her. The face would have startled you on so old and stunted a
body. It was a child's face, quick, eager, with that pitiful
beauty you always see in deformed people. Her eyes, I think,
were the kindliest, the hopefullest I ever saw. Nothing but the
livid thickness of her skin betrayed the fact that set Lois apart
from even the poorest poor,--the taint in her veins of black
blood.

"Whoy! be n't this Tiger?" said Joel, as the dog ran yelping
about him. "How comed yoh with him, Lois?"

"Tiger an' his master's good friends o' mine,--you remember they
allus was. An' he's back now, Mr. Holmes,--been back for a
month."

Margret, walking in the porch with her father, stopped.

"Are you tired, father? It is late."

"And you are worn out, poor child! It was selfish in me to
forget. Good-night, dear!"

Margret kissed him, laughing cheerfully, as she led him to his
room-door. He lingered, holding her dress.

"Perhaps it will be easier for you to-morrow than it was to-day?"
hesitating.

"I am sure it will. To-morrow will be sure to be better than
to-day."