"Yes; but then troubles slip off some people like rain off a cabbage-leaf, but it soaks into me like it does into a sponge. I can't shake it off nohow. I don't know how it is, I'm sure," and she put her bundle down on her lap and began to smooth the towels with her hands. "You are very highly strung," began Phebe. "Yes, I know that, but you're about the first one that has said so; everybody seems to think I ought to be made of cast-iron. I'm sure the trouble that Bessie of mine's been to me nobody knows. And then to think she can be such an angel to you while to her own mother she can never be anything but a worry!--it's exasperating! It makes me wild when I think of it." "I am sorry you feel like that. I know Bessie loves you dearly, and she is gaining so much more control that I thought you would have noticed a real improvement in her. Of course I know she is rather thoughtless--but there, you are proud of her for all that, and she is a girl any mother might be proud of!" "I don't know about that," but a little pleasanter look came on to her face which seemed to contradict her words. "But I did not come in to talk about Bessie," went on Phebe, "I came in to speak to you about yourself. I was saying to Nanna last night I did not think I had acted the neighbour's part to you; I have seldom ever been in even to ask how you were." "I am sure it is very kind of you," put in Mrs. Marchant, and she really meant it. We all like to be made of some importance. "I think housewives need all the cheer and sunshine they can get,"--Phebe suddenly paused, for Phill just at that moment came into the room, and Phebe then noticed, what she had not done before, that dinner for one was laid at the end of the table. Evidently Phill had come in with the intention of sitting down there; if so, it was "good-bye" to all private talk with his mother. After a few scattered remarks Phebe departed. "You have not been long," remarked Nanna; "what success have you had?" "Not any," answered Phebe; "just as I was drawing near to say something helpful Phill came in, and then my opportunity had gone. His arrival on the scene quite spoilt my little plan." But had it? If Phebe had known a little more of the Unseen Hand which shapes our lives, she would not have been quite so sure her little plan was spoilt. The sight of Mrs. Waring brought to Phill Marchant's mind a little train of thought he had been cogitating over lately, and as soon as she left he remarked to his mother: "Mrs. Waring has got something you haven't got, mother." "What's that?" snapped the mother. "I'm as well off as she is any day. She's got no jewellery to speak of, and goodness knows, her house is poor enough!" "Oh, I don't mean that sort of thing." "Well, what do you mean?"