[Illustration: FROM AUNT TREMAYNE AND RALPH]

 SIX GIRLS

 _A HOME STORY_

 BY FANNIE BELLE IRVING

 ILLUSTRATED BY F. T. MERRILL

 BOSTON DANA ESTES AND COMPANY PUBLISHERS

 _Copyright, 1882_, By Estes and Lauriat. 

 University Press: JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE. 

 CONTENTS. 

 CHAPTER PAGE

 I. UNDER THE TREES 7

 II. AROUND THE FIRE 18

 III. A FOUNDATION THAT BROUGHT KAT TO GRIEF 38

 IV. IN CONFIDENCE 51

 V. ONE DAY 65

 VI. A STRANGER 80

 VII. MR. CONGREVE SURPRISES HIMSELF AND EVERYBODY ELSE 97

 VIII. ODDS AND ENDS 113

 IX. WHAT OLIVE HEARD 128

 X. THE LITTLE BLACK TRUNK 148

 XI. WHERE IS ERNESTINE? 168

 XII. THE STORY 188

 XIII. A YEAR LATER 202

 XIV. STUDY OR PLAY? 221

 XV. CONGREVE HALL 240

 XVI. UNDER THE SHADY GREEN-WOOD TREE 257

 XVII. SEVERAL THINGS 284

 XVIII. AT THE OPERA 306

 XIX. COMING HOME 336

 XX. A SAD STORY 355

 XXI. MY LADY 368

 XXII. TO REAR, TO LOVE, AND THEN TO LOSE 380

 XXIII. WHEN GOD DREW NEAR, AMONG HIS OWN TO CHOOSE 406

 XXIV. TWO SECRETS 420

 XXV. MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT--FIVE YEARS LATER 437

 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

 PAGE

 FROM AUNT TREMAYNE AND RALPH _Frontispiece_

 "O ERNESTINE, HOW LOVELY!" 17

 KAT AND KIT 49

 THE OLD GENTLEMAN LIFTED JEAN UP ON THE POST 92

 "NOW LET'S SEE WHAT'S IN THIS WONDERFUL TRUNK" 167

 "WHY, HOW DO YOU DO, MY DEAR CHILD?" 244

 "WHAT IS THE MATTER? WHAT HAS HAPPENED?" 267

 MR. CONGREVE WOULD COME INTO THE GALLERY 314

SIX GIRLS. 

CHAPTER I. 

UNDER THE TREES. 

There were ripples of sunshine all tangled in the glowing scarlet of thegeranium bed and dancing blithely over the grass. A world of melody inquivering bursts of happy song came from the spreading canopy of leavesoverhead, and as an accompaniment, the wind laughed and whispered andkept the air in one continual smile with a kiss on its lips, born ofsupreme contentment in the summer loveliness. 

In the cool, deep shade, cast by the grandest of old beech trees, a girlsat, her white dress in freshest relief against the green surroundings, a piece of sewing in her nimble fingers, and the wind tossing herloosened hair all about her face and shoulders. She was quite alone, andseemed just the setting for the quiet, lovely surroundings, so much so, that, had an artist chanced to catch the sight, he would have lost notime in transferring it to canvas, --the wide stretch of grass, alternately steeped in cool shadows and mellow sunshine, the branching, rustling canopy of leaves, the white-robed figure with smiling lips andbusy fingers, and just visible in the back-ground an old house wrappedin vines and lying in the shade. 

Somebody came from among the trees just at this moment and crossed thegrass with a peculiarly graceful and swaying step, as though she hadjust drifted down with the sunshine and was being idly blown along bythe wind, another girl in the palest of pink dresses, with ripples ofsnowy lace all over it, and a wide-brimmed hat shading her eyes. Andspeaking distance being gained, she said, with a breezy little laugh:"Sewing? Why, it's too warm to breathe. "

"That's the reason I sew, " returned the other, with a nod of energy. "Ishould suffocate if I just sat still and thought how warm it is. Wherehave you been?"

"Down to the pond, skipping stones, and wishing that I could go in, "answered the new-comer, sitting down on the grass with a careful andgracefully effective arrangement of her flounces and lace. "I don't seewhy papa won't let us take the boat; it did look too tempting. Supposewe go and do it, anyhow, Bea, and just let him see that we can manage itwithout being taught. The pond is all in the shade now, and a row wouldbe delicious. "

"Why, Ernestine!" Bea said, with a glance of surprise; "You wouldn't, Iknow. Papa will teach us right away, and then we will have delightfultimes; but when he has been so good as to get us the boat and promise tohave us learn to manage it, I'm sure I wouldn't disobey and try alone. "

Ernestine laughed again her pretty saucy laugh and threw her head backso that it caught a dancing sunbeam and held it prisoner in the brighthair. 

"I would, " she said flippantly. "I'd like to, just for the sake of doingsomething. Do you know, Bea, "--knitting the arched brows with a petulantair, --"Sometimes I think I'll do something dreadful; perfectly dreadful, you know, so as to have things different for a little bit. It's horribleto live right along, just so, without anything ever happening. "

"Well I'm sure, " said Bea, laying down her sewing and surveying hersister slowly, "you have just about as good and easy a time as ever Iheard of a girl's having. What are you all dressed up so for?"

"Just for something to do. I've tried on all my dresses and hats, andwasted the blessed afternoon parading before the glass, " laughedErnestine, swinging her pretty hat with its shirrings of delicate pink, around on her white hand. "I do think this dress is lovely, so I madebelieve I was being dressed by my maid and coming out to walk in my parklike an English lady, you know. "

"English fiddlesticks!" said Bea, with energy. "You are a goosey. Suppose you had to work and couldn't have pretty things and waste yourtime trying them on?"

"What misery, " cried Ernestine, jumping up and whirling around on herheel with an airy grace that the other girls might have practiced for invain. "I wouldn't want to live; it would be dreadful, Bea, " falling intoan attitude with the sunshine over her, "wouldn't I do well on thestage? I know I was born for it; now look here, and see if I don't do asMiss Neilson did. Just suppose this ring of sunshine is a balcony andI'm in white, with such lovely jewels in my hair and all that:

 "Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?"--

and away went Ernestine with a tragically pathetic energy that made Beawatch and listen, in spite of the disapproving laugh on her lips. 

