month. Fearing that the people with whom she lived would be angry if
they heard of the affair and would turn her out of her home into the
streets--for to her a lawsuit was something vague and terrible and she
thought she would have to go to jail when it was found she could not
pay--she grew desperate, and being alone in the room with the paintings
for an instant she had seized the opportunity and carried one out under
her middy blouse. She intended to sell it and pay for the books.

Hinpoha's eyes filled with tears at Emily's distress. She was very
tender hearted and was easily touched by other people's troubles. "If I
lent you five dollars to pay for the books, would you take it?" she
asked.

Emily started up like a condemned prisoner who is pardoned on the way to
execution. "I'll pay it back," she cried, "if I have to go out scrubbing
to earn the money. And you won't say anything about the picture," she
said, clasping her hands beseechingly, "if I put it back where I got
it?"

"No," said Hinpoha, with all the conviction of her loyal young nature,
"I give you my word of honor that I will never say anything about it."

"Oh, you're an angel straight from heaven," exclaimed Emily.

"First time I've heard of a red-headed angel," laughed Hinpoha.

Emily stooped to pick up the painting and restore it to its place, when
she caught her breath in dismay. She had dropped a tear on the picture
and made a light spot on the dark brown trunk of a tree. It was
conspicuously noticeable, and would be sure to call forth the strictest