"I am sure you are very kind—more than kind," said Rhoda, after a little longer silence. "I don't know how to thank you, but I am afraid it won't do. I must keep my promise to Miss Hardy, because she depends upon me, and it would be a great inconvenience to her; and then I do think I ought to earn my own living. But you don't know how much good you have done me by just speaking of such a thing. I don't think the world will ever look so dark to me again. And if I may come and stay with you sometimes—" "Of course you may," said Mrs. Antis, a little disappointed, but at once understanding and sympathizing with Rhoda. "We shall be glad to have you any time." "And I think all the more of you for wishing to keep your engagement," said Mr. Antis. "I wish every one was as careful. I begin to think sometimes that there is no such thing as faithfulness left in the world. I have had half a dozen boys since Eben Fairchild left me, and not one that I could leave to measure a bushel of corn and be sure it would be done." "Good old Eben! How is he getting on now?" "Just the same steady way. He is going to Philadelphia to attend lectures next winter." And then ensued a flood of news and neighbourhood gossip about Boonville people. "Have you ever heard anything about Aunt Annie—I mean Mr. and Mrs. Evans?" asked Rhoda, at length. "Oh yes. They are in Scotland, so Mr. Evans's brother told me, and little Harry is so much better for the change that they mean to stay two or three years. Haven't you ever written to them?" "No," answered Rhoda; "I knew how Aunt Annie would feel, and I didn't want to make trouble in the family, as Mr. Weightman says I did between him and Aunt Hannah." "Did he say so? Well, he is a nice person!" The party arrived in Philadelphia without accident. And finding that Rhoda had a few hours to spare, Mr. Antis took a carriage and showed his wife and Rhoda part of the city. Rhoda saw the Mint, the stores in Chestnut street, and the American Sunday-school Union, * and other places that she had heard of. They had lunch at the Continental. * 1122 Chestnut street, Philadelphia, and which all of our readers are cordially invited to visit.—[EDITOR. And when the time came, Mr. Antis went down and saw her across the river and into the Cohansey train. "Now, remember, Rhoda, you have always got a home," said he as he shook hands with her. "Mr. Antis, you don't know how I thank you," said Rhoda, earnestly. "I couldn't say half what I wanted to Mrs. Antis, but it seems as if you had made everything easy to me. I hope Mrs. Antis won't think I don't value her kindness?" "No, no! Don't you worry yourself. Mrs. Antis understands, and so do I, and we shall think all the more of you. But I want you to tell me one thing, while I think of it. Did you ever know whether your aunt Hannah made a will?" "I know she did," said Rhoda. "She told me a year ago that she had, and that her affairs were all settled."