over her position of idle waiting, and even grew irritable under it.  More than once Roger heard her speak to Belle and the children with a sharpness and impatience which proved her not angelic.  This did not greatly disturb him, for he neither “wanted to be an angel” nor wished to have much to do with uncomfortable perfection.  A human, spirited girl was quite to his taste, and he was quick-witted enough to see that unrest and anxiety were the causes of her temper.  Poor Mrs. Jocelyn was too gentle for irritation, and only grew more despondent than ever at hope deferred.

“Millie,” she said, “I have dreadful forebodings, and can never forgive myself that I did not think night and day how to save instead of how to spend.  What should we do if we had no money at all?”

“Belle and I must go to work,” said Mildred, with a resolute face, “and it’s a shame we are not at work now.”

“What can you do when your father can do so little?”

“Other poor people live; so can we.  I can’t stand this wretched waiting and separation much longer,” and she wrote as much to her father.  In the hope of obtaining a response favorable to her wishes she became more cheerful.  Every day increased her resolution to put an end to their suspense, and to accept their lot with such fortitude as they could command.

One morning she found Mr. and Mrs. Atwood preparing to go to the nearest market town with butter, eggs, and other farm produce.  She readily obtained permission to accompany them, and made some mysterious purchases.  From this time onward Roger observed that she was much in her room, and that she went out more for exercise than from the motive of getting through with the weary, idle hours.  For some reason she also gained such an influence over thoughtless Belle that the latter took tolerably good care of little Fred and Minnie, as the children were familiarly called.  While she maintained toward him her polite and friendly manner, he saw that he was forgotten, and that it had not entered her mind that he could ever do anything for her or be anything more to her than at the present time.  But every hour she gained a stronger hold upon his sympathy, and occasionally, when she thought herself unobserved, he saw a troubled and almost fearful look come into her eyes, as if something were present to her imagination that inspired the strongest dread.  At such times he was mastered by impulses of self-sacrifice that would have seemed very absurd if put into plain words.  He kept his thoughts, however, to himself, and with an instinctive reticence sought to disguise even from his mother the feelings that were so new, and so full of delicious pain.  That he was becoming quite different from the careless, self-satisfied young fellow that he had been hitherto was apparent to all, and after his outburst on Sunday evening his mother half guessed the cause.  But he misled her to some extent, and Susan altogether, by saying, “I’ve had a falling-out with Amelia Stone.”