"Didn't you recognize her?" asked Mrs. Antis. "That was Rhoda. I don't think she is so very much altered." "What! Not Rhoda Bowers! Not the girl we had, and—" "And got rid of," said Mrs. Antis, finishing the sentence. "Yes, the same. She has been abroad, travelling and taking lessons, and she is called the best educated young woman in Milby." "I suppose Uncle Jacob's money did it all," said Mrs. Bowers, with a sour smile. "Not at all," answered Mr. Antis. "Rhoda has never touched Uncle Jacob's money. She just lets it accumulate, and means to found some kind of school or asylum with it as soon as she is of age." "But how was it, then? And who is this old gentleman she calls 'father'?" "Oh, it is a romantic story. Rhoda worked out at Mr. Ferrand's, it seems, and went from there to his sister-in-law, who has a girls' school. She showed so much talent and such a good disposition that Miss Hardy took her into the school. There she and Ferrand's daughter struck up a great friendship—" "Now you are not quite right, William," said his wife. "They were attached to each other before that." "Well, anyhow, when Miss Ferrand was broken down by 'cramming,' Rhoda left school and everything for the sake of nursing her, and after her death, the Ferrands adopted Rhoda in her place." "And I suppose she is stuck up to the skies?" sneered Mrs. Bowers. "Not a bit of it. She has been to visit us at Boonville since she came home, and everybody says she is just the same simple, openhearted girl she always was. She asked about you, and said she had visited your sister in Scotland." "I have always felt that we made a mistake in sending Rhoda away," said Mr. Bowers, who had hitherto been quite silent. "We took her for our own, and we ought to have kept her, whatever Uncle Jacob might say. Then we should have had a child to care for us in our old age, instead of being left alone. Rhoda was always a good girl, and one that would have turned out well anywhere, and I am right glad she has had such good luck. Tell her so, Antis, will you? And tell her that, rich as I am, I would give it all to get back the child I turned away for the sake of a little more money." "Why not go and see her and tell her so yourself?" asked Mr. Antis. "No, it would be only an aggravation. But tell her that I ask her forgiveness, and that it would be a comfort if she would send it to me." THE END.