Christie was sure of this, and would not be repulsed; for her own heart was very solitary.  She missed Helen, and longed to fill the empty place.  She wooed this shy, cold girl as patiently and as gently as a lover might, determined to win her confidence, because all the others had failed to do it.  Sometimes she left a flower in Rachel’s basket, always smiled and nodded as she entered, and often stopped to admire the work of her tasteful fingers.  It was impossible to resist such friendly overtures, and slowly Rachel’s coldness melted; into the beseeching eyes came a look of gratitude, the more touching for its wordlessness, and an irrepressible smile broke over her face in answer to the cordial ones that made the sunshine of her day.

Emboldened by these demonstrations, Christie changed her seat, and quietly established between them a daily interchange of something beside needles, pins, and spools.  Then, as Rachel did not draw back offended, she went a step farther, and, one day when they chanced to be left alone to finish off a delicate bit of work, she spoke out frankly: 

“Why can’t we be friends?  I want one sadly, and so do you, unless your looks deceive me.  We both seem to be alone in the world, to have had trouble, and to like one another.  I won’t annoy you by any impertinent curiosity, nor burden you with uninteresting confidences; I only want to feel that you like me a little and don’t mind my liking you a great deal.  Will you be my friend, and let me be yours?”

A great tear rolled clown upon the shining silk in Rachel’s hands as she looked into Christie’s earnest face, and answered with an almost passionate gratitude in her own: 

“You can never need a friend as much as I do, or know what a blessed thing it is to find such an one as you are.”

“Then I may love you, and not be afraid of offending?” cried Christie, much touched.

“Yes.  But remember I didn’t ask it first,” said Rachel, half dropping the hand she had held in both her own.

“You proud creature!  I’ll remember; and when we quarrel, I’ll take all the blame upon myself.”

Then Christie kissed her warmly, whisked away the tear, and began to paint the delights in store for them in her most enthusiastic way, being much elated with her victory; while Rachel listened with a newly kindled light in her lovely eyes, and a smile that showed how winsome her face had been before many tears washed its bloom away, and much trouble made it old too soon.

Christie kept her word,—­asked no questions, volunteered no confidences, but heartily enjoyed the new friendship, and found that it gave to life the zest which it had lacked before.  Now some one cared for her, and, better still, she could make some one happy, and in the act of lavishing the affection of her generous nature on a creature sadder and more solitary than herself, she found a satisfaction that never lost its charm.  There was nothing in her possession that she did not offer Rachel, from the whole of her heart to the larger half of her little room.