By chance the little brother had been present. He called his mother, and presently Linda was on the sofa in the other room, and the inevitable farm-house remedy for all mortal ills, the camphor-bottle--or to use the rural term, the “camfire”--had been produced, and soon Linda raised her eyes and called up the old, sweet smile; while little Arthur stood with sturdy legs far apart--his hands in his small pockets, and his father’s own special brand of frown upon his brow--watching his sister’s restoration; then he remarked: “Linda, it was blowin’ wind into that d--blamed old organ, that busted yer all up just now!--so it was!--and after this yer just pull yer feet back out of the way, and I’ll crawl under there, and work them ‘pedal treadle things,’ and blow yer all the wind yer want--and if I blow so hard it busts the thing, papa darsent lick me, ’cause I’ll be doin’ it for you!” and he danced with malicious glee! Next day he kept his word, and though Miss Linda played a little while, somehow the spirit seemed to have gone out of her music. But when Arthur came out on all-fours from under the instrument’s front, hot, red and tousled, his sister shook his little hand and thanked him and kissed him tenderly--and he, swelling with gratified pride and love, went out behind the smoke-house, where he swore a little for practice, and tried to kill the cat. Next morning early, as I left our room, I glanced into Miss Linda’s, and saw it had not been put in order yet. Being ever eager to do something in her service, I thought I might slip in and beat up her pillows and place them in the sun as I had seen the “grown-ups” do. So in I went and, snatching up the nearest pillow, I gave a startled “Oh!” and stood staring, for beneath it lay the miniature of a man, whose questioning brown eyes looked up at me from a face young yet stern to the point of sombreness. My first impulse was to restore the pillow and run away, but next moment I noticed, lying close to the picture, all crumpled up into a little wad, Miss Linda’s handkerchief. I leaned over and touched it, and it was still damp with tears. A great lump rose in my throat and, though I was but a “growing-girl,” it was the heart of a woman that was giving those quick, hard blows in my breast and making me understand. I sprang across the room and softly closed the door. I said to myself: “Miss Linda loves him, and she is unhappy and grieves, and she does not wish them to know!” I went to her bureau and took a fresh handkerchief from the drawer, then I took the miniature--it was on ivory, and, from its small, gold frame, I fancied it had been intended for an ornament--and slipped it into the velvet case I found near by; then I carefully rolled the case inside of the handkerchief and started downstairs, trying hard to look unconcerned as I entered the dining-room.