"Don't I do it well?" Ernestine asked complacently, after she had gonethrough the entire balcony scene, with great success in the managementof two characters. 

"Yes, you do; how can you?" asked Bea, won from disapproval by wonderingadmiration. 

"Easiest in the world. I've been through it ever so many times sincepapa took us to the city to see her. Oh, Bea! how happy she must be! I'dgive worlds and worlds to be in her place, " cried Ernestine, withlonging energy, and pacing restlessly up and down the grass. "I wonderif I ever can. "

"Indeed!" said Bea with decision. "The idea! what would papa and mamasay; you, Ernestine Dering, parading out on a stage before crowds ofpeople, and flying around like she did. Mercy on us!"

"I'd do it in a minute, and if I can't now, I will sometime anyhow, "Ernestine exclaimed with emphasis. "I wasn't born to be smuggled up inthis little musty town all my life and I won't, either. Some day I'll dosomething desperate; you see if I don't. "

"Well, I do declare!" said Bea slowly, having never witnessed quite suchan energetic ending to Ernestine's spells of restless dissatisfaction. "What talk! I think you'd better sit down and cool off now. Where areOlive and Jean?"

"Olive is sketching out on the roof, and crosser than thirteen sticks. Jean is asleep on the porch, and mama is out showing Huldah how to makecream puffings. "

"Dear me, " said Bea, by way of answer and looking up with a slightpucker to her smooth forehead, "Just look at those girls; I never sawthe like. "

Ernestine looked up, to catch a glimpse of two flying figures justclearing the fence, and come dashing across the grass like unrulyarrows, to throw themselves under the shade of the beech, with a supremedisregard for flesh and bones. 

"Goodness gracious!" gasped Kittie. 

"Gracious goodness!" panted Kat. 

"I beat. "

"No sir, I did. "

"You didn't! I was on this side of the fence before you jumped. "

"Just listen! why I was pretty near to the tree before you got to thefence. "

"Why Kat Dering! You know better. "

"I don't. "

"You do. "

"Well I'd fight about it, " said Ernestine, as the two sat up and facedeach other with belligerent countenances. "You are a pretty lookingcouple anyhow. I'd be ashamed. "

"Don't care if you would. I beat anyhow, " said Kat with decision. 

"Indeed you didn't; I did myself, " said Kittie with equal certainty, butsmiling more amicably as she fanned energetically with her hat. "Ohgirls such fun! I must, ----"

"Now Kittie, " cried Kat with a warning jump and scowl. 

"Bless us, I'm going to tell; indeed I am. You're a trump, Kat, and theyshall hear all about it; don't you want to girls?"

"To be sure, go on, " said Bea with interest and creasing down a hem withmuch satisfaction in the thought that her hands looked very pretty andwhite, almost as pretty as Ernestine's. 

"Well you see, " began Kitty, as Kat retired under her hat in a spasm ofunusual modesty, "when we came in from recess this afternoon, Kat wantedto sit in my side of the seat, and told me to act as if I was she, so Ithought it was to be a lark of some kind and did, but dear me----"

"Well go on, " said Ernestine with languid curiosity, as Kittie paused tolaugh at some recollection. 

"Just as soon as we got in Miss Howard told us to put books away; thenshe gave us the breeziest lecture and was as solemn as an owl. Icouldn't imagine what was up. Susie Darrow was crying with herhandkerchief to her nose, Kat looked as if she was sitting on pins andneedles, and I really thought that Sadie Brooks and May Moor would eatus up, the way they actually glared at us. Well, the first thing I knew, Miss Howard was saying something about a needle in Susie Barrow's pen, that she had stuck her nose with, and she wanted whoever had put itthere to come to her desk. That's the way she always does, you know;never calls a name unless she finds she has to, and bless you! whoshould I see walking off but Kat, and what does Miss Howard do but takeher ruler and give her fifteen slaps on the hand. Kat, I'm meaner'ndirt, and you're a jewel; you did beat, I'll own up. "

"No such thing, you beat yourself, " came in a sepulchral growl fromunder the hat. 

"Well I'm sure I don't see the point, " said Ernestine with impatience. "It was very rude and unlady-like to put a needle in Susie's pen and youdeserved your fifteen slaps. "

"Just wait 'till I finish, will you, " cried Kittie, as the hatmaintained perfect silence, "Kat didn't do it, but she heard that I did, and that I was going to be whipped, so she took my seat and jumped upthe minute Miss Howard spoke, and the only way I found out was when MissHoward said, 'Now Kittie you must beg Susie's pardon before the school. 'Then I knew something was up, and just popped right out of my seat andsaid that that was Kat, not me, and didn't it make a hub-bub, and didn'tMiss Howard look funny!"

"It was lively, " broke in Kat, and coming out from under the hat as ifinspired with the recollection, "Miss Howard looked as blank as youplease, and like to have never gotten at the straight of it; but afterawhile lame Jack told how he had seen Sadie and May fix it themselves, and plan to tell it was Kittie, and oh didn't they look cheap, anddidn't they creep off to-night and take every book along?"

"But wasn't Kat just too dear and good to take a whipping to save me, "cried Kittie, throwing both arms around her twin in a hug full ofdevotion. "I'll never forget it, Kat Dering, never!"

"Well you'd better, " said Kat, on whom praise and glory resteduneasily, though she looked pleased and returned the hug with interest. "You'd have done it for me, I know, and I would again for you any day. Let's go out on the roof; it's much cooler than here. "

"You'd better not, " laughed Ernestine. "Olive's out there sketching, andshe'll take your head off with her usual sweetness, if you bother any. "

"Who cares? I'm going. Come on Kittie. "

"No let's not; it's cool here, " returned Kittie lazily. "Where have youbeen Ernestine, all rigged in your best?"

