"Do come in, Betty," she said, in a loud whisper that must have been distinctly audible inside the room. "What a time you have been! and there is a friend of yours waiting for you." Bessie quickened her steps, feeling somewhat mystified by Christine's manner, and the next moment she was face to face with Edna. Bessie turned very pale and could hardly speak at first for surprise and emotion; but Edna took her in her arms and kissed her. "My dear Bessie," she said softly; and then she laughed a little nervously, and it was not the old musical laugh at all--"are you very surprised to see me? Oh, it was a bright idea of mine. I have been visiting those same friends (I had returned from them that day, you know, when we were snowed up together). Well, when I saw Sheen Valley, all of a sudden the thought popped into my head that I would stop at Cliffe, and take a later train; so I telegraphed to mamma, who is in London, and now I have a whole hour to spend with you. Is not that nice?" "Very nice indeed. I am so glad to see you, Edna; but you are looking delicate; you have lost your color." "What nonsense!" with a touch of her old impatience. "You are as bad as mamma; she is always finding fault with me. People who live in glass houses should not throw stones at their neighbors. You do not look like yourself either, Bessie." "Oh, that is different," and Bessie's lips trembled a little; "I have gone through so much since we parted. I try to take it properly, and every one helps me, but I think I miss my Hatty more every day." "You want a change," returned Edna kindly, for she was much touched by the alteration in her friend's looks. Bessie had lost her pretty fresh color, and looked pale and subdued in her black dress; her gray eyes had a sad look in them, even her voice had lost its old cheery tones, and her very movements were quieter; the bright elasticity that had been her charm was missing now, and yet Edna thought she had never looked so sweet. "My poor little Daisy," she continued, "you have a crushed look. You want country air to revive you. Will you come to us? Mamma will be delighted; you are such a favorite of hers; and as for myself, I want you more than I can say." "Not yet; I could not leave mother yet," returned Bessie; but a faint color stole into her face. No, she could not leave her post, and yet it would have been nice to see The Grange again, and Richard's friendly face; he had been so kind to her; and there was Whitefoot, and the dear dogs, and the lanes would be full of hips and haws. "No, not yet; but I should like to come again one day."