eraldine is fat and well and has been ever since we got home from
the country."

"Good-bye, George," Ellen said quietly. Her face was pale and there was
a strained expression about eyes and mouth.

"Oh, Ellen!" George gave her one last wild kiss and rushed madly through
the gate.

His coach was far down the train shed and Rosie and Ellen soon lost
sight of his hurrying figure. They stood together at the gate and waited
until the train started.

As it pulled away Ellen sighed deeply. "Thank goodness he's gone!" She
leaned against the grating and laughed hysterically.

Rosie, who had been dabbing her eyes with a wet handkerchief, looked up
blankly. "Ellen O'Brien, what do you mean? Are you glad he's gone?"

"You bet I'm glad!" Ellen's silly high-pitched laugh continued until
silenced by Rosie's look of scornful fury.

"Ellen O'Brien, you're worse than I thought you were!"

Ellen faltered a moment, then reached toward Rosie appealingly. "Don't
be too hard on me, Rosie. You don't know the awful time I've had. I feel
like I've been dead. I haven't been able to breathe. I don't mean it was
his fault. I think as much of him as you do--really I do. He's good and
he's kind and he's honest and he's everything he ought to be. But if
he'd ha' stayed much longer I'd ha' smothered."

Rosie, accusing angel and stern judge rolled into one, demanded gravely:
"And now that he's gone what are you going to do?"

"What am I going to do?" Ellen's laugh was still a little beyond her
control, but it had in it a note of happy relief that was unmistakable.
"I'm going to live again--at least for the little time that's left me."

"What do you mean by 'the little time that's left you'?"

"From now till Thanksgiving; from Thanksgiving till spring." For an
instant Ellen's face clouded. Then she cried: "But I'm not going to
think of spring! I'm going to have my fling now!"

Rosie looked at her without speaking and, as she looked, it seemed to
her that the Ellen of other days rose before her. It was as though a
pale nun-like creature had been going about in Ellen's body, answering
to Ellen's name. Now, at George's departure as at the touch of a magic
wand, the old Ellen was back with eyes that sparkled once again and
cheeks into which the colour was returning in waves. Yes, she was the
old Ellen, eager for life and excitement and thirsting for admiration.
But the old Ellen with a difference. Now, instead of estranging Rosie
utterly with