touch of faithful love, added an
intangible and plaintive charm to the homely attraction of the house. I
did love that room. It was so sunny, so spotless and peaceful, with the
geraniums and the heliotrope in the window, and the white muslin
curtains. There was a rug with a very bright and fierce-looking tiger on
it before the fireplace (Mr. Marsh _would_ have a fireplace), and Mr.
Marsh's grandmother's andirons glittered behind the big peacock fan in
summer time; and there used to float in through the window the lovely
faint odors of old-fashioned flowers--spice pinks and sweetbrier roses
and lemon verbenas."

Mrs. Clymer sighed. "I wish there were a better ending to the story."

"Does it end sadly?" asked the Southerner. "Did the little girls grow up
and forget each other?"

Mrs. Curtis, who was looking absently over the lawn and the flowers,
down the shady street, on which longer and warmer shadows were creeping,
back perhaps in a reverie of her childhood, started a little; the
sensitive blush which years in the world had not given her power to
control, mantled her fair cheek; she turned and gave the Southerner's
light smile a serious, almost solemn gaze. When she spoke it was with a
gentle coldness, as if she felt she had been too frank with
strangers--at least so the hostess interpreted it.

"_I_ didn't forget; and we were not separated for several years. I went
to the high school with Nannie; it was really I who went, for my
entreaties overcame my mother's aversion to the clamorous life of a
public school. We were so happy; and when I had the trouble with my
eyes, Nannie used to read my lessons to me. She learned a whole
different course so she could help me. You see, she was awfully clever.
The more I knew of other girls, the finer Nannie seemed to me. The--the
difference between the classes, the real thing which keeps them apart,
is their lack of a common ground of experience. They haven't anything to
talk about. I should have been as shy with another girl who worked for
her living as she would have been with me, but I knew Nannie so well--I
never knew any other woman friend so well, and only one man."

"Whom you married?" said the Southerner with an apologetic accent.

"Yes, poor dear," laughed Mrs. Curtis. "It wasn't treating him well,
perhaps, but he brought it on himself."

"Did you go through the high school with your friend?" Mrs. Waite's deep
voice was heard again. "But no, surely you weren't a gra