They moved on with Mrs. Conly's last word, and the young girl sprang to her feet, her cheeks aflame, her eyes glittering, her small hand clenched till the nails sank into the soft flesh. "How dare they talk so of mamma! and papa too, dear, dear papa!" she exclaimed half aloud; then her anger and grief found vent in a burst of bitter weeping as she cast herself down upon the seat from which she had risen, and bowed her head upon her hands. The storm of feeling was so violent that she did not hear a light, approaching footstep, did not know that any one was near until she felt herself taken into loving arms that clasped her close, while her mamma's sweet voice asked in tenderest tones, "my poor darling, what can have caused you such distress?" "Mamma, mamma, don't ask me! please don't ask me!" she cried, hiding her blushing, tearful face on her mother's bosom. "Has my dear Vi then secrets from her mother?" Elsie asked in tones of half reproachful tenderness. "Only because it would distress you to know, dearest mamma. Oh I could not bear to hurt you so!" sobbed the poor girl. "Still tell me, dearest" urged the mother. "Nothing could hurt me so sorely as the loss of my child's confidence." "Then mamma, I will; but oh don't think that I believe one word of it all." Then with a little hesitation. "I think mamma, that I am not doing wrong to tell you, though the words were not meant for my ear?" "I think not, my dear child, since it seems it is something that concerns both you and me." The short colloquy had burnt itself into Violet's brain and she repeated it verbatim. It caused her loved listener a sharper pang than she knew or supposed. Elsie was deeply hurt and for a moment her indignation waxed hot against her ungrateful, heartless relations. Then her heart sent up a strong cry for help to forgive even as she would be forgiven. But she must comfort Vi, and how vividly at this moment did memory recall a little scene in her own early childhood when she was in like sore distress from a similar fear, roused in very nearly the same manner; and her father comforted her. "Vi, darling," she said in quivering tones, and with a tender caress, "it is altogether a mistake. And you need never fear anything of the kind. Your beloved father is no more dead to me than though he were but in the next room. His place is not now--can never be, vacant in either my home or my heart. We are separated for time by 'the stream--the narrow stream of death,' but when I, too, have crossed it, we shall be together, never to part again." THE END. A LIST OF THE ELSIE BOOKS AND OTHER POPULAR BOOKS BY MARTHA FINLEY