"Been at home pining for some place to go, " said Ernestine drawing thesewing from Bea's hand, and leaning over into that sister's lap with acaressive gesture. "Say Bea, dear, Miss Neilson is going to be in NewYork next week, and I want you to ask pa if he won't take us again;won't you?"

"Not fair, " cried Kat; "this is our turn. "

"You, indeed; nothing but children! Will you, Bea? He will listen moreif you ask because you're not so frivolous as I am. "

"Yes, I'll ask. I'd love to go again, " said Bea with girlish delight inanticipating such a bliss as the repetition of going to the city and tothe theatre. "What play would you like to see?"

"Romeo and Juliet again, " cried Ernestine eagerly. "Oh Bea, beg him to, for there are some other parts that I want to see how to do. "

"Do!" echoed Kittie, "Whatever do you mean?"

"Just what I say. I'll show you how they do; shall I, Bea?" exclaimedErnestine, springing gayly into the sunshine and striking an attitude. 

"Yes, go on; you do it beautifully, " said Bea; so Ernestine plungedblithely into the play, thoroughly entrancing her three listeners withthe ease and grace with which she spoke and acted, and receiving showersof applause as she paused. 

"How delightful, " cried Kittie, in a longing rapture. 

"Nonsense, " exclaimed Kat, who had listened intently with her nosesteadily on the ascent, "It looks all very pretty and nice here, but Ishould think anybody would feel like a fool to get out on a stage and goranting about like that. "

"Oh! it's too delightful, " cried Ernestine, as Bea passed no commentexcept a little sigh. "I shall run away some day sure as the world andbecome a great actress; then I'll be rich and famous and you'll allforgive me. "

"I thought you always wanted to sing, " said Kittie, chewing grassthoughtfully, as she meditated on this new and startling talent andwondered what would next develop. 

"So I do, but I shall sing and act both. Now then pretend that I amMarguerite, in Faust, you know, and see if you don't think I can doboth, as well as one. " So they all looked and listened, while she sangand sang, 'till the very birds hushed their music in envious listening, and the rustling leaves seemed to grow still in very amaze. The sunshinedanced over her bright hair, and the lovely face flashed with a radiantexcitement that showed how deep an enjoyment even the pretense was toher. 

[Illustration: "O ERNESTINE, HOW LOVELY!"]

Rapturous applause followed, and a new voice cried out, "Oh! Ernestine, how lovely; do it over, " and turning, they beheld an additional three tothe audience. Jean leaning on her little crutch, wild with delight;Olive, tall and still with a curl on her lip to match the scowl on herforehead; and mother, --but what was the matter with mother, Beawondered. She was very pale, and though she smiled, it did not hide thetremble that hung to her colorless lips. 

CHAPTER II. 

AROUND THE FIRE. 

A September twilight was coming on slowly, and in the grass the cricketschirped back and forth to each other. The house was all open, andthrough the windows came a merry chatter, a few rattling notes of thepiano, and something that sounded very much like a warm argument, for agame of chess was going on by one window. Out on the broad porch thatran all along the front of the house, and was shrouded with vines, stooda girl, leaning idly against the post and watching the shadows gatheracross the long walk. She was not a pretty girl, nor one that you wouldcare to look at twice, because of any pleasure it gave you; though hadyou really studied her face there might have been something found in itafter all. There was a drawn, discontented look about her mouth, thatmade the lips look thin and snappish; it even spoiled the shape of herreally pretty nose, which was straight and finely cut. The brows, straight and black, held a heavy frown between them, and the eyesbeneath had an unsatisfied, sour look, not at all attractive. Herforehead was altogether too high for beauty of any kind; and as thoughthere was a relief in making herself look just as ugly as possible, allher hair was drawn back painfully smooth, and tucked into a net. Everything about her, from the crooked look of her necktie to the toe ofher slipper, with its rosette gone, plainly indicated that she wasdissatisfied with herself and aided nature by her own carelessness andindifference, to make herself just as unattractive as possible. Some onecame up behind her as she stood there indulging in thoughts anything butpleasing and laid a gentle touch on her arm. 

"Olive?"

"Well?"

"What makes you like to stay by yourself so much, and where it isn't sonice? The yard is getting so dark, and it's real chilly. Don't you everget afraid?"

"Afraid here on the steps? That's silly, Jean. "

"Perhaps 'tis, but I'm such a big coward; I suppose it's because Icouldn't run if anything ever was to happen;" and Jean gave a littlesigh, as she smoothed the padded top of her crutch. 

Olive gave a little start, half impatient, and turned around to ask, almost wistfully, "Jean, do you never get tired or impatient, or thinksometimes that you'd rather be dead than always walk on a crutch andhave your back grow crooked?"

"Why, Olive!" Jean lifted her beautiful eyes to look at her sister'srestless face, "I couldn't be so wicked as that, could you?"

In the twilight Olive flushed at the question and at the clear eyessearching her face. How many, many times had she wished she was dead, and for nothing except that she was ugly and awkward, and bound to seeeverything with the darkest side up. 

"I'm not as good as you, " she answered evasively. 

"Oh I'm not good, " said Jean, with a little laugh, half a sigh, "I doget real tired sometimes, Olive, and I do want to be straight and wellso much; but Miss Willis told me something in Sunday-school last Sunday, that has made me feel so good; she said, 'Jeanie, don't get impatient ordiscouraged, for God has a reason why he wants you to be lame; it is tobe for the best some way, and perhaps sometime you will see it;' and shesaid that when I tried to be happy and bear my lame back, it made Godvery happy; and when I was cross and fussy, it made him sad. "

Olive gave her eyes a swift brush with the back of her hand, and askedwith a little choke, "Do you believe all that, Jean. "

"Why, Olive, yes! Don't you?"

"I don't know, --who is that?" was Olive's rather disjointed answer, asthe click of the gate sounded through the still evening air. 

"It's Ernestine, I know, 'cause she went up town;--yes, there she is;"answered Jean, as a figure appeared under the foliage and came towardthe steps. 

