"I wasn't going to ask; it's nothing to me, of course. He doesn't care
for her then,--this other girl?"

"Not so much as he does for me. He didn't mean to tell me, but he said
that I--that I looked so--pretty, it came right out. But there! I
mustn't tell you any more."

Del began to be frightened; she looked up sideways at Asenath's quiet
face. "I won't say another word," and so chattered on, growing a little
cross; Asenath need not look so still, and sure of herself,--a mere
humpbacked fright!

"He'll never break his engagement, not even for me; he's sorry for her,
and all that. I think it's too bad. He's handsome. He makes me feel like
saying my prayers, too, he's so good! Besides, I want to be married. I
hate the mill. I hate to work. I'd rather be taken care of,--a sight
rather. I feel bad enough about it to cry."

Two tears rolled over her cheeks, and fell on the soft plaid shawl. Del
wiped them away carefully with her rounded fingers.

Asenath turned and looked at this Del Ivory long and steadily through
the dusk. The pretty, shallow thing! The worthless, bewildering thing!

A fierce contempt for her pink-and-white, and tears and eyelashes and
attitudes, came upon her; then a sudden sickening jealousy that turned
her faint where she sat.

What did God mean,--Asenath believed in God, having so little else to
believe in,--what did he mean, when he had blessed the girl all her