there, simply saying it was possible she was in the habit of fainting;
many people were. Very daintily, Agnes held up and back the skirt of
her rich silk as if fearful that it might come in contact with
Madeline's plain delaine; then, as it was not very interesting for her
to stand and see the doctor "make so much fuss over a young girl," as
she mentally expressed it, she returned to the house, bidding Jessie
do the same. But Jessie refused, choosing to stay by Madeline, whom
they placed upon the comfortable lounge, which she preferred to being
taken to the house, as Guy proposed.

"I'm better now, much better," she said. "Leave me, please. I'd rather
be alone."

So they left her, all but Jessie, who, fascinated by the sweet young
face, climbed upon the lounge and, laying her curly head caressingly
against Madeline's arm, said to her: "Poor girl, you're sick, and I am
so sorry. What makes you sick?"

There was genuine sympathy in that little voice, and it opened the
pent-up flood beating so furiously, and roused Maddy's heart. With a
cry as of sudden pain she clasped the child in her arms and wept out a
wild, stormy fit of weeping which did her so much good. Forgetting
that Jessie could not understand, and feeling it a relief to tell her
grief to some one, she said, in reply to Jessie's oft repeated
inquiries as to what was the matter: "I did not get a certificate, and
I wanted it so much, for we are poor, and our house is mortgaged, and
I was going to help grandpa pay it."

"It's dreadful to be poor!" sighed little Jessie, as her waxen fingers
threaded the soft, nut-brown hair resting in her lap, where Maddy had