How different she looked from Olive and Jean. Such a slim, gracefulfigure, with a proud little head and sunny shining hair, in loose puffsand curls and a jaunty hat. A face like a fresh lily, and beautifulbrown eyes, the sweetest voice, and the vainest little heart ever knownto a girl of fifteen, had Ernestine Dering; and yet she was a favorite, with all her little vanities, and home, without Ernestine's face, wouldhave been blank to all the girls. She came running up the steps andstopped. 

"Oh, Olive, such laces!" she cried, with a longing sigh. "They areselling out at cost, and the ribbons and laces are just going for almostnothing; if I had just had a little spending money I would have been inclover. One clerk just insisted upon my taking an exquisite lace scarf;oh it was so becoming! but I told him I didn't know they were sellingout, and that I would have to come again. "

"Pretty way of talking!" snapped Olive ungraciously. "You know you won'thave any more money another day than you have this; why couldn't you sayno?"

"Say that I couldn't afford it?" cried Ernestine gayly. "Not I. Besides, I reasoned that if one of you would loan me some, I'd have more anotherday. "

"Suppose one of us won't, " said Olive, looking darkly over her sister'spretty hat. 

"I didn't suppose _you_ would, " laughed Ernestine "But fortunately forme, I have some obliging sisters, " and with that shot, Ernestine wentin, singing like a mocking bird, and Jean followed slowly, looking backonce or twice to Olive's motionless figure. 

Oh how it cut! Olive grew flushed and white, then her brows cametogether darkly and her lips shut tight. "Ernestine is too frivolous tolive, " she said grimly; then looked straight off into the evening skyand was silent. But down to her proud, sensitive heart she was hurt, andin it was the longing wonder, "Why don't she come to me and ask as shedoes of Bea and the others. I would loan it to her;" but this feelingshe fiercely refused to countenance, and shut her heart grimly, as shedid her lips. 

The broad old hall that ran clear through the house was growing quitedark with shadows; the game of chess had ended, and the players left thewindow, and presently Olive turned slowly and went into the house. Through the sitting-room came a lively chatter, and as she passed thedoor some one shouted, "Halloo!"

"Well I'm not deaf. Do you want me?"

"Pining to have you; come sit on my lap. "

Olive passed in, but disregarded the hospitably inclined young lady wholounged in a big chair, and passed on to a dusky corner, where shecurled up on the lounge. 

"Olive, " volunteered Kittie, who was in the window-sill, "mama has aplan; she's going to tell us after supper, and we've all been trying toguess what it is; what do you think?"

"I don't think anything. "

"What a glorious lack of curiosity, " laughed Kat. 

"I suppose I'm just as contented as any of you with your guessing, "returned Olive. 

"Well I wish, " said Ernestine with an energy that brought instantattention, "I wish papa was going to increase our allowances. Twodollars a month is a shameful little. "

"But it amounts to ten dollars when paid to five girls, " added Beatricequickly, "besides Jean's twenty-five cents. "

"A girl isn't supposed to spend two dollars every month forfoolishness, " said Olive severely. "You might call it a little if youhad to live on it. "

"I exist on my pretty things almost as much as I do on my food, "answered Ernestine flippantly, "and what does two dollars buy?"

"Suppose you go awhile without spending it, then you'll have more, "suggested Kittie practically. 

"Yes, " added Kat with a laugh. "Kittie saved fifty cents last month, andI saved just three; why _don't_ you do as we do and economize. "

"How much have each of you saved altogether since papa began paying us?"asked Beatrice. "I have nine dollars and thirty-four cents. "

"Whew!" whistled Kittie. "I've got just three. I tell you caramels aredisastrous to my pocket money. "

"I wear out my gloves, love butter-scotch, and lost my head over acertain pair of slippers; consequence, two dollars and eight cents in mytreasury, " moaned Kat, with great self reproach. 

"Well, I do everything that is frivolous, and unwise, and extravagant, but I have a good time, and the result is that I haven't a cent, and amin debt a dollar, " laughed Ernestine, kicking out her pretty foot withits fancy little slipper, as if in defiance to anyone's criticisms orreproofs. 

"Two more to hear from yet, " said Beatrice, as silence fell. "Jeanie, have you spent all your quarters?"

"No, " said Jean slowly and with much hesitation, "I had two dollars andspent one for a sash. "

"And I borrowed the other, " interrupted Ernestine, seeing that the childdid not want to tell on her. "How much have you, Olive?"

"I made no promise to tell, " leaped to Olive's lips; but instead ofspeaking it, she electrified them by saying, with a quiet smile ofsatisfaction, "Thirty dollars. "

It did more than surprise them; it was almost a stun for a minute ortwo; then Ernestine slowly opened her lips: "Why, Olive Dering! whereverdid you get it? If you'd never spent a cent of your allowance, papahasn't been paying us long enough for it to amount to that. "

"I suppose, for a girl that isn't a fool, there are more ways of gettingmoney than sitting down with her hands folded and letting her fathergive it to her, " retorted Olive with a snap. 

"That's so, Olive, " echoed Beatrice, with a heartiness that made themjump. "But what did you do? tell us quick; see every one of us stiffwith curiosity. "

It just occurred to Olive to let them remain stiff with curiosity, butperhaps an amount of satisfaction in the way she had earned her money iswhat changed her mind; at any rate, she began more readily than theothers expected: "I sold the old iron out in the barn, and several bagsof rags; then I've done some writing for papa's clerk, because he washurried; and last week I sold my picture. Of my allowance I only spentenough for two pairs of gloves, that have lasted me with mending; sothat's how I made my money. "

"Blessings on you!" cried Kat enthusiastically. "I look upon you as amodel, Olive, a living----"

"Nothing of the kind, " interrupted Olive sharply, and rising up out ofher corner, as if warming to the subject. "I'm only trying to besensible; we're all old enough to be that, and be something more too. Iwonder if we are never going to do anything but sit here at home, withpapa to feed and dress us, besides giving us an allowance for littlethings and nonsense. I think it's wrong, and lazy, and a namby pamby wayof being a useless thing, just because you are a girl! Besides, papa isworried and troubled; yes he is;--" warming still more at the breathlessattention given her. "The other night, he and mama talked for hours, andI couldn't help hearing a little, because the transom was open. Hisvoice was troubled, so was mama's, and sad, and he said something about'lessening expenses, ' and the difficulty of getting any ready money, andall that, and I believe in my heart that we ought to help him!"

