en white, before the other color had beclouded them.
Over this, as if apologizing and condoning, streamed the sombre veil,
more suitable for a widow than for that round-faced child. But Lucy drew
it about her with a tender touch, as she sat apart, and Camille could
plainly note her satisfaction in its heavy folds.

The latter at once began her work of distribution, that these older
people might be disposed of before the school children should come
trooping in. When Lucy's turn arrived, and she took her place before the
little railing, like a veiled oriental mute, Camille looked down upon
her with an air of good comradeship, and said,

"I know you'll want something bright and wide awake. I don't believe you
like doleful books any better than I do."

Lucy's demure face lightened, but she seemed to hesitate for a reply.

"I did like that kind," she said finally, "but now I don't know. Mis'
Hemphill said I ought to read something sober, nowadays. There's a book
about a girl that was took up because they thought she'd killed her
father, and they tried to torment and torture her into telling."

"Good gracious! Such a book would be the death of you. Is she crazy?
I'll pick you out something. Now, here's the loveliest story! It's about
two merry, sensible girls who found themself obliged to earn their own
living. They did not sit down and cry, but just went about it, as gay
and jolly as you please, and they had lots of funny adventures, but
conquered in the end. I know you'd like it."

Lucy looked at the volume wistfully.

"Do you think I ought to?" she whispered.

"Of course I do. Why not? Look it over, at least."

She took the book, dipped into it here and there, looked at the
illustrations, then glanced up with a flushing cheek.

"I know I'd like it and, if you say so--"

"Certainly I say so. What's its number?"

"One hundred and twenty."

"All right. Now, you read every word of it, and tell me how you like it
when you bring it back, will you?"

Lucy tucked it carefully under her veil, but lingered.

"Isn't Miss Lav'lotte going to be here to-day?"

"No, I think she went into the city, probably to see Mr. Nate Tierney."

Camille spoke deliberately, turning to replace a volume in the large
pine case as she did so.

"Do--do you know where 'tis she goes to see him?" asked the girl in a
low voice, glancing about her with a furtive air.

Camille looked at her quickly.

"Don't you know? Haven't they told you