the first time he had really looked at her. A low, chuckling laugh,
burst from his lips, which Helen thought frightful, and he handed her
the basket, saying, "I can do it myself; take this to the kitchen."
She dared not excuse herself, but holding it with both hands, and
feeling as if her wrists were breaking, she passed through the
sitting-room with such a doleful countenance, while a red angry spot
burned on her forehead, that May could not forbear laughing even while
she went to assist her.

Mr. Stillinghast's humor was not quite so rasping as usual that
morning, although he cast more than one angry look towards May, and
scarcely noticed the remarks she made to him. When she told him that
Helen had made the coffee, he nodded towards her, and with a grim smile
told her that "she had made a good beginning;" but to May, never a word
was uttered. Notwithstanding which, it was very evident that a
pleasant thought, by some rare chance, had taken possession of his
bleak heart, like birds, which, sometimes in flying, drop from their
beaks the seeds of beauteous and gorgeous flowers into the crevice of
some bare grey rock. He did not again advert to May's adventure down
town, and she _hoped_ he had forgotten it; but he was one of those who
_never forget_.

At half-past eight, all her domestic affairs in order, May and Helen
prepared to attend the 9 o'clock mass at the cathedral. Helen's
worldly heart was pleased with the grandeur of the building, the
dignity with which the ceremonies were conducted, and the appearance of
the congregation, who appeared to belong to a better class than she had
been accustomed to see in the Catholic churches North. And so they
did. They were mostly individuals of fortune and leisure, who had
their time in command. And there were those whose age and infirmities