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THE weeks went on very quietly with Calista for a time-so quietly and pleasantly that she sometimes wondered whether either her present or her former life were not a dream. She worked as hard in school as if she still had no other prospect than that of becoming a teacher, and found great delight in her drawing; for which she showed a special talent. At home she took the place of a daughter. She helped in the housekeeping, and learned to make cakes, and preserves, and pickles in endless variety. She read aloud to Mrs. Fabian, and saw, in a quiet way, a good deal of company, and listened to a great deal of clever conversation.
She would have been perfectly happy only for that thought which was always in the background-poor Aunt Priscilla. She could hear very little about her. Mr. Davis, who managed the farm, reported that he rarely saw her. He thought she was shut in her room a good deal. Jael had a younger woman with her,-her daughter, he thought,-and he feared Miss Priscilla did not fare very well.