Agatha looked pale and tired as she sat, rather languidly, in an easy chair in Mrs. Farnam’s pretty room.  There was bitter frost outside, but the new wooden house, standing among the orchards of South Ontario, was warm, and furnished with a regard for comfort and artistic taste.  Mrs. Farnam was proud of her house and good-humored husband, who gave way to her except about the growing of fruit.  On this subject, she had told Agatha, he was extraordinarily obstinate.  She had some tact and much kindly feeling, but had been a teacher and believed she had a talent for managing other people’s business.  In fact, she had tried to manage Agatha’s, but was forced to admit without much success.  Agatha, she said, was difficult.

For all that, it had given her keen satisfaction to bring the girl there when she was threatened by a nervous breakdown in consequence of over-work.  Agatha had been her confidential friend when they were at school, but since Mabel married she had sometimes felt that the confidence had been rather one-sided.  She had told Agatha much, but the latter had said little about her future plans.

“I don’t think you’re very much better yet,” Mrs. Farnam said after a pause in the talk, for she was seldom silent long.

Agatha languidly looked about the room, noting the warm color of the polished floor, on which the light of the shaded lamp lay in a glistening pool, the fine skin rugs, and thick curtains.  She had not an exaggerated love of comfort and her Toronto rooms were bare, but she owned that Mabel had a pretty house.  Besides, she had a husband who indulged her and was always kind.

“It’s very nice to be here, and I shall soon get strong,” she said.  “I suppose I rather overdid things, but the examination was coming and I was anxious my girls should pass well.”

“From the school managers’ point of view, that was a laudable aim, but I don’t know that it was worth injuring your health for.  You used to agree that managers often expected too much from a teacher.”

“I’m afraid I had a selfish object,” said Agatha, smiling.  “I wanted a better post that will soon be vacant.”

“Ambition sometimes deceives one.  I know the post you mean and the girl who’s going.  It carries duties that wore her out.”

“And better pay,” said Agatha.

Mrs. Farnam gave her a thoughtful look.  “Well, that’s plausible; but I never thought you greedy.  Why do you want the extra pay?”

“I have a use for it,” Agatha replied with a twinkle.  “I don’t suppose I shall carry out my plans, and after all, they are too ridiculous to talk about.  Anyhow, you would think so.  You’re very practical.”

“People are curious,” Mrs. Farnam remarked.  “I’m willing to admit I’m practical, but I married and love my husband, while you look romantic and in many ways are not.  You risk your health for money, and I don’t think any man ever roused a tender thought in you.  There’s Jake, for example—­”