hing about her work. "Her aunt was a
treasure, she never had to be told anything twice; but Martha has been
as clumsy as a calf," said the precise mistress of the house. "I have
been afraid sometimes that I never could teach her anything. I was
quite ashamed to have you come just now, and find me so unprepared to
entertain a visitor."

"Oh, Martha will learn fast enough because she cares so much," said the
visitor eagerly. "I think she is a dear good girl. I do hope that she
will never go away. I think she does things better every day, cousin
Harriet," added Helena pleadingly, with all her kind young heart. The
china-closet door was open a little way, and Martha heard every word.
From that moment, she not only knew what love was like, but she knew
love's dear ambitions. To have come from a stony hill-farm and a bare
small wooden house, was like a cave-dweller's coming to make a
permanent home in an art museum, such had seemed the elaborateness and
elegance of Miss Pyne's fashion of life; and Martha's simple brain was
slow enough in its processes and recognitions. But with this
sympathetic ally and defender, this exquisite Miss Helena who believed
in her, all difficulties appeared to vanish.

Later that evening, no longer homesick or hopeless, Martha returned
from her polite errand to the minister, and stood with a sort of
triumph before the two ladies, who were sitting in the front doorway,
as if they were waiting for visitors, Helena still in her white muslin
and red ribbons, and Miss Harriet in a thin black silk. Being happily
self-forgetful in the greatness of the moment, Martha's manners were
perfect, and she looked for once almost pretty and quite as young as
she was.

"The minister came to the door himself, and returned his thanks. He
said that cherries were always his favorite fruit, and he was much
obliged to both Miss Pyne and Miss Vernon. He kept me waiting a few
minutes, while he got this book ready to send to you, Miss Helena."

"What are you saying, Martha? I have sent him nothing!" exclaimed Miss
Pyne, much astonished. "What does she mean, Helena?"

"Only a few cherries," explained Helena. "I thought Mr. Crofton would
like them after his afternoon of parish calls. Martha and I arranged
them before tea, and I sent them with our compliments."

"Oh, I am very glad you did," said Miss Harriet, wondering, but much
relieved. "I was afraid"--

"No, it was none of my mischief," answered He