"You're worn out, honey; that is just what it is," said Chloe. "You ain't made of cast iron more than any one else. Eat your supper, and take care of your new frock. Milk spots black worse than anything." Calista took the advice given her, and then retreated to the front parlor. She had never examined the little cupboards by the chimney. Indeed, they had usually been kept locked, but now they were open, and Calista eagerly looked over their contents. There were a few very early specimens of the Annuals—a species of literature which seems to have wholly died out; but the books mostly consisted of sets of the "Spectator" and "Rambler," and religious books of which there were a good many and of high character—Thomas à Kempis, Taylor's "Holy Living," "The Whole Duty of Man," Law's "Serious Call," and the like. Calista took down the last, and was soon fascinated, as any person of taste must be, by the exquisite style, the wit, and solid excellence of the matter. She read till it was too dark to see, and then sat watching the fireflies, which spangled everything, and the moon, which just touched the higher clouds with silver. She tried to keep her thoughts on other things, but the questions would rise, "What was she to do? Was it her duty to stay on where she was? Could she possibly live with Aunt Priscilla?" "But I am borrowing trouble," she said to herself at last. "My aunt gave up all care of me to Miss Druett, and she said Mr. Fabian was my guardian and would decide for me, so, of course, he will settle all that. I wouldn't be him when he calls to-morrow. I don't think aunt need grudge me my little fortune. Surely she has enough. I heard Mr. Fabian and that other gentleman say that the estate had increased in value tenfold. But I will not think of business to-night—so there!" And drawing nearer to her the candle Chloe had brought, she applied herself once more to the "Serious Call." She read on, more and more interested, till a sudden rustle caused her to turn round. Some one was at the window, that was certain; some one who disappeared in a moment. She went to the window and looked out. There was nothing to be seen, but as she drew together and barred the shutters, she heard a low hollow laugh or chuckle, which she knew too well. "So that horrid woman has come back," she said to herself. "Mr. Fabian is right. It will never do for me to stay here." She could not feel very comfortable alone in the great room with its heavy, faded damask hanging, where her one candle made such grim shadows of the old-fashioned furniture. She took her book and candle, and, slipping off her shoes, she crept softly up to her own room and fastened the door, which had no bolt inside, by putting one of her trunks against it. She sat reading a long time, till all was quiet in the house. Then she said her prayers, and going to bed, she fell asleep like a baby.