Into the stunned silence that followed this outburst from short-spoken, reticent Olive, there came a new voice; such a sweet, lovely voice witha tender ring that made every one start to welcome the speaker. 

"How dark you are, dears. Are all my steps here?"

"All here, solemnly engaged, " answered Kat, unfolding herself from thebig chair to make a seat for mother. 

"And _just_ think, " cried Kittie, with a lurch that pretty near tippedher out of the window. "Olive----"

"Has done wonders, " interrupted Beatrice. "Be still all of you! Let'snot tell mama yet. "

Mrs. Dering laughed cheerily, at the sudden popping of a secret into theair, but announced that supper was ready, at which there was such astampede as only a lot of hungry, healthy girls can make, and thesitting-room was left dark and still. 

You see there were six of them--five strong bright girls, and onelittle lame sister, to laugh and sing, and make that big, roomy, comfortable, old home happy. Beatrice, seventeen; Ernestine, sixteen;Olive, fifteen; then Katherine and Kathleen or Kittie and Kat, twelve, and lastly, little Jean, with her flower-like, patient face and poorcrooked little back. To help and guide them, was the dear, loving motherwho called them her 'steps;' and the strong, helpful father, who rompedand played, or read and studied with them and called Kittie and Kat 'hisboys;' Olive his 'right hand man;' Ernestine, 'his picture;' Beatrice, his 'little woman, ' and Jean his 'little pansy. ' So now that you knowthem a little better, let us go into the dining-room and see what theyare doing. Meetings at the Dering table are always lively ones, "Goodfor digestion and spirits, " said papa Dering, so everybody talked andlaughed and ate heartily, and went away without sour faces or sourstomachs. To-night, though, there is a change. Mr. Dering had a remarkfor each of the girls as they came in, then lapsed into silence, andstirred his coffee absently. Even Mrs. Dering could not hide a littleanxiety, though she tried to be gay and interested in the girls' talk, as usual. With Olive's words fresh in their minds, the rest closelywatched the faces of both parents, and each girl had thoughts and madeplans, in every way characteristic of their respective selves. 

Mr. Dering presently broke a silence by asking to be excused, as he mustgo back to the store--two most unusual things; for he always sat andtalked at supper 'till all were through, and rarely ever let anythingtake him away from an evening at home; so no wonder the meal wasshortened, and the party broke up. 

"Oh how nice!" cried Jean, as they returned to the sitting-room, wherein their absence, a bright fire had been built in the grate, and filledthe room with a warm rosy glow. "Here's my seat. "

"We'll tell our secrets by the first fire of the season, " said Mrs. Dering, as the girls all followed Jean's example, by pulling theirchairs into the circle of warmth and light. "I thought it was so chillythis evening that firelight would be more cosy and cheerful than a lamp. Now then, who shall begin?"

"Oh you, please, " cried Kittie. "We are so anxious. "

Every face warmly seconded her words, so Mrs. Dering began, after amoment's silence. 

"When you were all little children mama never let anything worry ordisturb you if she could help it, and if anything ever did, you cameright to her to be comforted and helped. Papa never let you be cold orhungry, and without clothes, or be sick, if he could help it, and theyboth loved you tenderly, didn't they?"

"Why goodness, yes!" cried Kat, with glistening, astonished eyes. 

"And now that you have become such big daughters, they love you none theless, but more if possible; because now they must give you more thoughtas you grow to womanhood. Now if----"

"Oh you needn't say another word!" cried Beatrice impulsively. "You lookas if you didn't know how to tell us; but we know. Your secret is thesame as ours; papa is worried, and we are all, every one of us, ready tohelp him!"

"Why my dear girls!" cried mama, with her eyes full of tears. "How didyou know?"

"Olive saw, and then heard the other night, " cried Kittie excitedly. "She's got thirty dollars already, and was giving us a regular lecturejust before supper. Now I'm going to----"

"Wait a minute, dear, " said mama, laughing as she shook her finger. "Iknew Olive was saving her allowance, and that she had earned some money, and I was very much pleased; but I am more than happy to find that shewas doing it for papa. "

To every one's surprise, Olive grew scarlet and turned her face clearaway from the light; but she brought it back in a minute, and said, withlips that tried to be stiff and firm--for praise was dear to Olive--"Ididn't do it for papa--I didn't know then--I----" and then, sooner thancry, Olive stopped, and left them to think what they would. 

"But you are willing for it to go to papa now, " finished Mrs. Dering, smiling brightly, and bringing some of the cloud from Olive's eyes. "That is just as noble, dear, " and with these skillfully thrown inwords, mother smiled again, for only she understood her daughter'speculiar disposition. 

"When I was a girl, " went on Mrs. Dering, "Grandpa was very wealthy, youknow, and of course gave me every advantage. I took music from the mostdistinguished professors, also painting and the languages, and at theage of eighteen, was handed over to society as finished in every way. Iloved the gayeties that surrounded me, just as well as ever a girlcould, but after a while, it struck me as being such an idle, aimlesslife, for a well educated, sensible girl to live, so I determined tomake use of all that I had received. I had a small class in music, andone in painting and drawing; some of them paid, and some, members of mySunday-school class, did not. After that, I felt so much happier andmore contented, and enjoyed all my fun so much more, so I decided thatif ever I had any daughters, they should be fitted to be independent, whether it was ever necessary or not. I have never been able to supplyyou with masters as I was, but I have taught you thoroughly myself, andwhile I did not intend that you should begin quite so early, the timehas come suddenly, when we must all help. So you, my older girls, I wantyou to choose as your choice lies, and fit yourselves so as to make ityour stand-by, in this and other times of trouble. "

