Kitty rose as she spoke, and stood before him with a beseeching little gesture, and a confiding air quite captivating to behold. Christie was suddenly seized with a strong desire to shake the girl and call her an “artful little hussy,” but crushed this unaccountable impulse, and hemmed a pocket-handkerchief with reckless rapidity, while she stole covert glances at the tableau by the fire. David put his finger under Kitty’s round chin, and lifting her face looked into it, trying to discover if she really cared for this suitor who seemed so providentially provided for her. Kitty smiled and blushed, and dimpled under that grave look so prettily that it soon changed, and David let her go, saying indulgently: “You shall not be troubled, for you are only a child after all. Let the lovers go, and stay and play with me, for I’ve been rather lonely lately.” “That’s a reproach for me,” thought Christie, longing to cry out: “No, no; send the girl away and let me be all in all to you.” But she only turned up the lamp and pretended to be looking for a spool, while her heart ached and her eyes were too dim for seeing. “I’m too old to play, but I’ll stay and tease you as I used to, if Miles don’t come and carry me off as he said he would,” answered Kitty, with a toss of the head which showed she was not so childlike as David fancied. But the next minute she was sitting on a stool at his feet petting the cat, while she told her adventures with girlish volubility. Christie could not bear to sit and look on any longer, so she left the room, saying she would see if Mrs. Sterling wanted any thing, for the old lady kept her room with a touch of rheumatism. As she shut the door, Christie heard Kitty say softly: “Now we’ll be comfortable as we used to be: won’t we?” What David answered Christie did not stay to hear, but went into the kitchen, and had her first pang of jealousy out alone, while she beat up the buckwheats for breakfast with an energy that made them miracles of lightness on the morrow. When she told Mrs. Sterling of the new arrival, the placid little lady gave a cluck of regret and said with unusual emphasis: “I’m sorry for it.” “Why?” asked Christie, feeling as if she could embrace the speaker for the words. “She is a giddy little thing, and much care to whoever befriends her.” Mrs. Sterling would say no more, but, as Christie bade her good-night, she held her hand, saying with a kiss: “No one will take thy place with me, my daughter.” For a week Christie suffered constant pin-pricks of jealousy, despising herself all the time, and trying to be friendly with the disturber of her peace. As if prompted by an evil spirit, Kitty unconsciously tried and tormented her from morning to night, and no one saw or guessed it unless Mrs. Sterling’s motherly heart divined the truth. David seemed to enjoy the girl’s lively chat, her openly expressed affection, and the fresh young face that always brightened when he came.