go away quietly after she had looked at them, so that she might not frighten the birds too much. "Of course," she thought, "it would scare them more to have lots of folks come and look at them than to have me come alone; so I don't think I shall tell Frank and Jessie. Frank might want to take the eggs, too, to put with the others that he has had given him, and that would be awful. No, I wont tell them. I might tell mother, but I'm afraid if I do she'll say I mustn't come near the nest any more, and I do so want to watch the eggs, to see when they hatch! I can come every day and look, and go away, and O, when the little birdies get feathered, I'll show them to mother. Wont she be surprised?" And in her delight at this expected astonishment on her mother's part, Deena burst into a low merry laugh. Then, mindful of the long time she had been in the field, she hastened to fill her pail, and turned home without again approaching the sparrow's nest, though she longed to do so. "To-morrow," she said to herself, "I can come and look at it."

During the next week or two Deena was quite a mystery to her playmates. She felt the importance that came of "keeping a secret all to herself," and could not help throwing out hints of some wonderful knowledge that was hers and hers only. In fact, she told Frank and Jessie Lawrence one day that she knew something that nobody else knew-"nobody in the whole world;" and when she had thus roused their curiosity, she refused to say a word more, and trembled for fear they would find out, somehow, about her precious sparrow's nest.

Every day, unless it stormed, she went to the nest and peeped at the eggs, when the mother-bird flew up at her approach, and for a week or more there was no change. Then came a drizzling rain that lasted two days, and though she longed to go, Deena could not invent any excuse for visiting the bird's nest. At last the sun came brightly out, and the little girl hastened to the field to see if any harm had come to the five small eggs. The sparrows had seen her come so often, and go away without injuring them, that they had grown less shy. This morning the little mother sparrow seemed unwilling to leave her nest, and when she did fly a short distance, Deena saw something very queer

and red stirring in the nest, and found, to her wonder and delight, that the homely mites of things were three little birds curled up over the two remaining eggs.

"O how funny! O how queer!"' cried Deena; and at the sound of her voice the three nestlings raised themselves up, and opened their mouths as wide as they possibly could, thinking their father or mother had come to feed them.

Deena crept away, and very soon the parent birds returned to the nest to feed and hover their little ones.

Deena's frequent visits to the field would have caused more surprise if she had not been in the habit of roaming about on her father's farm as much as she pleased, if the weather were pleasant. She was not very strong, and Mrs. West believed that it was well for her to amuse herself in the open air.

In two more days the whole brood of young sparrows was hatched, and Deena thought she could see that they had grown each time she went to the nest. After a while she would pick the largest and ripest strawberries she could find and drop them into the young birds' wide-open mouths. It grew harder and harder for her to keep her secret, and she went so far as to tell her mother that she was going to show her something pretty, soon-something nicer than she could ever guess, following up this announcement with a kiss and a request not to ask what it was, just yet. Mrs. West was used to such mysterious promises, and so smiled as she returned the kiss, and agreed to wait patiently.

One morning Deena saw what was to her a wonderful sight. Two of the young sparrows, who had now all got quite a nice coat of feathers, and were nearly as large as the old birds, had perched themselves upon the edge of the nest; but when they saw her coming they crowded back among the others in a great hurry, and lay there, drawing themselves up as small as possible, and looking at her with their ten bright little eyes. It was a pretty sight, and Deena nearly went into raptures over it as she talked to the little brood. "To-morrow," she said, "I will bring mother to see you, and O, how pleased she will be r'

The morning came, and Deena asked her mother if she would go to the field with her. The request was granted, and the little girl could scarcely keep from

CHAPTER V.

HAUNTED.

JOHN HUBERT IVINGTON had bought a house. A handsome house in the suburbs had long been to let, and the owner, despairing of getting interest on his property that way, had determined to sell.

John was a man who did not know he had nerves. He liked the place because it was capable of great improvements. Its situation just suited him-far enough from the road to ensure quiet, near enough to show with imposing distinctness. He got it at a bargain, too, cash down-serpentine walks, statuary, greenhouses and all. It mattered but little to him that the place was said to be unlucky; indeed, it derived an additional charm in his eyes from that fact. The man who had built it quarrelled with his wife. He was overheard by the neighbors swearing at her, about the disposition of certain improvements; he was seen sometimes, when the window shades were up, to thrash about the room as if anxious to find somebody to take up cudgels against; and when madam was found dead in her bed, one morning, although there was no existing proof that evil had been done, the people of Berylton considered that she had been foully dealt by, and only expressed their wonder that it didn't happen before, when, one morning some years after, the old man was cut down from a beam in his stable, "dead as a doorpost."

From that time, all the inhabitants considered the house doomed, and whoever moved in soon moved out in disgust, having either seen something, or heard something, nobody quite understood what.

whatever they were, as she handed him the keys every now and then.

John always looked at a younger face, when he smiled-a face of a really beautiful girl of seventeen, the widow's only daughter.

"He seems to take a mighty fancy to you, anyway," said the widow, one day when they had been talking of him.

"I'm sure I hope not; I should not feel at all flattered."

Her mother looked up amazed. "Why Angy, he's handsome, he's remarkably handsome."

"So everybody says-and so, indeed, he is, to those who like that sort of good looks; but there's something under it all, something hard and revengeful-at least, so it seems to me."

"Why, daughter," exclaimed the mild widow, "you can't mean it ?"

"Indeed I do."

"Then how differently folks see! I thought he looked like a man almost too kind and indulgent; I thought him singularly beautiful. Well, well, there's no accounting for diversities of opinion. Your poor father used to say that I was a very poor judge of character. Perhaps you take after him, for I must say he read men as easily as one reads a book. How nicely he is fixing up! You can't deny that he has great taste."

Angy joined her mother at the window that overlooked that part of the estate which was under repairs. Nearly a score of workmen were busy at various points, some cleaning the walks, others trimming trees, others working upon the house-front itself.

As Angy stood there, intent on the scene, a very handsome man rode by on horseback touching his cap pointedly as he bowed to the two. Angy blushed and drew back.

"He seems determined to keep up the