"Why, did she go away twice?" asked Calista. "Yes. She set out at eight o'clock, but something happened to the horse's foot, and uncle had to go to the blacksmith's; so Antoinette came back and waited till he was ready. She left the room here just as the quarter to nine bell was ringing, but she did not go away directly, I know. I heard her go into the school-room; I always know the peculiar squeak of her boots. Why?" "Only that one of the girls thought she saw her in the school-room after the first bell rung, and Miss Meeks said it must be a mistake, because Antoinette went away at eight," said Calista, rejoicing in the power Tessy had given her of so far clearing Mary. "Good-bye, dear; I shall bring you some flowers Monday. I know where I can find some late laurel, and perhaps a moccasin-flower or two." "Oh, thank you! I do love laurel, and I have not been able to get out to gather any this year." Calista went straight to Miss Meeks's room, but she had gone out. Miss Jessy was sitting with Miss McPherson, who had just fallen asleep, and must not be disturbed on any account. "I don't see but I must let the thing rest till Monday," said Calista to Mary, after she had told her Tessy's story. "You might call and see Mary Burns herself," suggested Mary Settson. "But perhaps it would be as well to leave the whole matter till Monday, as you say. Mary needs a lesson." "She may need a lesson, but I don't care to be the one to give it to her," answered Calista, with some warmth; "and I don't think I should thank any one for giving such a lesson to me. Would you?" "Perhaps not," answered Mary; "and yet it might very good to me, for all that." "Well, I don't feel any special mission for doing people good by keeping them in uncomfortable suspense when there is no need for it," returned Calista. "I would rather do as I would be done by. Come, let us stop and see Mary." They were disappointed again. Mary had gone to her aunt's directly after school, and would probably stay all night, as her aunt was more than usually unwell. "I can't go all the way up to Mrs. Rolfe's, that is certain," said Calista; "and I don't like to leave a message either. Well, let it go. Perhaps you will see her or Miss Meeks to-morrow. If you do, please tell them what Tessy says. Come, I must do Miss Druett's errands." The errands were accomplished, and then Calista did one for herself. With a part of her dollar she bought a pound of sperm-candles—an article much cheaper and better than the parafine-candles which have taken their place. "What on earth did you do that for?" asked Mary, as they turned into the street. Calista laughed, and then became suddenly grave as she said—"I suppose you cannot realize what it is never to be allowed a light when you go to bed, except perhaps a mite of tallow-candle in winter." "You don't mean to say you never have a light in your own room!" "Neither light nor fire, except as I told you, in the dead of winter." "But Miss Druett—"