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 They came together over John Anthony, the elder and the younger Mrs. Strong'nth'arm.

"It's her artfulness," had argued the elder Mrs. Strong'nth'arm to herself at first; "pretending to want my advice and hanging upon my words; while all the time, I reckon, she's laughing at me."

But the next day or the day after she would come again to answer delightedly the hundred questions put to her—to advise, discuss, to gossip and to laugh—to remember on her way home that she had kissed the girl, promising to come again soon.

Returning late one afternoon she met Anthony on the moor.

"I've left her going to sleep," she said. "Don't disturb her. She doesn't rest herself sufficiently. I've been talking to her about it.

"I'm getting to like her," she confessed shamefacedly. "She isn't as bad as I thought her."

He laughed, putting an arm about her.

"You'll end by loving her," he said. "You won't be able to help it."

"It'll depend upon you, lad," she answered. "So long as your good is her good I shall be content."

She kissed him good night for it was growing dusk. Neither he nor Eleanor had ever been able to persuade her to stay the night. With the nurs-