"Oh, yes, mothery, she is quite well now. Don't worry her," said Irene
almost rudely. "I am going to take her out in the boat on the lake."

"Be sure you are very careful."

"I will be careful enough."

Just then Miss Frost came in.

"Agnes, I hear Irene wants to take you out in the boat. You are not to
go."

"But she has promised," said little Agnes.

She raised confiding dark eyes to her new friend's face.

"You must trust me, Frosty. Don't be a perfect goose," said Irene; and
taking Agnes' hand, they went down across the summer lawn to the place
where the boat was moored. By-and-by Irene was seen by those who
watched, gently rowing among the water-lilies, with little Agnes at the
other end of the boat.

"What a beautiful girl you are!" little Agnes kept saying; "and how
happy my sister ought to be, living always with you!"

"Don't ask her if she is happy for a day or two. I have given directions
about your room. You shall sleep in the little pink room next to mine."

CHAPTER XIX.

A SORT OF ANGEL.

Irene pulled with swift, sure strokes across the summer lake. The lake
was one of the great features of the place. It was a quarter of a mile
wide, and half a mile in length, and had been carefully attended to by
owner after owner for generations; so that groups of water-lilies grew
here, and swans arched their proud white necks and spread out their
feathered plumes. Little Agnes had never seen anything so lovely before,
and when she bent forward and saw her own reflection in the water she
gave a scream of childish pleasure.

"Oh, how happy sister Emily must be!" was her remark.

Again Irene made the strange answer, "Don't ask for a day or two."

Then little Agnes raised grave dark eyes to Irene's face.

"But any one would be happy with you," she said. "To look at you is such
a comfort."

"Tell me about yourself," said Irene suddenly, shipping her oars,
bending forward, and fixing her intensely bright eyes on the child.

She did not feel at all like a changeling now. That wild thing in her
breast was still. She felt somewhat like a mother, somewhat like an
ordinary little girl might feel towards a loved baby-sister, or even
towards a doll. This new sense of protection had a marvelous effect upon
her. She would not have minded if little Agnes had crept into her arms
and laid her head on her breast.

"Tell me what you did before you came here," she said.

"But don't you know?" said Agnes. "