Mrs. Howth never put up the shield between herself and this member of "the class,"--because, perhaps, she was so wretchedly low in the social scale. However, I suppose she never gave a reason for it even to herself. Nobody could help being kind to Lois, even if he tried. Joel brought the coffee with more readiness than he would have waited on Mrs. Howth. "Barney will be jealous," he said, patting the bare ribs of the old donkey, and glancing wistfully at his mistress. "Give him his supper, surely," she said, taking the hint. It was a real treat to see how Lois enjoyed her supper, sipping and tasting the warm coffee, her face in a glow, like an epicure over some rare Falernian. You would be sure, from, just that little thing, that no sparkle of warmth or pleasure in the world slipped by her which she did not catch and enjoy and be thankful for to the uttermost. You would think, perhaps, pitifully, that not much pleasure or warmth would ever go down so low, within her reach. Now that she stood on the ground, she scarcely came up to the level of the wheel; some deformity of her legs made her walk with a curious rolling jerk, very comical to see. She laughed at it, when other people did; if it vexed her at all, she never showed it. She had turned back her calico sun-bonnet, and stood looking up at Mrs. Howth and Joel, laughing as they talked--with her. The face would have startled you on so old and stunted a body. It was a child's face, quick, eager, with that pitiful beauty you always see in deformed people. Her eyes, I think, were the kindliest, the hopefullest I ever saw. Nothing but the pale thickness of her skin betrayed the fact that set Lois apart from even the poorest poor,--the taint in her veins of black blood. "Whoy! be n't this Tiger?" said Joel, as the dog ran yelping about him. "How comed yoh with him, Lois?" "Tiger an' his master's good friends o' mine,--you remember they allus was. An' he's back now, Mr. Holmes,--been back for a month." Margaret, walking in the porch with her father, stopped. "Are you tired, father? It is late." "And you are worn out, poor child! It was selfish in me to forget. Good-night, dear!" Margaret kissed him, laughing cheerfully, as she led him to his room-door. He lingered, holding her dress. "Perhaps it will be easier for you tomorrow than it was to-day?" hesitating. "I am sure it will. To-morrow will be sure to be better than to-day." She left him, and went away with a slow step that did not echo the promise of her words. Joel, meanwhile, consulted apart with his mistress. "Of course," she said, emphatically.--"You must stay until morning, Lois. It is too late. Joel will toss you up a bed in the loft." The queer little body hesitated. "I can stay," she said, at last. "It's his watch at the mill to-night." "Whose watch?" demanded Joel. Her face brightened. "Father's. He's back, mum." Joel caught himself in a whistle. "He's very stiddy, Joel,--as stiddy as yuh."