and who apparently belonged to nobody, just as she would
have accepted any other girl friend who might have come into her rather
uneventful life. It had never even occurred to her to doubt the truth of
Undine's strange story. The rest of the family had not been quite so
easily satisfied, and for several days Mr. and Mrs. Graham had been
inclined to regard the stranger with some doubt, even suspicion; but
there was something very winning about this new Undine--she seemed such
a simple, innocent child--so grateful for every kindness, and so eager
to be of use in the household--that they gradually found themselves
coming to believe in her, in spite of appearances.

"I am sure the child is telling the truth as far as she knows it," Aunt
Jessie had said to her sister-in-law that morning. "It all sounds very
strange and incredible, I know, but I can't doubt the truth in those
honest eyes of hers. I am really growing quite fond of her already." To
which Mrs. Graham had replied, with a smile:

"We shall know when Donald receives the answers to the letters he sent
to the Home in Oakland and to the dressmaker."

As Marjorie concluded her remarks on the story of Undine, she glanced
critically at her friend's work.

"You are hemming much better to-day," she said in a tone of
satisfaction; "I am sure Mother will say you have improved."

Undine's face brightened.

"I hope she will--oh, I do hope so!" she said eagerly. "She is so dear,
and I want to please her so much, but I'm afraid I'm very stupid."

"You are not stupid at all," declared Marjorie loyally. "You are much
cleverer than I am about lots of things. It isn't your fault if you've
never been taught to sew."

"There wasn't any time to learn at Miss Brent's," said Undine; "there
were always such a lot of errands, and so many parcels to be carried
home. I suppose if I had learned before the earthquake I shouldn't
remember now."

"I don't know," said Marjorie thoughtfully; "you must have learned to
read, and you haven't forgotten that."

"No, nor to write either. It's very queer about the things I remember
and those I don't. Mr. Jackson used to asked me a great many questions,
and he wrote down some of the things I told him, to show to a society he
belonged to. Once a very funny thing happened. I had taken a dress home
to a lady, and was waiting in the hall while she tried it on, to see if
it had to go back for any alterations. There were some people in the
parlor ta