"Oh, " exclaimed Ernestine, with a sudden smile; she had looked very muchworried, for work or self-denial was distasteful, and yet it seemed sonear. But now she smiled and nodded brightly, "I know what I will do, mama. I'll go on cultivating my voice and work hard, so that I may takea position in some city church, where everything is so elegant andprima-donnas get such immense salaries. "

"Yes, dear, music is unmistakably your talent, " said Mrs. Dering, and ifthey had only noticed it, she did not smile, and her eyes, fixed on thefire, were tinged with deep sadness for a moment. "Cultivate your voice, and your fingers too; for the positions as prima-donnas are sometimeslacking, then you have a little class to fall back on. "

When no one was looking, Ernestine gave her head a decided little shake. It would be altogether touching and delightful, to stand up in a choirbefore a beautiful congregation, with a pale lily in your hat, thesunlight through a stained glass falling all around, and sing somethingpathetic, that would make people cry, and then have everyone say: "Sucha noble young girl, she does it to help her father. " But a class! A lotof little children to talk to, and teach, no one to ever see, orcompliment;--no! Ernestine would never cultivate her fingers; that wassure. 

"I'm a sort of jack at all trades, " said Beatrice breaking a thoughtfulpause with a little sigh. "I play a little, sing a little, draw alittle, but I've no talent for either, or anything else. "

"I know some one who is very fond of books and children, " said Mrs. Bering, with a suggestive smile. 

"Oh! to be sure, " cried Beatrice, brightening. "Teach, so I could. Wellnow, I'll go right on, harder than ever with my studies, and work up theFrench; I never can get German; I haven't the necessary twist to mytongue. "

Olive was studying the fire with an intense dreamy gaze. She did not saywhat she would do, but every one knew, or at least supposed they knew. Olive's talent lay in her pencil. Such wonderful pictures as she couldrapidly sketch, when the different moods took her!

"Well, I should like to know, " cried Kittie abruptly. "What will Kat andI do? We haven't got a shadow of a talent of any kind, and don't reallyknow how to behave ourselves yet; why, mama----, "

"I have you all fixed, dear, " interrupted mama. "Just wait a minute. "

"There isn't anything that I can do either, " said Jean, with a patheticlittle smile. "But I will give up my quarter every month; perhaps thatwill help papa a very little bit. "

"That's it, Jeanie, " cried Kat, with a startling suddenness. "We'll doit too, Kittie, and that will make four dollars and a quarter less forpapa to hand over every month. Second the motion, Kittie?"

"Done!" echoed Kittie, and every body had a hearty laugh as the twinsshook hands violently over the table. 

"But, mama, " said Olive's quiet voice, breaking in upon the racket, "Yousay papa is worried now, and yet what the girls have decided to do, they can only do when they have fitted themselves for it; can't we doanything to help right away?"

"Quite right, dear, " answered Mrs. Dering. "You can all help right away;though in a way that papa will strongly object to, for he does not liketo deprive home of any pleasures, or little luxuries that he can afford. But we will go ahead and make our plans and take him by storm. First, there is the horse and carriage; it will seem hard and strange for awhile without it, but it is a great expense, together with Jack's wages. Papa has an opportunity of selling the buggy, and Mr. Phillips will take'Prince' until we can afford to keep him again. Are you willing?"

"Yes, mama, " in a rather feeble chorus, with Ernestine's voice lacking. 'Prince' was such a pet--O dear!

"And then, Lizzie, " continued Mrs. Dering, apparently not noticing theway all faces were going down. "We can get along with one girl, if weall make up our minds to work. The house is large and it will take allof our hands to do the necessary cleaning; but we can, can't we?"

"Yes, mama. " A little more energy this time. Only Ernestine sigheddolefully, and laid her hands out on her lap. Such slim little hands andso white. It was perfectly horrible to be poor and have to go to work;yes it was, and she privately resolved to shirk just as much aspossible. 

They had a long evening's talk over the coming change and how they weregoing to do, but at ten o'clock, as Mr. Dering was still absent, theyseparated for the night, and mama carried sleepy little Jean off to bedin her arms. 

Beatrice and Ernestine roomed together in the front room, the twins inone next, and Olive alone across the hall. Generally, while gettingready for bed, the doors were left open, and a merry conversationcarried on; but to-night, they were full of thought, and had not much tosay, so everything settled into quiet very soon after the "good nights"had been spoken. 

In the front room, the girls were wakeful. Beatrice, as the oldestsister, felt, in her quiet thoughtful way, that perhaps, the way she didin the coming change, would act as an example to the others; and that anextra duty rested on her, to be as patient and willing as possible, inwhatever might be necessary for them to do, and to be all to mother, that an elder daughter should be, in time of trouble. Ernestine was alsodeep in thought, and had twisted her pillow into such a position, thatthe moonlight made quite a halo around her yellow hair and made herface, with its beautiful eyes, look like a cameo in golden setting. Sheknew it, too, just as well as Beatrice, who at that moment, turned andlooked at her, and furthermore, she knew just how to go on with what shewanted to accomplish. 

"Bea, " she said, with her voice dropped to its sweetest, "I want you todo something for me. "

"What?"

"You said you had nine dollars, will you loan me five?"

"How? I was going to give it to papa to-morrow. "

"You know he wouldn't take it, " began Ernestine, impatiently; thensmoothed her voice carefully again, and went on: "Papa won't have usgive up everything, Bea. We are all willing to lessen expenses at home, but we are not to scrimp and pinch ourselves all to pieces. I'll pay youback just as soon as----"

"It isn't that, " interrupted Bea, "But I don't see how you can want tospend it now. "

"But I do; there are the loveliest lace scarfs----"

"Lace scarfs;" cried Bea again, in shocked surprise. "Would you, Ernestine?--Five dollars?"

"Certainly! Since we've made my old black silk over, it looks so nice, and I've nothing fit to wear around my neck. I'm sure its not much andI'm going to work this winter, am I not?"

