id="id00280">Just outside the gate she met Isa Harrington, who had been waiting for her impatiently. "What did keep you so long, Gracie?"

"O, I was talking with Mahla," replied Grace, who did not care to make a parade of her generous deeds.

"It's right kind in you to take so much notice of Dutch girls," pursued Isa, who was extremely anxious to make the most of Cassy's absence, and win Grace's favor as far as she could, not caring how much flattery she used for the purpose.

"Why, Isa, she's a respectable German—Mahla is."

"O, yes, Gracie; but her ma used to work at your house before she was married. Wouldn't catch Cassy Hallock making so much of their hired girl's children. One of the kid-glove sort Cassy is, or would be if she was only rich."

"Not proud, Isa Harrington."

Isa cleared her throat.

"Deary me, no! I declare, I forgot I was talking to you! You'll never hear a word against Cassy, and I don't blame you, Grace Clifford."

Grace's joyous mood changed; she looked vexed. Why would Isa persist in saying little hateful things, which pricked like cambric needles?

"We girls would like to see Cassy Hallock stand up so for you—that's all," added Isa, shutting her mouth firmly, as if her teeth were all on edge.

"Well, so she would. Cassy never would hear me abused. She's not a milk-and-water sort of person; and that you know, Isa Harrington!"

Isa cleared her throat again with a provoking cough, which said, as plainly as words, "O, couldn't I tell you something surprising if I only would!"

"Isa Harrington," said Grace, impetuously, "what's that you say?"

"I said nothing at all," replied Isa, demurely.

"But you look mighty wise. I'd sooner a body'd speak right out than to look so wise; I would so, Isa."

"Ah, Gracie. I could tell a heap of things I reckon; but no good—you wouldn't believe a word."

"Speak out," said Grace, severely, as she proceeded to curl a dandelion stem.

"Ahem! Remember that time you had the oyster supper at your house, don't you, Gracie? Well, did you stay in the room with the company? I always wanted to know."

"Yes, Isa, part of the time. Why?"

Isa rolled her eyes, and looked unutterable things.

"O, nothing, only Mrs. Hallock was there, you know. Ahem! Well, next day, Mrs. Hallock said to her husband, and Cassy was right there in the room—"

Isa hesitated. It seemed to be her painful duty to stop.

"Do go on," said Grace. "If it's ever so bad I want to hear it."

"I just happened to think, Gracie, dear, you haven't promised not to tell."

"And I'll not promise any such thing, Isa," cried Grace, spiritedly.

"Then I've said all I'm going to," replied Isa, folding her arms in a hard knot.

"But you're not going to leave off right in the middle! Now, Isa, that's not fair."

"Well, no more it isn't fair for you not to promise."

By this time they had nearly reached Captain Clifford's, for Isa had walked a long distance out of her way to accompany Grace.

"Isa Harrington, I think you might tell."

"Gracie Clifford, I think you might promise."

"Isa, I'd never dare. 'Twould fly out of my lips when I saw Cassy, and
I couldn't help it. Don't make me tell a lie!"

Grace ate her dinner that noon in silence. What dreadful thing could
Mrs. Hallock have said to her husband?

"Nothing much, I reckon; Cassy wouldn't go and tell stories about me!
I'll trust Cassy as long as I live."

Grace twirled her regard-ring about her finger. "I'd be crazy if I believed my best friend was false!"

Still the thought troubled her. Grace had asked Cassy's views regarding the prize. To her it seemed a thousand pities that Cassy should have gone away, and so missed all chance of it. Cassy's reply was just like her. She didn't care her little finger for the prize. "It wouldn't probably be worth more than five dollars, any way; and as she had five dollars already, what could she want of any more?" She didn't see why Grace should want it, either; but if she did, Cassy hoped she'd get it. "If Mahla feels badly, you can give her something," added Cassy, sagely.

Grace pondered over this letter for some time. It was short and to the purpose, for its writer never wasted words. Grace fancied, too, that it was rather cool; but every time a doubt tried to creep into her mind, she shut it out, saying to herself,—

"Cassy's my dear friend: I'll trust Cassy as long as I live."

From this time Mahla Linck seemed to take a fresh start in arithmetic. Grace knew very well that as much as she helped Mahla, just so much she hindered herself. In everything but figures Mahla excelled. Her copy-book was a pattern of neatness; she could spell quite accurately; and as for geography, she was at home all over the world. But if left to herself, she was sure to spoil the whole by her dulness in arithmetic.

Miss Allen was not possessed of "long patience," and dear little Mahla could make nothing of her scientific explanations. But Grace had a way of shedding light on that dismal book, which, though called Ray's Arithmetic, was quite rayless to Mahla. So the poor child turned to her new friend with joyful eagerness.

Grace did not falter; but she had one trial. Every night Captain
Clifford said, smiling,—

"Well, daughter, how comes on the studying? Any nearer the prize?"

And Grace had to answer, slowly, "O, pa, don't go to expecting I'll get it, please! Mahla's the one."

When she had said this, her father would turn again to his newspaper, looking slightly disappointed. Then Grace felt a pang of regret; but it soon passed away, and never left a sting.

CHAPTER V.

FORTUNES.

All the school-girls were talking just now about a wonderful woman, who had suddenly dropped down, perhaps out of the moon—a woman who could tell what had happened, and what would happen, as easily as she would wink.

"Why," said the graduating class, talking two or three at once, "she can tell you when you were born, how your parents look, what's your given name, and all about your friends, whether they're light or dark complexion, and—"

"Well, there," said Grace, contemptuously, "that's smart! Does anybody want to hear it all over again, when they knew it before? I'd like her to tell something new."

"So she does," cried the girls, with breathless eagerness; "she can foretell things, and they do come to pass, too,—things that make your hair stand on end."

"I wonder!" said timid Lucy Lane, shivering, and looking behind her.

"O, fie! Lucy," said. Grace, patronizingly; "don't you be a bit afraid, dear; it's all a sham. I can foretell as well as Mrs. Gypsy. I'll foretell what we're going to have for dinner—a dog in a blanket."

"There, now," laughed Diademia; "I've heard of eating roasted horses, but I didn't know it ever came to cats and dogs."

Grace explained that a dog in a blanket was a roly-poly pudding.

"But about this gypsy," continued Di; "anybody'd think, to hear you,
Grace Clifford, that you supposed we believed in her."

At this speech the girls all declared,