She looked almost pretty in her clean, white linen suit and her hair
tightly bound by a broad black ribbon. The goldenrod and sumac were
opening, but the summer flowers looked old and tired, as though they
needed new gowns and freshening up a bit. The girl thought of how alone
she was and sighed. Then her mother came into her mind. To think that
she had to be taken while so young--not yet forty-five, and the tears
rolled down her cheeks. But "Thank God," she thought, "I never caused
her any unhappiness, and I still have my dear, kind father," and Nora
wiped her eyes. "It's Miss Ethel who dislikes me. No matter what I say
to her nor how friendly I am, she won't like me. And when I try to joke
or do her a little kindness, if she smiles sure her smile chills me. It's
like a piece of ice going down me back. And her 'thank you, Honora' is
as cold as charity. I like her mother the best. And yet Miss Ethel kissed
me goodbye at the train last summer; but she was kissing everyone and I
suppose she had to kiss me, for she's too much of a lady to slight a
body. Yet she'd be glad to see the last of me--that I know."




CHAPTER IX

NORA GIVES SERVICE


Honora was an unconscious lover of Nature. She turned and beheld the sun
slowly sinking.

"Ah! it must be nearly six o'clock," she thought. "I must make haste,"
but she stood spellbound, watching the glowing crimson, purple and yellow