“Of course, Aunt Maria loves us both, but she loves you especially; but she is often cross with you.  I don’t understand it.”

“She doesn’t love me any better than she does you, dear,” said Maria.

“Oh yes, she does; but I am not jealous.  I am very glad I am not, for I could be terribly jealous.”

“Nonsense, precious!”

“Yes, I could.  Sometimes I imagine how jealous I could be, and it frightens me.”

“You must not imagine such things, dear.”

“I have always imagined things,” said Evelyn.  Her face took on a very serious, almost weird and tragic expression.  Maria had as she had often had before, a glimpse of dangerous depths of emotion in her sister’s character.

“That is no reason why you should always imagine,” she said, with a little, weary sigh.

Directly the look of loving solicitude appeared on Evelyn’s face.  She went close to her sister, and laid her soft, glowing cheek against hers.

“I am so sorry, dearest,” she said.  “Sorry for whatever troubles you.”

“What makes you think anything troubles me?”

“You seem to me as if something troubled you.”

“Nothing does,” said Maria.  She pushed Evelyn gently away and sat up.  “I was only tired out,” she said, firmly.  “The breakfast has made me feel better.  I will get up now and write some letters.”

“Wouldn’t you rather lie still and let me read to you?”

“No, dear, thank you.  I will get up now.”

Evelyn remained in the room while her sister brushed her hair and dressed.  “I wonder what kind of a man the new principal will be?” she said, looking dreamily out of the window.  She had, in fact, already had her dreams about him.  As yet she had admitted men to her dreams only, but she had her dreams.  She did not notice her sister’s change of color.  She continued to gaze absently out of the window at the autumn landscape.  A golden maple branch swung past the window in a crisp breeze, now and then a leaf flew away like a yellow bird and became a part of the golden carpet on the ground.  “Addie Hemingway says he is very handsome,” she said, meditatively.  “Do you remember him, sister—­that is, do you remember how he looked when he was a boy?”

“As I remember him he was a very good-looking boy,” Maria said.

“I wonder if he is engaged?” Evelyn said.

Suddenly her soft cheeks flamed.

“I don’t see what that matters to you,” Maria retorted, in a tone which she almost never used towards Evelyn—­“to you or any of the other girls.  Mr. Lee is coming to teach you, not to become engaged to his pupils.”

“Of course I know he is,” Evelyn said, humbly.  “I didn’t mean to be silly, sister.  I was only wondering.”

“The less a young girl wonders about a man the better,” Maria said.

“Well, I won’t wonder, only it does seem rather natural to wonder.  Didn’t you use to wonder when you were a young girl, sister?”