"No stream from its source flows seaward, How lonely soever its course, But what some land is gladdened. No star ever rose or set Without influence somewhere." She quoted the lines charmingly, despite the little shyness which was so characteristic of her. "I suppose that is true," said Mollie thoughtfully; "and in the large things in life we know that we can only be in harmony with God's plan by acting absolutely in accordance with our consciences. But it is hard to realize the importance of our decision in regard to the small daily occurrences. They seem almost too insignificant to exert any influence, either for good or evil." "Influence does not lie only in deeds, Mollie," Eleanor replied, "either small or great. It seems to me that it is what we are, not what we do, that is the essential thing. If one's heart is pure and true, purity and truth will be manifested in one's actions, however trivial. And remember, dear, for I am going to quote now: "No life can be strong in its purpose and pure in its strife, And all life not be stronger and purer thereby." Jean gave her friend's hand an affectionate squeeze. "I do believe you are the best girl living," she whispered softly, with an air of profound conviction. "You see, girls, what it is to have a friend like Jean." "You mean like Eleanor," Jean promptly retorted. "I suppose that is true friendship," mused Mollie. "Must friendship necessarily be as blind as love?" queried Nan, with a smile at the two girls which robbed the words of any sting. "Jean knows nothing of love," declared Emily, with an air of superiority which was eminently amusing. It was common parlance that Emily never saw the general aspect of things quite as clearly as most people. Jean joined somewhat constrainedly in the laugh that greeted these words, and wondered if it could be her imagination that Miss Stuart's smile held a covert sneer. It was late in the afternoon when Helen reached the manor and made her way up to the nursery. The room was dim, for heavy clouds shortened the summer day. A sharp east wind moaned through the trees outside, and nurse had wisely lighted a wood fire in the wide chimneyplace. Its fitful flickering light fell full on little Gladys kneeling before the hearth, her eyes big with excitement as her chubby hands shaped a wonderful house of blocks; while near her Larry, lying flat on his back, threw out occasional hints and suggestions as to its construction. Willie, curled up in one of the deep window-seats, was making the best of the fast-fading daylight to finish a story which, to judge from his absorbed expression, must have been of thrilling interest. As Helen pushed open the door and advanced toward the cheerful fire, three pairs of eyes looked up to greet her. "Well, chicks, you all look very happy and comfie." Gladys thrust out her hands in quick alarm to save her block house from dangerous contact with the skirt of Helen's gown.