g-room, where Pearl and the doctor sat
without speaking, and just as her mother was about to go to join them,
she said:

"I believe there's cream for a churnin', ma, it will be too sour
before Monday. If you come out and stay with me, I'll do it, but I
hate to work alone."

As she flung the cream from end to end of the barrel-churn, while her
mother sat beside her mending the boys' shirts for the Sabbath, Mary
said to herself:

"A sister is born for adversity, too--you bet." Meanwhile, the doctor
and Pearl, left alone, had broken the silence which fell upon them at
first.

"Come out for a ride, Pearl," he said at last. "Saturday is the
teacher's happy day, and I haven't seen you for months--not to speak
to you--and I want to hear all about what you've been doing. You
haven't told me yet that you are glad I was elected."

"But I wrote you a note, didn't I?"

"Oh yes indeed, you did," he agreed, "but you know even the best notes
in the world lack color--or something."

"Even roses," said Pearl, "lack something too, though it isn't color."

"You will come, won't you, Pearl?" he urged.

Pearl sat on the flowered lounge, looking at him intently.

"Just wait a minute, doctor," she said, "your explanation of slivers
and their treatment interests me very much. I think I had better
consult you now as my physician. I have never had a physician, but it
would no doubt be you if I should need one."

"Thank you, Miss Watson," he said, quite gravely, "I appreciate the
compliment," and waited for her to speak.

"I have a sliver, too," she said at last. "No, not in my foot. It is
in my heart, and I am afraid I have been trying the foolish way of
letting it work out. You are quite right in saying it is slow, and
painful--and attracts attention to itself. It does. Now that day, the
second day of March, you and I had some serious conversation. I didn't
understand why you said what you did. I don't yet. I am sure you
said what you thought you should say. You may have been telling the
truth--or if not, something you considered better than the truth,
easier, more comfortable, less painful."

"Sometimes a very bitter thought comes to me--a sore thought--it is
the sliver. I am not trying to be tactful now, just truthful. Tact and
truth do not always combine naturally. This is one of the times. I am
going to ask you something--but, don't speak until I am all done."

Here Pearl straightened her fine young shoulders, and her eyes