Wholly intent upon her pious mission, Mrs. Wynn did not feel any disagreeable effects from the vertical rays of the blazing noonday sun, but ran down the road after the little group, who moved on, leisurely and unconscious, a few rods before them.

“Wait, Miss Graystone,” she gasped, “I want to speak to you.  Why, Mr. Strain, excuse my interrupting you, but I want to speak a word to this dear child.  Rose, walk on with Mr. Strain, I don’t wish my remarks to be overheard.”

The gentleman paused a moment in a state of uncertainty, eyed the blooming Miss Rose Wynn, whose five feet five of feminine humanity, clad in bright red delaine, quite overshadowed the delicate figure beside him.  But he obeyed the elder woman’s command meekly, nevertheless, and went forward, asking in a pompous tone: 

“Is your paternal benefactor indisposed, Miss Wynn?  I did not have the pleasure of beholding that respected personage at our morning service.”

“Who?” queried his fair companion.  “Oh, if you mean pa, he’s laid up on account of takin’ cold in the hay field.  ‘Taint goin’ to amount to much though.  Let’s hurry up, ma’s motioning me to go faster.”

They walked on, and Mrs. Wynn, eying their retreating figures with supreme satisfaction, turned and smiled blandly upon Clemence.

“Now, I’ve got a little breath,” she articulated, still with considerable difficulty, “I want to ask you what on earth made you fly out with your best friend.  I didn’t mean anything, only for your own good.”

“I believe you, Mrs. Wynn,” said her young listener, generously.  “I will admit having experienced a momentary feeling of displeasure at your words, but I have conquered it, and should have forgotten it, I am sure, without this explanation.  I am afraid it is I who ought to apologise for having forgotten the respect due to age.”

“There, now, don’t,” said Mrs. Wynn, now really in earnest.  “It was mean in me, to say that before them all, and I’m sorry for it, for it shows the right spirit in you to try and defend the little creature.  You have shamed us all out by the way you have acted, and if ever you want any help with the child, come to Mother Wynn, and see if she won’t be as good as her word, and show you the way out of your difficulties.”

“Thank you, my good, kind friend,” said Clemence, grasping the hand held out to her, impulsively.  “I am afraid that I am not equal to the responsibility that I have taken upon myself in the care of this child, but I shall do my very best.”

“And angels can’t do nothin’ more,” said Mrs. Wynn.  “You’re made of the right stuff, child, and I’m glad we had this little fallin’ out, we had such a good makin’ up time.  I like you all the better.  I wish Betsy Pryor hadn’t been there to see it, though—­never mind, I’ll make her pay dearly for the satisfaction she enjoyed over it.  I’ll be your fast friend from this time forward, and I ain’t one of the kind to say a thing that I don’t mean.”