchester by six in
the evening.

She had been up very early that morning, before any of the others were
astir; and when she was dressed, went out into the garden, where she
could be alone, to think her last thoughts of the wonderful change in
her life.

She had gone on always so carelessly and happily, that the new turn of
affairs sobered and startled her. She seemed to herself to say goodbye,
not only to her home, but to the long, bright, happy childhood that had
been spent there. And her thoughts were full of the few words Mrs.
Harley had spoken about her papa's expenses and worries.

"If I had only known," she said to herself; "if I had only thought about
things, I would have tried to learn more, and be some help whi