CHAPTER X MISS STUART'S ARRIVAL. On this selfsame day, after a two hours' trip on the cars, Helen found herself at length at her destination. It was somewhat after three when she stood ringing the front-door bell of a substantial brown-stone house in a quiet side street. The city seemed hot indeed after the dewy freshness of the country, and the sun's rays beat relentlessly upon the stone flagging and cobblestones. The rumblings of carriages and wagons rolling by, the tinkling of the far off car-bells, the constant roar of the great city fell strangely upon the girl's ears so unaccustomed to the ceaseless din. Just then a street vender passed by, his shrill voice crying now and again, "Peaches! peaches! ten cents a quart!" Helen watched him pityingly until her attention was attracted by a hand-organ grinding away, "White wings, they never grow weary." Two poor little urchins sat on a neighboring doorstep pitching pennies, their small pale faces making her heart ache as she wondered what a glimpse of green fields and winding lanes would be to them. A feeling of sadness assailed her, as these sights and sounds, so familiar to city life, awakened within her a realization that outside of her sheltered life lay so many full of sorrow and suffering. Her reverie was cut short by the appearance of the maid, who immediately ushered her into the darkened drawing-room. Between the closed shutters crept a few rays of straggling sunlight which fell upon the furniture in its muslin slips, the bronzes and gas jets in their wrappings of tarlatan. Helen had hardly found a seat, when someone hastily descended the stairs, and pushing open the door, made a rush across the room and threw her arms about her. "You dear girl," Miss Stuart cried, "how glad I am to see you, and how good of you to come. You cannot imagine how overjoyed I was when I received your telegram." "But I wanted to come, Lillian. You do not seem to take that into consideration." Then, after a pause, "Ah! how lovely you look, but then it seems to me you invariably do." Helen was right, for Miss Stuart, gowned in a dainty peignoir of white silk covered with filmy lace, looked especially charming. At the compliment she laughed softly, and pinched Helen's cheek. "There is no curing you, is there, dear? I thought, perhaps, a separation from me might have improved you." "But you must not expect it," Helen maintained naïvely, "unless you grow less pretty." Miss Stuart kissed her warmly. "Let us talk sense now," she said reprovingly. "Were you surprised at my message? I must explain. I was obliged to come down for mamma on a matter of business, and as it was too long a trip to return again to Bar Harbor to-day, I thought it better to rest, and remain overnight in town." "And do you go back to-morrow?" "Well, no; not if you will take me to Hetherford with you." "Indeed I will, with the greatest pleasure."