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 "Where did you get that rose?" Harriet asked presently, for hot-house flowers did not bloom at Jane's.

"Frank left it for me yesterday."

"Did he come 'way over to Westville on purpose to see you?"

"I don't know."

"How did he find out you were at Jane's?"

"I don't know."

"Didn't you ask him?"

"I didn't see him."

"Why not?"

"I thought it would be mean."

The inquisitor's face relaxed.

"Did Jane see him?"

"Yes 'm."

"What did she say to him?"

"I don't know. She said she made it all right."

"Jane had better mind her own business," Harriet muttered.

She was suspicious of her sister's methods. Jane's had never been a well-regulated mind. But the rose was suffered to remain where it was. Lucy had certainly behaved very well, exactly as Harriet herself would have done in her place.

When she said good-night, Lucy still looked pale and tired; but there was a "grown-up," experienced look in her face which did not escape her mother.

Harriet was again struck with that curious sense of identity with her which had come over