'There,' said she, 'is the house at dear Dykelands; there is my window with the Banksia roses clustering round it, so that I could gather them as I stood in my room. That room is still to be called Helen's. But now, Anne, do you think that line ought to be straight? Lizzie says it should, but I think the perspective alters it; I am sure I saw it so.' 'Indeed, Helen,' said Anne, 'I think the shadow must have deceived you.' And with a little trouble she proved that Elizabeth was right. 'Ah!' said Helen, 'if Lizzie would but have shewn me patiently, instead of saying, 'Why, Helen, cannot you draw a straight line?' I should have understood her.' Then she continued, while taking out India-rubber and pencil to rectify the mistake, 'I used to draw a great deal at dear Dykelands; we had a sketching master, and used to go out with him twice a week, but it was very delightful when we three went alone, when one of us used to read while the others drew. I am sure these sketches will for ever remind me of those happy days.' 'Why, Helen,' said Anne, smiling, 'you speak as if you never meant to be happy again.' 'Do I?' said poor Helen; 'I am afraid I do seem rather silly about dear Dykelands. The other day I was singing "My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here, My heart's in the Highlands, gone chasing the deer," when in came Lizzie, and said, "No, Helen, Your heart is at Dykelands, your heart's in the bogs, Your heart is at Dykelands, gone chasing the frogs," for she is always laughing at it for being so damp, dear place. And it was before Horace went to school, and he would do nothing but sing it at me all day, and make Winifred do so too.' Anne could not help laughing. 'Then you too think me absurd,' said Helen; 'but if you only knew how happy I was at Dykelands, and how desolate I sometimes feel here, you would not wonder at me.' 'Then you do not like Abbeychurch?' said Anne incredulously; she could not say 'you are not happy at home.' 'Who could prefer a little dismal town to a pleasant house in the country?' said Helen; 'you like Merton Hall better than this place, do not you, Anne?' 'Of course,' replied Anne; 'but then Merton Hall is my home.' 'And Abbeychurch is mine,' sighed poor Helen. 'I believe it is very wrong to be discontented with home, but I cannot help it.' 'My dear Helen, what do you mean?' exclaimed Anne, quite aghast. 'Indeed, Anne,' said Helen, 'I do not wonder that you are shocked, but you do not know how I feel here. At Dykelands I felt that people liked me and were pleased with me, but at home nobody wants me, nobody cares for me, I am in the way wherever I go.' 'My dear Helen,' cried Anne, 'that must be fancy!' 'I wish it was,' said poor Helen, shaking her head. 'But only think,' proceeded Anne, 'what you are accusing them of. Not loving you, and wishing you away.'