When Ellen entered, Abby stared, then her whole face lighted up, as if from some internal lamp. "Why, Ellen, is that you?" she said, in a surprisingly sweet voice. Sometimes Abby's sharp American voice rang with the sweetness of a soft bell. "I thought I'd run over a minute," said Ellen. The other girl looked sharply at her. "Why, what's the matter?" she said. "Nothing is the matter. Why?" "Why, I thought you looked sort of queer. Maybe it's the light. Sit down; I'll have the dishes done in a minute, then we'll go into the sitting-room." "I'd rather stay out here with you," said Ellen. Abby looked at her again. "There is something the matter, Ellen Brewster," said she; "you can't cheat me. You would never have run over here this way in the world. What has happened?" "Let's go up to your room after the dishes are done, and then I'll tell you," whispered Ellen. The men's voices on the piazza could be heard quite distinctly, and it seemed possible that their own conversation might be overheard in return. "All right," said Abby. "Of course I have heard about your aunt," she added, in a low voice. "Yes," said Ellen, and she felt shamed and remorseful that her own affairs had been uppermost in her mind, and that Abby had supposed that she might be disturbed over this great trouble of her poor aunt's. "I think it is dreadful," said Abby. "I wish I could get hold of that woman." By "that woman" she meant the woman with whom poor Jim Tenny had eloped. "I do," said Ellen, bitterly. "But it's something besides that made you run over here," said Abby. "I'll tell you when we go up to your room," replied Ellen. When the dishes were finished, and the two girls in Abby's little chamber, seated side by side on the bed, Ellen still hesitated. "Now, Ellen Brewster, what is the matter? You said you would tell, and you've got to," said Abby. Ellen looked away from her, blushing. The electric-light from the street shone full in the room, which was wavering with grotesque shadows. "Well," said she, "I ran away." "You ran away! What for?" "Oh, because." "Because what?" "Because I saw somebody coming." "Saw who coming?" Ellen was silent. "Not Granville Joy?" Ellen shook her head. "Not--?" Ellen looked straight ahead. "Not young Mr. Lloyd?" Ellen was silent with the silence of assent. "Did he go into your house?" Ellen nodded. "Where were you?" "In grandma's." "And you ran away, over here?" Ellen nodded. "Why, Ellen Brewster, didn't you want to see him?" Ellen turned from Abby with an impatient gesture, buried her face in the bed, and began to weep. Abby leaned over her caressingly. "Ellen dear," she whispered, "what is the matter; what are you crying for? What made you run away?" Ellen sobbed harder. Abby looked at Ellen's prostrate figure sadly. "Ellen," she began; then she stopped, for her own voice quivered. Then she went on, quite steadily. "Ellen," she said, "you like him."