"Oh, I can't!" cried Ellen. "I'm sorry for you. Do put this out of your mind."
"I don't wish to put it out of my mind. But I'll not trouble you by speaking again. If you need help that I can give, you have only to ask. Promise me you will remember that!"
"I'll promise." She looked suddenly over her shoulder. Millie's eyes were keen and cruel; her mind was suspicious; she had related to Ellen a score of clandestine meetings, spied upon and reported to the confusion of lovers. "I must go home!" said she, moving away. "Don't come this way too often!"
"I'll do whatever you wish," promised Amos. "You don't have any ill-feeling toward me, Ellen, I hope?"
"No!" said Ellen. She flung back a crumb of comfort. "I told you you were the only friend I had in this world!"
It was four o'clock when she opened the kitchen door. Matthew and Millie stood by the table together, his arm across her shoulders. They had driven together to the store in the village and their cheeks glowed.
"Well, Sister?" said Matthew.
Ellen heard with wonder the unusual salutation. What had come over Matthew? Her own cheeks still burned. Subconsciously Millie noted her color and her excited eyes. But Millie was occupied with her own emotions. She laughed in her sharp, detached way and pushed Matthew from her. He went smiling, and when the door was shut, she laughed again.
"See what I've bought!" she cried, her hands slipping the cords from her parcels. "He said this was the time to spend." There appeared white, delicate muslins and yards of lace and ribbons and tiny patterns. "See! Aren't they beautiful? He thinks you are every day a little less self-centered, Ellen, and it is a good thing, for you will soon be certainly needed. Aren't you glad you didn't go to school?"