“And you’ve been the one bright spot in my life here ever since.” Hetty looked both touched and gratified. “There, it’s done at last!” she said presently, holding up their finished work, gazing at it admiringly for an instant as she shook out the rich folds; then carrying it to a closet, she hung it up carefully, shut and locked the door, putting the key in her pocket, and came back to Floy. “What is it?” she asked almost tenderly, for Floy sat in a despondent attitude, her elbow on the table, her cheek on her hand, while her eyes, gazing into vacancy, had a deeply sad, far-away look. “I was only thinking,” she answered with an effort to speak cheerfully; but her voice broke, and a sudden gush of tears followed the words. “Don’t mind me! I--I didn’t mean to!” she faltered, dashing away the bright drops and vainly struggling to recover her composure, as Hetty dropped on one knee at her side and put her arms affectionately about her. “You’re just worn out; that’s one trouble, but I’m afraid not the only one. I’m not curious, and don’t want to obtrude myself into your confidence, but if you want sympathy--I’d be ever so glad to give it. I--I’ve thought sometimes ’twould do you good to unburden your heart to some one. You’re homesick, I’m sure of that, for I know the symptoms. The home folks ought to write to you oftener than they do. I’ve noticed the postman has brought you only two or three letters since you came, and one of those was from an attorney at law.” “Yes, and the others were from one who is a dear, kind friend, but has no drop of my blood in her veins. Hetty, I never had a sister or brother. Last year--oh! only four short months ago--I was a petted only child, the darling of the best, kindest, dearest of parents; now--I am alone--all alone! The grave closed over them both in one day.” The last words were scarcely audible, but Hetty’s quick ear caught them, and her warm heart bled for the bereaved one. She clasped her more closely in her arms and wept with her. “Poor dear, poor dear!” she said, “what a pleasant home you must have had with them! Wouldn’t it do you good to talk of it to me?” Floy felt that it would, and in trembling, tearful tones drew a bright picture of the happy home of her childhood, the tender parental love and care that had made it such in no ordinary degree. Hetty was just the deeply-interested, sympathizing listener the poor heart craved, and the outpouring relieved it of half its load. “What a change for you--coming here!” was Hetty’s comment; “and how well you have borne it! so patient, so uncomplaining, so diligent, and faithful! I hardly know how you can have sufficient energy and ambition.” “A strange remark coming from you,” returned Floy, smiling faintly as she wiped away the tears she had been shedding to the memory of the dear ones gone, “you who seem to me to be the very embodiment of energy and ambition.”