They had ceased to move together,—unavoidably, when one had a dog and the other had not,—but neither was yet awake to the fact that they no longer thought and felt alike. One morning they sat, like the reflection of each other, on either side of a work-table: each making herself a frill of the same material; each with her footstool: and that the left foot of the one, and the right of the other was advanced, only made the resemblance more complete. The difference was that Anne attended to her work, while Sarah peered anxiously through the glass door which communicated with the office, where her father might be seen reading a letter. After a while, Anne reared her chin to try on the frill. “Let me see how yours looks,” said she. “Sarah! here is mine finished; and yours is not done!” Sarah began to ply her needle, uneasy at being left behind. Anne amused herself with stroking and coaxing the greyhound. She did not think of beginning any other employment till Sarah should be ready. “I wonder why Mr. Cranston did not give me a greyhound!” observed Anne. “I dare say my father will,” replied Sarah. “But I had rather Mr. Cranston had. I am afraid,—I am pretty sure, Mr. Cranston does not like me.” “O yes, he does.” “How do you know? Did he tell you so?—Why did not he tell me? He never told me that he liked you.” A deep blush spread itself over Sarah’s cheeks. “I never saw anybody like Mr. Cranston,” pursued Anne. “None of the gentlemen that have passed through A—— have been the least like him.” “O, no: nor ever will.” “His manner is so—I don’t know what. And his voice——” “You may know it among a hundred;—as far off as you can hear it.” “It goes through one’s heart.—How dull the day is now when he does not come!” “But he does come every day.” “No: not last Wednesday.” “O yes! he did. But he did not stay very long: and you were in the field with George, looking after the foal. He has never once missed a day yet.” Anne’s face was crimson while she asked why she had not seen him; why she had not been told: why——she stopped because she could not go on, and Sarah had nothing more to say than that she did not see that there was any particular occasion for telling. “Where did he come?” demanded Anne. “Was he in this room, or in the paddock, or where?” “I had my bonnet on, just coming to you in the field,” replied Sarah:— “my bonnet _was_ on; and so I went with him;—he wanted to show me something in the park.” “Why did not you call me? I could have come in a moment.”