Bea turned her pillow over and laid her head down thoughtfully. WasErnestine selfish, or had she much heart? The question had often comesilently up, and been put as silently down, but now it lingeredpersistently, though Bea moved her head restlessly, as if to get rid ofit. If Ernestine wanted anything, she left no avenue untried, and got itif possible, no matter at whose expense or self-denial. All throughfifteen years of her life, she had kept a clear unfaltering eye onherself, her wants, and her welfare, and after they were all supplied, she was ready and willing to help any one else; but no one must everask, or expect it at the expense of her personal comfort or plenty. Yetwith her candies, the girls had lion shares; her pretty things, --andsomehow all of Ernestine's things were so pretty and graceful, --sheloaned willingly, and was never too tired or unwilling to help thegirls' dress on great occasions; for though Olive was the artist, Ernestine had the artist's quick eye for graceful draping, harmony ofcolors, and picturesque structures of hair. Moreover, she was alwaysgood natured, nothing ever ruffled her, except for a passing moment, andany hour of the day, you might hear her voice, just like a bird's, filling the house with music, while her lovely face made sunshine; so itcame, that she received the credit for making home happy, when she didit with no such intention, or exertion, only because she loved to sing, and it was perfectly natural for her to be gay and untouched byanything. 

"I'm sure, " she said, speaking suddenly, as Bea gave a restless twist toher head. "You needn't, if you don't want to, Bea. Perhaps you want tobuy----"

"You know better, " cried Bea, flying up from her rumpled pillow. "Idon't want to buy anything, and if you want to spend five dollars for alace scarf, why you're welcome to my money. That's all. Good night. "

Next Sunday, when the girls went to church, Ernestine wore a cob-webbyscarf of ivory white over her "made-over" silk, and put a creamy daylily in her yellow hair, and the girls looking at her, silently thought:"No wonder papa calls her his picture!"

CHAPTER III. 

A FOUNDATION THAT BROUGHT KAT TO GRIEF. 

Slam! went the gate, knocking the dead leaves right and left, and whiz!went two girls up the walk, like unruly sky-rockets, with the odd endsflying. Rattle-de-tap, went four feet with steel-capped heels over theold shady porch, and bang! went the door back against the wall;then:----

"Mama, ----"

"Bea, --Er, ----"

"Nestine, Olive, ----"

"Jean, hurry;--let me tell first. Miss----"

"I beat to the steps, I ought to tell, " shrieked Kat, as Kittie chokedfor breath. "Miss Howard is going to give us a, ----"

"Nutting party!" shouted Kittie, with a triumphant breath. "Hurrah, three cheer-r-s!"

"Mercy on me, " cried a voice from up stairs. "What is the matter; whatare you doing?"

"Kittie's dancing a jig, and Kat's sliding down the bannisters, "exclaimed a horrified voice from somewhere else. "Mercy! Bea, call mama;I think they've gone crazy. "

"Nutting party, " cried Kittie, dancing furiously and nodding her headlike a demented monkey. "To-morrow, ----want to go?"

The girls had all collected by this time around the boisterous pair, andBea flapped her sewing warningly, as Kat came whizzing down thebannisters for a final time, and landed with a dexterous jump, in themiddle of the group. 

"I'm going down town, " said Ernestine, after hearing of the near andgreat event. "I can't go. "

"Of course not, " said Kittie, with great scorn. "You'd rather go downtown, and be all the afternoon buying a shoe string, than get a Saratogatrunk full of nuts; but you'll want some of mine this winter. "

Olive was busy on a picture, Bea had some sewing, so the twins mustrepresent the Dering family, and accepted the matter quite blissfully, to judge from the way they raced off for parts unknown, and remainedabsent for some time, as if strange and wonderful preparations werenecessary, and being undergone for to-morrow. They came back when thetea-bell rang, at least Kittie did, slowly and solemnly through the backyard, and lingered several minutes on the porch, with many mysterioussignals to some one, down where the long yard sloped to the pond, and afringe of willows shaded the water. 

"Where's Kathy, " inquired Ernestine, who strongly objected to theextremely abbreviated form of 'Kat. '

"Down at the pond, she's coming, " answered Kittie, with a strangelyworried look; but Ernestine flitted by without noticing it, and prettysoon Kittie quit leaning over the lattice and went in slowly. 

Just as Mrs. Dering was leaving her room to go down to tea, she heard apeculiarly suspicious noise out in the back hall, unmistakably thecareful opening of a window, as of someone on the low roof without, andpausing to listen, Mrs. Dering became convinced, that someone was surelymaking entrance to the house in that questionable manner. A midnightburglary was a rare occurrence in Canfield, but one in the early fall ofevening, was beyond imagination, and yet Mrs. Dering was conscious of alittle trepidation, as she tiptoed her way round to the back hall, andfancy pictured a man, with sly intent, coming over the window-sill. Whoever the intruder was, he was working with great care, and whollyunconscious of any one's approach, for when Mrs. Dering reached thecorner and peeped around, the intruding head was just leveled, andcoming through, carefully followed by a nimble body, but not clothed inthe habiliments usually donned by burglars; instead, there appeared ablue calico much drenched and ornamented with wet weeds, an apron whollyunrecognizable as to color or design, and a drabbled hat hanging to theintruder's neck. As this queer apparition landed on the floor, Mrs. Bering stepped around the corner, whereupon the bold burglar jumped andscreamed faintly, and the lady laughed, though she said with graveinquiry:

"Why Kathleen! What does this mean?"

"Oh, mama!" gasped the burglar, with a despairing glance at her drippingself. "I didn't want you to see me. "

"Nor any one else, from the way you came in I should think. What is thematter?"

Kat grasped her wet hat, and looked desperately sorry and resigned allat once. 

"Why, I went out in the boat, " she said, twisting the wet ribbons aroundher fingers and dropping her eyes to the floor, with a little flush ofshame, "and it upset, and I had to wade in, but I couldn't get it, andit's sailing upside down, way out in the pond. I don't know whateveryou'd better do to me, I'm sure. "

"Disobeyed papa. O Kathleen!"

