"No, she isn't," said Philip pompously, "she's honorable, and one of the few females who can keep a secret. But I overheard it, Elsie, and feel pretty sure that the reason she whispered it, was to keep the poor girl from hearing. It's very natural she shouldn't want her to know she's afraid her sight's leaving her." "Oh, yes; I suppose that was it!" returned Elsie. "But you were very wise to think of it, Phil." "Don't flatter him," said Gertrude; "he thinks a great deal too much of himself, already." Dinner was just ready when they reached home, and their mammas were on the porch looking for them. "So there you are at last! what detained you so long?" said Mrs. Ross. "Went further than we intended; and then the rain, you know," said Philip. "And, oh, we had an adventure!" cried the girls, and hastened to tell it. Mrs. Travilla had not forgotten her old governess, and though no pleasant recollection of her lingered in her memory, neither was there any dislike or revengeful feeling there. She heard of her sorrows with commiseration and rejoiced in the ability to alleviate them. "That Mrs. Gibson!" exclaimed Lucy, "I've seen her many a time at the door or window, in driving past, and have often thought there was something familiar in her face, but never dreamed who she was. That hateful Miss Day! as I used to call her; Elsie, I wouldn't do a thing for her, if I were you. Why she treated you with absolute cruelty." "She was sometimes unjust and unkind," said Mrs. Travilla, smiling at her friend's vehemence, "but probably my sensitiveness, timidity and stupidity, were often very trying." "No such thing!--if you will excuse me for contradicting you--everybody that knew you then, would testify that you were the sweetest, dearest, most patient, industrious little thing that ever was made." Elsie laughed and shook her head, "Ah, Lucy, you always flattered me; never were jealous even when I was held up to you as a pattern an evidence that yours was a remarkably sweet disposition. Now, tell me, please, if you know anything about these Gibsons?" "Not much; they came to that hut years ago, evidently very poor, and quite as evidently--so report says--having seen better days. The husband and father drank deeply, and the wife earned a scanty support for the family by sewing and knitting; that is about all I know of them, except that several of their children died of scarlet fever within a few days of each other, soon after they came to the neighborhood, and that a year ago last winter, the man, coming home very drunk, fell into a snow-drift, and next day was found frozen to death. I was told at that time they had only two children--a son who was following in his father's footsteps, and this daughter." "Poor woman!" sighed Elsie, "she is sorely tried and afflicted. I must go to her at once." "Do, mamma, and get a doctor for her," said little Elsie; "she looked so sick and miserable."