Tessa was seated on the bed, still in the black silk she had worn, with a white shawl of Shetland wool thrown around her; she had taken the hair-pins out of the hair and the long braid was brought forward and laid across her bosom reaching far below her waist.

She braided and unbraided the ends of it as Nan talked about last winter and Dr. Towne.

"I like to talk to you; I can trust you, I wouldn't be afraid to tell you any thing; I can not trust Mary, she exaggerates fearfully. I don't mind telling _you_ that I came near falling in love with that handsome black bear; it was only skin deep however; I think that I have lost my attraction for him, whatever it was; I never do take falling in love hard; why, some girls take it as a matter of life and death; I think the reason must be that I can never love any one as I loved Robert. He was a saint. Yes, he was; you needn't look incredulous! I am not sentimental, I am practical and I intend to marry some day. People call me a flirt, perhaps I am, but my fun is very innocent and most delightful.

"I know this: Ralph Towne would not like me if I were the only girl in existence; he wants some one who can think as well as talk; you wouldn't guess it to hear _him_ talk, would you?

"Did you ever see a man who could not talk some kind of nonsense?

There's Gus Hammerton, can't he talk splendid nonsense? Some of his nonsense is too deep for me.

"Now, I've been trying an experiment with Dr. Towne, he is such an old bear that I thought it would do no harm; I made up my mind to see if it were possible for a marriageable woman to treat a marriageable man as if he were another woman! I don't know about it though," she added ruefully.

"Has it failed?"

"I think it has-rather. He does not understand-"

"No man would understand."

"I would understand if he would treat me as if I were Nathan instead of Nan; what grand, good friends we could be!"

"I am glad that you can see that it has failed. How do you detect the failure?"

"I have eyes. I know. His mother does not understand either. I think that I shall begin to be more-"

"Maidenly?"

Nan colored. "Was I unmaidenly? I have resolved never to ask him to take me anywhere again; I have made him no end of pretty things, I will do it no more. I would not like to have him lose his respect for me."

"It usually costs something to try an experiment; I am glad that yours has cost you no more."

"So am I, heartily glad. My next shall be of a different nature. Did you never try an experiment?"

"Not of that kind; I tried an experiment once of believing every thing that somebody said, and acting upon it, as if it meant what it would have meant to me."

"And you came to grief?"

"I thought so, at first. Life _is_ a long story, isn't it?"

"It's an interesting one to me. I kept a journal about _my_ experiment; I'll read it to you, shall I?"

"I would like it ever so much if you like _me_ well enough to do it."

"Of course I do," springing up. "And after I read it to you, you shall write the 'final' for me."

In the top drawer of the bureau, she fumbled among neckties, pocket-handkerchiefs, and a collection of odds and ends, and at last, brought out a small, soft-covered, thin book with edges of gilt.

"I named it 'Nan's Experiment,'" she said seriously, reseating herself near the register. "If you wish to listen in comfort, draw that rocker close to me, and take off your boots and heat your feet. If you are in a comfortable position, you will be in a more merciful frame of mind to judge my misdoings."

Tessa obeyed, and leaned back in the cushioned chair, braiding and unbraiding her hair as she listened.

The journal opened with an account of the journey by train to St. Louis.

The description of her escort was enthusiastic and girlish in the extreme.

"Is it nonsense?" the reader asked.

"Even if it were, I haven't travelled so far away from those days that I can not understand."

She read with more confidence.

Ralph Towne would have been pleased with the intentness of Tessa's eyes and the softening of her lips.

"You _dear_ Naughty Nan," cried Tessa, as the book fell from the reader's hands.

"Then you do not blame me so much?"

"It is only a mistake. Who does not make a mistake? It sounds rather more than skin-deep, though."

"Oh, I had to throw in a little agony to make it interesting. I don't want him to think-"

"What he thinks is the price you pay for your experiment."

"Now write a last sentence, and I'll keep it forever; the names are all fict.i.tious; no one can understand it; I'll find a pencil."

Tessa held the pencil a moment. Nan on her knees watched her.

"Something that I shall remember all my life-whenever I do a foolish thing-if I ever _do_ again."

"Do you know Jean Ingelow?"

"She is the one Professor Towne reads from?"

"Yes. I will write some words of hers."

The pencil wrote, and Nan, on her knees, read it word by word.

"I wait for the day when dear hearts shall discover, While dear hands are laid on my head; 'The child is a woman, the book may close over, For all the lessons are said.'

"I wait for my story-the birds can not sing it, Not one as he sits on the tree; The bells can not ring it, but long years, O bring it!

Such as I wish it to be."

"Thank you, very much. You write a fine hand. 'Such as I wish it to be?'

No one's story is ever that-do you think it ever is?"

"We will do our best to make ours such as we wish it to be."

"Professor Towne is to have a private cla.s.s in elocution after the holidays, and I'm going to join. He says that I will make a reader. I wish that you would join too."

"I wish I might, but I shall not be at home; I am to spend a part of the winter away."