At first she was given a few light tasks to avert suspicions, and lead her to think that everything was right. Then Mrs. Bowers began to flatter her, and one day she said: "You are too pretty and refined, Jennie, to stay in the kitchen with that vulgar cook. You shall stay in the parlor and be my companion." Nothing could have pleased the vain little creature better, for she thought that her master would respect her more in her new situation, and also that she would have more frequent opportunities of seeing him than had fallen to her lot in her menial position. She accordingly consented with ill-concealed delight. Leon Vinton had played his cards very cleverly to win the farmer's pretty daughter. She saw him very seldom at first, as he spent the greater part of his time in town, only visiting the cottage two or three times in the space of a week. On the occasion of these visits Jennie saw but little of him, but some glance of his eye or tender smile made her heart beat fast and kept him in her thoughts when he was away. But when the little maid was promoted to the parlor, Leon Vinton began to appear at home more frequently. He lounged about the parlor with his cigar and newspaper, and chatted a great deal with his pretended sister and her pretty little companion. Very often Mrs. Bowers would leave the room, and remain away for hours, leaving the handsome man and susceptible girl alone together. On one of these occasions he threw away his cigar, and took a seat by Jennie. She looked up from a trifle of sewing in her hand, and then, with a deep blush, let her glance fall to the rich velvet carpet. Mr. Vinton looked at her admiringly. Mrs. Bowers had presented her with a fine dark-blue cashmere dress, and with soft, white laces at throat and wrists, and a few bright-colored ribbons, the little country girl looked quite the lady. Leon Vinton confessed to himself that she was wonderfully pretty in her new surroundings. They suited her beauty much better than the homely, humble farm-house had done. "Jennie," he said abruptly, "do you know that the probationary month which your father allowed you with us is at an end to-day?" She started, and looked at him, the pretty pink color fading from her cheeks, a look of alarm in her dark eyes. "Yes, I know," she faltered, "and you--you're not pleased with me, and you're going to send me home to father, I suppose." He smiled at the piteous quiver in the girl's voice. "I'll send you if you want to go," he said, laughing. "I don't want to go. I like to stay here with--with your sister," she answered, quickly. "Well, I don't blame you," he said. "This kind of life is better suited to you than that. You're too pretty and dainty, by George, to be working around in people's kitchens!" She did not answer, save by a blush and a smile of gratified vanity.