Maggie knew how useless it would be to argue the point, so with a dejected air she seated herself at the open window and silently watched her aunt until she disappeared in the distance—then taking up her book, she tried to study, but could not, for the heavy pain at her heart which kept whispering of injustice done to her, unconsciously, perhaps, by the only mother she had ever known. Very dear to Miss Macey were the orphan children of her only sister, and faithfully did she strive to fulfil her trust, but she could not conceal the partiality for fun-loving curly-haired Ben, nor the fact that the sensitive and ambitious Maggie, who thirsted for knowledge, was wholly unappreciated and misunderstood. Learning—learning was what Maggie craved, and she sat there alone that bright June afternoon, holding upon her lap the head of her sleeping brother, and watching the summer shadows as they chased each other over the velvety grass in the meadow beyond, she wondered if it would be ever thus with her—would there never come a time when she could pursue her studies undisturbed, and then, as the thought that this day made her fifteen years of age, her mind went forward to the future, and she said aloud—‘Yes—three years from to-day and I shall be free—free as the air I breathe!’ But why that start, sweet Maggie Lee? Why that involuntary shudder as you think of the long three years from now? She cannot tell, but the shadows deepened on her fair, girlish face, and leaning her brow upon her hand, she thinks long and earnestly of what the three years may bring. A footstep on the floor—the first which has fallen that afternoon—and Maggie looks up to see before her a tall, fine looking man, who, the moment his eyes fell upon her, checked the whistle, intended for his dog, which was trembling on his lip, and lifting his hat deferentially, he asked if ‘this were Miss Macey’s store?’ ‘Yes, sir,’ answered Maggie, and laying Bennie gently down, she went around behind the counter, while the young man, gazing curiously at her, continued, ‘You surely are not Miss Macey?’ There was a most comical expression in the brown eyes which met the black ones of the stranger, as Maggie answered, ‘No sir, I am nobody but Maggie Lee.’ There must have been something attractive either in the name or the little maiden who bore it, for long after the gentleman had received the article for which he came, he lingered, asking the young girl numberless questions and playing with little Ben, who, now wide awake, met his advances more than half way, and was on perfectly familiar terms both with the stranger and the dog Ponto, who had stretched his shaggy length before the door. ‘Mag cries, she does, when Aunt Livy makes her stay home from school,’ said Ben, at last, beginning to feel neglected and wishing to attract attention.