wner. It
must be confessed that Miss Harriet was a most bewildering instructor,
and that her pupil's brain was easily confused and prone to blunders.
The coming of Helena had been somewhat dreaded by reason of this
incompetent service, but the guest took no notice of frowns or futile
gestures at the first tea-table, except to establish friendly relations
with Martha on her own account by a reassuring smile. They were about
the same age, and next morning, before cousin Harriet came down, Helena
showed by a word and a quick touch the right way to do something that
had gone wrong and been impossible to understand the night before. A
moment later the anxious mistress came in without suspicion, but
Martha's eyes were as affectionate as a dog's, and there was a new look
of hopefulness on her face; this dreaded guest was a friend after all,
and not a foe come from proud Boston to confound her ignorance and
patient efforts.

The two young creatures, mistress and maid, were hurrying across the
bleaching-green.

"I can't reach the ripest cherries," explained Helena politely, "and I
think that Miss Pyne ought to send some to the minister. He has just
made us a call. Why Martha, you have n't been crying again!"

"Yes 'm," said Martha sadly. "Miss Pyne always loves to send something
to the minister," she acknowledged with interest, as if she did not
wish to be asked to explain these latest tears.

"We 'll arrange some of the best cherries in a pretty dish. I 'll show
you how, and you shall carry them over to the parsonage after tea,"
said Helena cheerfully, and Martha accepted the embassy with pleasure.
Life was beginning to hold moments of something like delight in the
last few days.

"You 'll spoil your pretty dress, Miss Helena," Martha gave shy
warning, and Miss Helena stood back and held up her skirts with unusual
care while the country girl, in her heavy blue checked gingham, began
to climb the cherry-tree like a boy.

Down came the scarlet fruit like bright rain into the green grass.

"Break some nice twigs with the cherries and leaves together; oh, you
're a duck, Martha!" and Martha, flushed with delight, and looking far
more like a thin and solemn blue heron, came rustling down to earth
again, and gathered the spoils into her clean apron.

That night at tea, during her hand-maiden's temporary absence, Miss
Harriet announced, as if by way of apology, that she thought Martha was
beginning to understand somet