expression which comes to those who count their lives by emotions,
not by years.

Strangely haunting eyes to Christie, for they seemed to appeal to
her with a mute eloquence she could not resist. In vain did Rachel
answer her with quiet coldness, nod silently when she wished her a
cheery "good morning," and keep resolutely in her own somewhat
isolated corner, though invited to share the sunny window where the
other sat. Her eyes belied her words, and those fugitive glances
betrayed the longing of a lonely heart that dared not yield itself
to the genial companionship so freely offered it.

Christie was sure of this, and would not be repulsed; for her own
heart was very solitary. She missed Helen, and longed to fill the
empty place. She wooed this shy, cold girl as patiently and as
gently as a lover might, determined to win her confidence, because
all the others had failed to do it. Sometimes she left a flower in
Rachel's basket, always smiled and nodded as she entered, and often
stopped to admire the work of her tasteful fingers. It was
impossible to resist such friendly overtures, and slowly Rachel's
coldness melted; into the beseeching eyes came a look of gratitude,
the more touching for its wordlessness, and an irrepressible smile
broke over her face in answer to the cordial ones that made the
sunshine of her day.

Emboldened by these demonstrations, Christie changed her seat, and
quietly established between them a daily interchange of something
beside needles, pins, and spools. Then, as Rachel did not draw back
offended, she went a step farther, and, one day when they chanced to
be left alone to finish off a delicate bit of work, she spoke out