"Yes, I know; but he will not miss me; he has got you to talk to him, Cara, and I feel I must have a walk. I am sure he will understand," she returned deprecatingly. "Well, if you like to be so ungracious it is not my business to interfere," retorted Miss Charity in a displeased tone. "If you are only going to sit in the corner and not open your lips when he comes in, you may just as well be out. But he won't have a high opinion of your politeness." "I cannot help that," returned Faith, wearily. Another afternoon of needle-work and her sister's sharp speeches was not to be borne. She began to feel a dread of these visits, they made her so uncomfortable. "Well, put on your waterproof, if you must go," snapped Miss Charity, aggravated at Faith's unwonted resolution. "The rain will only keep off for an hour, and you will get nicely soaked." And Faith meekly acquiesced. The waterproof was not a becoming garment, it was almost as shabby as Queenie's; the shapeless folds quite disguised her neat figure. She had on her old brown hat too, that suited her less well than her little Quaker bonnets; but Faith knew she would have one of Charity's sharp lectures on extravagance if she got her nice bonnet ribbons soiled, for, with their modest expenditure, even bonnet ribbons had to be considered. It was a severe shock to her womanly vanity when, a little way down the road, she met Dr. Stewart. The grey waterproof might be considered fit raiment for such an uncertain afternoon, but the old brown hat! Faith smarted with mortified vanity down to her finger-ends. He was on foot, as it happened, and he turned back and walked with her a little way, but he scanned the cloak and the hat rather quizzically as he did so. "So you went out to avoid me, did you, Miss Faith," he said good-humoredly; but the sudden question grazed the truth so closely that Faith's pale cheeks flamed up in a moment. "I have not been out for three days, and then my head has been so bad," she stammered. She was not asking for his sympathy, but she wished to defend herself from all charge of rudeness. "Do you always suffer from these headaches?" he asked suddenly. "No, not always; but they have been pretty bad lately," she returned indifferently. "I suppose the close room does it. Cara is so afraid of draughts, and so much reading does not suit me." "I think the others ought to take their turn. I mean to tell Miss Charity so some day." "Oh, no; pray do not," in much distress. "It does not really hurt me, not much; and Cara does so dislike Hope's reading, it is too loud and fast for an invalid." "She must be taught to read slower then." "Oh, no; you must not say anything about it," imploringly. "I have nothing else to do but to wait upon Cara, it is right for me to do it; and if it hurts me what does it matter? We cannot live for our own pleasure," continued Faith, walking fast and nervously, but he checked her.