cture of thee! There is one
upstairs of a great-grandmother, and thou lookest like it, but it
belongs to Andrew and not to our side, and," lowering her voice, "Uncle
Henry thinks it vain. Andrew wanted it in his room, but uncle would not
listen. Oh, I am so glad to see thee. I am so lonely," piteously.

The little Quaker girl in her sudden delight had forgotten her superior
virtue. Her eyes fairly danced as they devoured Primrose. All the others
seemed talking and explaining, so she had dared to step over the traces
in the din.

"We have some odd old portraits in Arch Street. If thou couldst visit
me, Faith!"

"Faith," said her uncle, "go and call Andrew. I left him threshing in
the farther barn."

Faith rose with sober gravity, running her needle through the patch, and
walked placidly through the room, though she had telegraphed to Primrose
with her eye. And just as she opened the door Primrose gathered up her
skirts and, saying, "I will go, too," flashed along before anyone could
frame a remonstrance.

"I wish thou wert here--nay, not that, for thou would be kept straitly,
and there would be no pleasure. Rachel has grown severe, and works so
much at her outfitting, for she means to be married sometime."

"Who will she marry?" There seemed no one besides Andrew, and the
child's heart made a sudden fierce protest.

"Oh, I do not know. William Frost hath walked home with her when the
meetings were at Friend Lester's. All girls marry, I think, and I shall
be glad enough when my time comes. If it were not for Andrew I hardly
know what would become of me. He is so good. He reads curious books and
tells them to me. And sometimes there are verses that I want to sing,
they are so sweet--but such things are wrong. Andrew! Nay, hide here,
Primrose," pushing her in a corner. "Andrew, guess what has happened,
and who hath come! An elegant soldier in scarlet and gold,
and--and--someone thou lovest. I was mad one day when I said I hated
her----"

"Not Primrose!" in a surprised but gladsome tone.

There was a swift rush and Primrose was in his arms. He did not kiss
her, but held her so tightly that she could feel his strong heart beat.

"Truly, Faith, thou didst not hate me?" she said when released, turning
to the girl.

The maiden's face was scarlet.

"She does not hate thee now, dear," said Andrew softly.

"It was most wicked and hateful! Thou hadst so many joys and pretty
things and lessons, and a beautiful face,