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"I know the West Indian islands," observed Etwald as they walked into the house, "and this day does remind me a little of the climate there; but it is scarcely hot enough." "I do, too, now," she declared. "But I've been paid up for my evilmindedness by losing half my good time. I think I'll try to find her and be awfully agreeable to her. I'll feel better for it, I'm sure." "No, Uncle Jen, I can't. I have my suspicions." Why don't people realise that a seventeen-year-old girl's heart is a sensitive wind-flower that may be shattered by a breath? Mine shattered when Alfred went away to find something he could do to make a living, and Aunt Adeline gave the hard green stem to Mr. Carter when she insisted on marrying me to him. Poor Mr. Carter!.