Under the Big Dipper

Helène stretched her arm across the table and pressed Margaret’s hand, the tears filling her eyes. Margaret blushed and stroked Helène’s slender fingers. Praise always called up her innate modesty of nature. “You think too much of me, darling,” she whispered, smiling happily.

Morton looked at Margaret keenly. This was an unusual woman, he thought, as he noted the broad forehead and firm yet kindly mouth. He would not forget her kindness to the orphaned girl.

During the meal Margaret kept stealing glances at Helène. She could scarcely explain the nature of the change she now saw. This erstwhile quiet, simple maiden might be a princess, so queenly did she bear herself and so beautiful was she in her animation. “What a difference a man makes!” she thought bitterly, “especially if he is the right man,” she added as an afterthought.

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