his
hirsute cemetery; chiefly because she knew it was worn on days when
deep emotion was to be felt and expressed. At sight of it, she was
quite prepared for the tearful smile with which Miss Ann signed to her
to close the door. Then extending her arms, "Sweet sister," she said,
with emotion, "let me take you to my heart."

It was somewhat startling to Christobel to be apostrophized as "sister"
by Miss Ann. The Boy had made her feel so young, and so completely his
contemporary, that if Miss Ann had called her "daughter," or even
"granddaughter," it would have seemed more appropriate. Also her
magnificent proportions constituted a somewhat large order for Miss
Ann's proposed embrace.

However, she knelt beside the sofa, and allowed herself to be taken to
Miss Ann's heart in sections. Then, having found and restored Miss
Ann's lace pocket-handkerchief, she seated herself in a low chair
beside the couch, hoping for enlightenment upon the immediate prospects
of her own future.

Miss Ann wept gently for a while. Christobel sat silent. Her recent
experience of tears, wrung from such deep anguish of soul, made it less
easy for her to feel sympathetic towards tears which flowed from no
apparent cause, and fell delicately into perfumed lace. So she waited
in silence, while Miss Ann wept.

The room was very still. The bang with which the Boy usually made his
entry anywhere, would have been terrific in its joyful suddenness. At
the mere thought of it, Christobel's heart stood still and listened.
But this was a place into which the Boy would never make an entry,
noisy or otherwise. Besides--the Boy was gone. Oh, silent, sober,
sorry world! The Boy was gone.

Sweetie-weet put his head on one side, and chirped interrogatively. In
his judgment, the silence had lasted sufficiently long.

Miss Ann dried her eyes, making an effort to control her emotion. Then
she spoke, in a voice which still trembled.

"Dearest child," she said, "I want you _just_ to cover this book for
me. Emma has offered to do it, several times, but I said: 'No, Emma.
We must keep it for Miss Christobel. I do not know _what_ she would
say to you, if you took to covering my books!' Emma is a good soul,
and willing; but has not the _mind_ and _method_ required to cover a
book properly. If you will _just_ run up to my room, dear child, you
will find a neat piece of whity-brown paper laid aside on purpose....
Hush, Sweetie-weet! Christobel kn