"Oh, poor Miss Goodwin!" Angel cried, her eyes full of tears. "Did her brother serve her very, very badly, Mrs. Vallance?" "Yes, miss, I'm bound to admit that he did. He not only spent most of her money—you know she has as much as she can do to make both ends meet, and I really think took up gardening herself because she couldn't afford to pay for a gardener—but he deceived her in many ways, and never showed the least consideration for her wishes." "And she forgave him all?" "Yes, Miss Angel, that I am sure she did." "I think I understand why you have told me this." Angel said thoughtfully; "but I am afraid I can never be so good as Miss Goodwin." "She is good," Mrs. Vallance agreed heartily. "I often say I never knew any one like her. I lived with her for more than ten years, and all that time, though I dare say I continually tried her, for I was a thoughtless girl, she never said an unkind word to me; and when she used to reprove me, would do it so gently that it used to make me a great deal more sorry than if she'd spoken crossly. When I left her it was to be married, and all through my married life she was my best friend; then my poor husband died, and, having no children, I thought I'd go into service again, and Miss Goodwin, hearing your uncle wanted a housekeeper, advised me to offer for the post. I'd have liked to have gone back to live with my dear old mistress, but the servant she has suits her, and—well, here I am, and here I hope to remain, Miss Angel." "Oh, I hope so!" the little girl said earnestly. "Now it's about time I set about laying the dinner-cloth," Mrs. Vallance remarked briskly, for the folks will soon be out of church. Angel watched the housekeeper's trim, black-gowned figure moving quietly in and out of the room, and pondered over the story she had heard from her lips. How thankful Miss Goodwin must be that her love had never failed her brother. "I do believe you are feeling much better, are you not, Miss Angel?" asked Mrs. Vallance, as she glanced at the little girl's thoughtful face. "Yes, my headache is nearly gone," Angel replied, with a smile. She sprang up from the sofa as she spoke, and, taking up her Bible, ran upstairs to her own room, where she brushed her ruffled hair, and then stood at the open window, from which she had a view of the road from the church down the slope of the hill. She meant, at the first sight of her own people, to hasten to the garden gate to be in readiness to greet them with a brighter countenance than she had shown them when they had set out for church two hours before.