"She's the same dear old harum-scarum Daisy she always was, in spite of
the efforts of her Lord Chesterfield of a husband to reform her,"
thought Judith, fondly, as her old schoolmate, catching sight of her at
the window, waved her parasol so wildly that the staid old 'bus horses
began to plunge.

The girls had bidden each other good-bye the night before, but
Marguerite stopped in the midst of her final embracings to call out,
"Good-bye, again, Judith. Remember, I shall expect you the first of
February." Then the slender figure in its faultless tailor-made gown
disappeared into the omnibus. Her husband, a distinguished, scholarly
man, lifted his hat once more and stepped in after her. The door banged
behind them, and, creaking and swaying, the ancient vehicle moved off in
a cloud of dust.

[Illustration: "THE PASSING OF THE VILLAGE OMNIBUS WAS AN EXCITING
EVENT."]

Feeling that something very bright and interesting had dropped out of
her life, Judith went back to the sewing-machine. As she picked up her
work an involuntary sigh escaped her.

"That's a very sorry sound, Judith. Are you tired?"

It was a sympathetic voice that asked the question, and Judith looked up
with a smile. Her mother's cousin stood in the doorway--a prim little
old spinster, who had been their guest for several days. Like
Marguerite, she, too, had come back to her native village after an
absence of four years, but not to her father's house. She was all alone