there was a sly, keen look in her eyes which tears could not conceal.

"No," said Alida gravely, "that's not my way. How did you get here, Jane?"

"Run away."

"From where?"

"Poorhouse."

Alida drew a quick breath and was silent a few moments. "Is--is your mother
there?" she asked at length.

"Yes. They wouldn't let us visit round any longer."

"Didn't your mother or anyone know you were coming?"

Jane shook her head.

Alida felt that it would be useless to burden the unhappy child with
misgivings as to the result, and her heart softened toward her as one who in
her limited way had known the bitterness and dread which in that same
almshouse had overwhelmed her own spirit. She could only say gently, "Well,
wait till Mr. Holcroft comes, and then we'll see what he says." She herself
was both curious and anxious as to his course. "It will be a heavy cross," she
thought, "but I should little deserve God's goodness to me if I did not
befriend this child."

Every moment added weight to this unexpected burden of duty. Apart from all
consideration of Jane's peculiarities, the isolation with Holcroft had been a