"If we knew about the hidden life of most people, I dare say we should find more to pity than condemn," observed Mir McPherson. "But now that you know—in confidence, remember—thus much about poor Miss Meeks, I am sure you will go and ask her pardon and make friends with her." "I will go this minute," said Calista, starting up; "and, Miss McPherson, I am sorry I have made you so much trouble." "Pardon is granted, my child. As to the bone of contention—the working-case—I do not understand all the circumstances, and so I have nothing to say; only, my dear, whatever happens, never be tempted into being sly or doing anything underhanded. Mind, I don't say you have, but, situated as you are, the temptation is likely enough to beset you. For the sake of your own soul, I beseech you not to yield to it. Now go and find poor Miss Meeks." Calista knocked at the door of Miss Meeks's room in the third story, and hearing a sound which she took for "Come in," she opened the door. The room was darkened, but she saw Miss Meeks leaning back in the rocking-chair. "I beg your pardon, Miss Meeks," she began. And then, with a sudden change of tone, "But what is the matter?" Miss Meeks did not answer except by a feeble motion of the hand and a moan. Much alarmed, Calista sprung to her side. "Are you faint, Miss Meeks? Shall I call some one?" "Shut the door!" whispered Miss Meeks. Calista did so and returned, but Miss Meeks was clearly fainting. Calista had the nursing instinct—the capacity of doing the right thing—which is born with some people, and which others never acquire. She loosened the broad ribbon belt and buckle which Miss Meeks wore, and slipping her hand behind her, unhooked her dress. "How can she dress so tight? No wonder she is faint!" was her thought. Miss Meeks wore a thick white cape crossed over the bosom of her low-cut dress—all dresses were cut low at that time. Calista opened it to give the patient air, but with the instinctive delicacy of a born lady she closed it again. She had had a glimpse of poor Miss Meeks's hidden trouble, and a glimpse was enough. "Poor thing! I won't bring any one to spy on her," her first thought. She sought on the toilet table for a bottle of cologne, with which she bathed the face of her patient, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing her color come back. Miss Meeks opened her eyes, put her hand up to her neck, and started. "You are better," said Calista, gently. "Shall I help you to lie down on the bed?" "No, no; I am better in the chair. My drops—in a little bottle—do you see?" "Is this it?" asked Calista. "How much?" "Ten drops, in water." Calista prepared the medicine and gave it into her hand. She swallowed it eagerly, and then, looking up, seemed for the first time to understand who her companion was. "Is this you, Calista? How came you here?"