Lucy willingly promised to try, and then Mrs. Harris, as Miss Preston was now called, bade her an affectionate farewell, before going to exchange the parting words with the members of her own family.  Lucy watched by the gate till she saw the carriage drive off, and then, overcome by the reaction from the excitement of the occasion, hurried home through the quiet shady lane, and disregarding Stella’s call, never stopped till she reached her own room.

There the astonished Stella found her lying on her bed, crying bitterly, and asked in alarm the cause of her distress.  That the parting from a Sunday-school teacher, a friend so much older than herself, could have called forth such emotion, Stella could not comprehend; and it was difficult for Lucy to explain it to so unsympathetic a listener.

“Why, I’m sure I shan’t cry so when Sophy is married and goes south, a great deal farther away than Miss Preston.  Now tell me how she was dressed.”

“Oh, Stella!  I can’t just now,” sobbed Lucy, whose crying was partly the result of nervous excitement, as well as of her realizing for the first time Miss Preston’s departure.  And Stella, finding her attempts to soothe her unavailing, returned to her story-book, until the arrival of Mrs. Steele, whom she found more communicative.

“And where is Lucy?” inquired her aunt, after satisfying Stella’s curiosity.  “She must have slipped away very quietly.”

“Oh, she’s in her own room.  She was crying so, it was no use to speak to her.  I don’t know what for.”

“She is very fond of her teacher, and I don’t wonder at her crying on losing her.  She is a great loss to us all.”

“What a fuss they all do make over her!  I’m sure she didn’t seem anything particular,” thought Stella as she accompanied Mrs. Steele up-stairs.  Lucy had fallen asleep, but awoke on their entrance, and started up to arrange her disordered dress and hair before going to tea.

“Just look how you have crushed your nice dress now!” exclaimed Stella reproachfully.  “And the wreath too!  It might have been fresh all the evening.  You might have taken them off if you wanted to lie down.”

“I didn’t think of it,” said Lucy apologetically, somewhat remorseful for not having treated the result of Stella’s labour with more respect.  “But I shouldn’t have worn it all the evening, at any rate, for after tea I am going to see Nelly Connor.”

“What! that girl we saw in the wood?  What are you going to see her for?” exclaimed Stella.

“Miss Preston—­I mean Mrs. Harris—­wants me to try to get her to come to learn to read, if papa and Aunt Mary have no objection; and I’m sure they won’t.”

It was to Stella a bewildering phenomenon, that Lucy should really go out of her way to invite such a girl to the house.  However, partly from curiosity, and partly from having nothing better to do, she acceded to Lucy’s invitation to accompany her; and after tea the girls set off, Mrs. Steele warning Lucy to be very conciliatory to Mrs. Connor, or she would not accomplish her object.