pain when heretofore she had only brought him joy and gladness. There
was a moment of darkness, in which the hills, the pond, the sun
setting, and Katy seemed a great ways off to Morris, trying so hard to
be calm, and mentally asking for help to do so. But Katy's hat, which
she swung in her hand, had become entangled in the vines encircling one
of the pillars of the piazza, and so she did not notice him until all
traces of his agitation were past, and he could talk with her concerning
Wilford, and then playfully lifting her basket he asked what she had
come to get.

This was not the first time the great house had rendered a like service
to the little house, and so Katy did not blush when she explained how
her mother wanted Morris' forks, and saltcellars, and spoons, and would
he be kind enough to bring the castor over himself, and come to dinner
to-morrow at two o'clock?--and would he go after Mr. Cameron? The forks,
and saltcellars, and spoons, and castor were cheerfully promised, while
Morris consented to go for the guest; and then Katy came to the rest of
her errand, the part distasteful to her, inasmuch as it might look like
throwing disrespect upon Uncle Ephraim--honest, unsophisticated Uncle
Ephraim--who would come to the table in his shirt sleeves. This was the
burden of her grief--the one thing she dreaded most, inasmuch as she
knew by experience how such an act was looked upon by Mr. Cameron, who,
never having lived in the country a day in his life, except as he was
either guest or traveler, could not make due allowance for these little
departures from refinement, so obnoxious to people of his training.

"What is it, Katy?" Morris asked, as he saw how she hesitated, and
guessed her errand was not done.

"I hope you will not think me foolish or wicked," Katy began, her eyes