Once in the room Luella found her hostess so entertaining that she stayed another ten minutes, admiring the pretty things which closet and dresser revealed, and which under ordinary circumstances their owner would have guarded sedulously from these inquisitive eyes and loquacious lips. However, it was all for Miss Linda. Of course, Blanche Aurora couldn't be certain that her adored one wanted this extra latitude, but her absorption in Linda had made her preternaturally observing; besides, she remembered those sobs. Her quick conclusion was that it were better to let Luella Benslow tell all over the neighborhood about her stockings and petticoats than to interrupt the interview which the spyglass had revealed. "Why, it must be time for the folks to be gettin' home!" ejaculated Miss Benslow at last, with a return of panic. "I'll have to run every step o' the way." Blanche Aurora gave a sweet smile of contentment and sought no further to detain her guest. She watched from the window, and laughed wickedly as the ostrich feather veered and swung in the half-lope, half-run of its conscience-smitten wearer. Halfway across the field Miss Benslow met a white-clothed figure moving unhurriedly. "Why, Miss Linda, I thought you was to Portland," she said, breathless from her race. At the same time a hope sprang within her. "Was you to my house?" she added. "Yes." "I'm real sorry we was all out, 'cause you ain't ben neighborly." Miss Benslow strove for easy elegance, but she was out of breath, and again that pesky parasol had caught in her fringe. "Did you see Mr. King?" "Yes." "I'd ought to ben home sooner to give him his tea, but I hadn't a time-piece with me." "I gave him his tea." "Oh, I'm so thankful! Now I can ketch my breath. You'll call again, won't you?" The radiant young girl blessed Miss Benslow with a wonderful smile. "Yes. I'll come again to-morrow," she answered graciously, and passed on her way. Miss Benslow turned to look after the lithe, graceful figure crossing Elysian fields. "It's the first time I ever got a square look at her," she soliloquized in surprise at her own impression. "She's a--a"--she hesitated for a simile for the perfect simplicity of the girl's appearance, and that enchanting smile. "I'd call her a sunlight beauty," she finished, and trudged on. Blanche Aurora, watching the road at the back of the house for Captain Jerry's carriage, didn't see Linda until she had nearly reached the piazza. The child then ran to the front door and in her eagerness slammed the screen behind her and stood waiting. As soon as she met her friend's eyes she began to flush. Yes, it had been worth while! It surely had been worth while! Her heart hammered. The white figure came on out of the sunshine into the shadow where Blanche Aurora stood transfixed. "You good little thing," said Linda slowly, and she put an arm around the small shoulders and stooping, kissed a burning cheek.