CONSTANCE MAKES A CONFIDANT OF RHODA.

"Rhoda!"

The little girl started up, and the work dropped to the floor. There was something strange in Constance's voice, that startled her.

"Why—why—what is it? What makes you look so wild, Constance Hudson?" she cried.

"Me? Nothing much. Only—only—Oh! Rhoda, Rhoda! I am so wretched!"

Constance threw herself on a chair, flung her arm half across the table, and burst into a storm of hysterical sobs.

"Don't, don't!" pleaded little Rhoda, pulling at the arm which Constance had curved under her face. "Has he been drinking—your father, I mean? Oh! I hope not, for that is trouble."

Constance lifted her face, and wiped some tears away with her hand.

"No, no, Rhoda! it isn't that; but I am going away—that is, we are going away."

"Going away? How far?"

"Ever so far, Rhoda. Hundreds and hundreds of miles away."

"But where? You frighten me; you take away my breath."

"It is a secret, Rhoda; but I must tell you. We are going out west."

"Out west? Why, that is where she has gone!" cried Rhoda.

"She! Who?"

"My friend; the lady who was so good to my mother—Mrs. Holt."

"Well, Rhoda, we are going to her."

"Oh! if I was going—if I only could!" said Rhoda, clasping her plump little hands, as if she were about to fall on her knees and pray for this wild wish.

"I wish you might, Rhoda, for you are about all the friend I have got; but we are going right away, father and I; and I want you to help us."

"Help you! Of course, I will; know how to pack and fold as well as anybody. When you want me, I'm on hand."

"It isn't that, Rhoda. We haven't so very much to pack, anyway; but there is something I want of you, and that no one else can be trusted with."

"Very well," said Rhoda, smoothing her tiny apron with both hands; "let us know what it is."

"We are going away, to be gone a good while; but I don't want any one to know about it. Don't open your eyes so wide; we haven't done any wrong."

"Don't owe anybody, or nothing?" questioned Rhoda, to whom an unpaid debt was a great sin.

"Not a red cent."

Rhoda settled her apron with a jerk, and answered promptly,

"Then you may count on me."

"This is it," answered Constance. "We have taken our rooms for a whole year, and paid cash down in advance only a few weeks ago. We shall leave them in your hands, Rhoda; you may live in them, if you like, for we don't mean to move a thing of the furniture. Only I want people to think we are there yet, coming and going, you know, as father used to. If any one comes to inquire, you can say, 'Mr. Hudson isn't at home just now; or he's gone into the country for a few days, and Miss Constance is with him.' You well know how to do it."

Rhoda's black eyes sparkled.

"Oh, yes! I can manage it well enough," she said. "One learns lots of things keeping house, and going about. No one shall find out how long you are gone, or when you're coming back. You can depend on that."

"If you could only say, once in a while, they were here only last week, or you are just too late this time—anything to make them believe we made it our home still, it would be all I could ask," said Constance, anxiously.

"That would be rather going it—don't you think so?"

"But for a friend, Rhoda—it is so important."

"Well, as a general thing, I don't care to fib it much, but for a friend——"

"Yes; for a _dear_ friend, Rhoda."

"When a little fibbing is all I can do for her——"

"Exactly!"

"And it isn't for harm to any one?"

"Quite the contrary; Rhoda. It will save us all from great harm."

"Then I'll do it. Reckon I could; but don't say a word to Luke. Wouldn't have him think I could do it for the whole world, and California to boot—nor father; either."

"That reminds me—where is your father?"

"Father? Oh! he isn't just about for the once."

"Well, I will see him when he comes in."

"No; I had better do the talking; he won't be astonished at me."

"Very well, Rhoda. I am so glad you will be my friend, for I need friends more than any poor girl ever did before."

"Don't! don't cry! You see I can't bear that, though it does make you look pretty as a pink when the tears come. Never fear me! I'll fib for you like blazes, if it's only about coming and going. But will you never come back?"

"I hope so."

"Dear, dear! How lonesome it will be!"

That moment a faint noise came from the next room, which brought the blood into Rhoda's face, and set her to work about the room, moving chairs, and rattling the stove with more bluster than was usual to her. Constance stood awhile near the door, apparently lost in thought; then she recovered herself with a start, and saying hastily, "We can depend on you, Rhoda?" went down stairs.

That night Church called at the house again. Hudson had just gone out, but Constance received him with more cordiality that he had ever experienced before; perhaps he observed that her cheerfulness was a little exaggerated, and her laughter somewhat hysterical; but she was so pleasant and full of fun that he seemed content and even entranced, with all she said and did. Once she went out of the room for a moment, leaving him alone. Then he arose, walked on tip-toe to the bedroom-door, and opening it softly, looked in. A battered trunk stood in the middle of the floor, evidently packed close, and with a new strap buckled over it. He observed also that the bureau-drawers were half open, and quite empty; while all the little ornaments belonging to the room of a fanciful girl had disappeared. With something that sounded like a low chuckle, he closed the door, went back to his seat, and waited, with a slow smile creeping over his face.

Directly Constance came in, full of life and spirits, but so nervously restless that she was perpetually moving about the room, dashing a few notes from the piano, or snatching up her work to fling it away after a moment for some new object.

Church sat still, smiling quietly to himself; but there was a gleam in his eyes as he watched her, which few persons would have read clearly, the smile and the look so completely contradicted each other. At last he got up and prepared to go. Then Constance turned upon him, her eyes flashing, and her cheeks hot with excitement.

"Good-night!" she said, reaching forth her hand, which burned in his as he clasped it "Do not call to-morrow, or next day—I shall not be at home."

He asked no questions, and did not seem to be surprised, but wrung her hand a little viciously, and went away still smiling.