'Just so, and she knows her power over you. I am afraid she gives you a great deal to bear, Miss Locke.' 'I never mind it from her,' she answered simply. 'She is all I have in the world except Kitty, and I am thinking what I can do for her from morning to night; that is the best and the worst of my work, one need never stop thinking for it. Sometimes, when I am tired, or things have gone wrong with my customers, or I am a bit behindhand with the rent, I wish I could talk it over with her; it would ease me somehow; but I never do give way to the feeling, for it would only fret and worry her.' 'You are wrong,' I returned warmly. 'Mr. Hamilton would tell you so if you asked him. Any worry, any outside trouble, would be better for Phoebe than this unhealthy feeding on herself. Take my advice, Miss Locke, talk about yourself and your own troubles. Phoebe is fond of you, it will rouse her to enter more into your life.' Miss Locke shook her head, and the tears came into her mild hazel eyes. 'There is One who knows it all. I'll not be troubling my poor Phoebe,' she said, and her hands trembled a little. Kitty came in at this moment and said her aunt Phoebe wanted her, so we were obliged to break off the conversation. I thought about it all rather sadly as I sat by my solitary fire that evening with Tinker's head on my lap. He had taken to me, and I always found him waiting for my return; but it was less of Phoebe than of Susan I was thinking. I was so absorbed in my reflections that Uncle Max's voice outside quite startled me. 'May I come in, Ursula?' he said, thrusting in his head. 'I have been at the choir-practice, so I thought I would call as I passed.' Of course I gave him a warm welcome, and he drew his chair to the opposite side of the fire, and declared he felt very comfortable: then he asked me why I was looking grave, and if I were tired of my solitude. I disclaimed this indignantly, and gave him a sketch of my day's work, ending with my talk to Susan Locke. He seemed interested, and listened attentively. 'It is such a sad case, Max,--poor Phoebe's, I mean,--but I am almost as sorry for her sister. Susan Locke is such a good woman.' 'You would say so if you knew all, Ursula, but Miss Locke would never tell you herself. When Phoebe's illness came on, and Hamilton told them that she might not get well for a year or two, or perhaps longer, Susan broke off her own engagement to stay with her sister. Her father was just dead, and the child Kitty had to live with them.' 'Miss Locke engaged!' I exclaimed, in some surprise, for it had never struck me that the homely middle-aged woman had this sort of experience in her life. Max looked amused.