"Well I didn't mean--, " there Kat stopped, and swallowed several timesvery hastily; she would rather have been shaken, than to have heard thatgrieved tone. "I was only going to ride a little ways, but the wind blewme out; I know it was wrong, though, cause pap said, not to touch it. "

"Go to your room and get off your wet clothes as quickly as possible, and after supper I will come and talk to you about it, " said Mrs. Dering, turning away to hide the smile, that poor, dripping, shame-facedKat could not but provoke. 

The announcement that "Water-Rat" was face down out in the pond, causeddire dismay at the supper-table, so that when the meal was finished, andMrs. Dering went up to talk to repentant Kat, the rest of the family allhurried down to the pond to view the disaster. There was the gaylypainted boat, floating idly back and forth with the wind, out in thepond, and the girls expressed their great dismay in a dismal chorus of"Oh's, " long prolonged, as it floated farther away. "Never mind, " saidpapa Dering, briskly. "We'll get her all safe again, a little bath won'thurt her. Here Kittie, you're the best runner, go to the house and bringme the largest hammer and longest nails in the tool-chest. Be quicknow. " Kittie was off like a flash, and when she came back, there werethree or four logs lying ready for use, with some planks and a longpole, and Mr. Bering with coat off, fell to work with a will and suchspeed, that in ten minutes, a small raft lay in the water, and Mr. Dering was making preparations for his voyage, by pulling off his bootsand tucking his pants up. 

"You don't suppose you could get drowned, do you papa, " questioned Jean, somewhat overcome with these unusual proceedings, and clinging to herseat in a low willow with some trepidation. 

"Not much, little one. I guess if Katty can wade out of this water, papacan, providing he's tipped in. Now good-bye, girls. Wish me well. "

Kittie in the willow, and Bea and Ernestine on a log, gave three partingcheers with such force, that Kat, crying forlornly up in her room, ranto the window to see the fun, and watched with great interest the rescueof the "Water Rat, " which Mr. Dering effected with great skill and manyflourishes, to the delight of his audience. After being pulled out onthe grass, face up again to dry, the rescued "Rat" was left to thetwilight, while the party returned to the house. 

The new arrangements had been in hand about a week, and so far, thegirls were delighted and enthusiastic over "helping, " though they didmiss "Prince" and the buggy very much. As Mrs. Dering had said, papadecidedly objected to any such arrangements and privations, but one managainst seven determined women!--oh, my! just think of it! So they hadtheir way, and it was such a comfort to see, that already he began tolook a little less worried and anxious when out of the store. 

That night, when the girls went to bed, Kat was very much subdued, andkept her face quite persistently out of sight. Kittie administeredcomfort in broken and complete doses, but without much effect, for justnow, when under the new enthusiasm, every one was doing her best in allways, Kat felt her disgrace, more deeply than was customary for her, whofell into it, and out again pretty nearly every day, and so she refusedto be comforted. Perhaps there was another reason for the complete anddeep contrition. At any rate, she whispered to Kittie with a choke, thatfought against being a sob, --before they went to sleep; "Oh, Kittie!--Ican't go--go, nutting!"

Sure enough. Kat ate her breakfast with red eyes and a poor appetite thenext morning, while the sun shone, as it surely never did before, andKittie gayly laughed and chatted, but trying to be not too happy, as wasconsistent with the deep sympathy felt and expressed for suffering Kat, who had vanished beyond the power of sight or search, when at eighto'clock, a merry party halted at the gate, and the home girls, gaylyescorted Kittie and her baskets down the walk. 

That was a dismal morning to be sure. Kat did her portion of the workbefore any of the other girls came up stairs, and no one saw her againthat morning, for with a volume of history, "St. Elmo, " and six apples, she departed for the back roof, where she sat down and cried as hard asever she could for five minutes, then opened the history, and took afierce bite out of the biggest apple. 

"There, I won't cry another tear, it's a blessing that I wasn't shut upfor the day, instead of being allowed to roam around, when I can't letthings alone that I'm told to. I'm going to learn a chapter of thishistory, now, before I read a word of 'St. Elmo, ' though I don't see theuse. Whatever do I care about the Edwards' and Henrys' and all that!"And then Kat shook herself, opened her book, and valiantly attackedHenry the Fifth, with every possible intention of doing just exactlywhat she said; but in about ten minutes a little puff of wind sailedacross the roof, tossed open the cover of 'St. Elmo, ' fluttered theleaves, then flew away, leaving them open, just where Edna goes to theold church for the last time, and Kat's eyes strayed right down to thetempting words, and somehow they did not come back at once. 

That old roof was just like all the rest of the house, roomy, shady andcool. The flourishing top of a huge apple-tree reached over one side ofit, with tempting seats in its boughs, and on another side, was the wideroomy window, with its worn sill, that led into the garret of the mainpart of the house. Solid comfort had it always been to the girls, andsometimes on warm Sunday afternoons, all the family might be found, distributed over its flat, roomy surface, with old comforts and pillows, and a good supply of books and fans. 

Crash! went something suddenly and away sailed "St. Elmo, " to bump hisvillainously fascinating head against the chimney, while Kat jerked herhistory open again and heard the profoundest and most melancholy sigh. 

"What's the use! 'Henry the Fifth was born, '--I wonder who cares, dearme, I wish Kittie was here! 'Was born on'"--But, as if in answer to thatwish so heartily uttered, there came two arms around her neck, andthere was Kittie, laughing gayly as she nodded her head. 

"I just wonder if you thought I would go to a nutting party, when youcouldn't, " she exclaimed. "I guess I haven't forgotten who was whippedin school the other day to save me. Bless me! Studying history!"

"Why, Kittie Dering!" was all the answer, she received from astonishedKat, "Didn't you go!"

"Looks as if I didn't, don't it?"

"And just for me?"

"Just for you!"

Thereupon, Bea, who was watching at the window, went down stairs, andreported that Kittie and Kat were having a "love feast" out on the roof. 

That afternoon, amusements flagged. It was unusually warm for so late inthe year, and Kat stretched lazily out on a bench, under the trees, while Kittie sat on the grass, and enjoyed herself pleasantly withnothing. "I tell you, " exclaimed the latter, with a hearty jump, occasioned partly, by a new idea, partly by the sight of a huge spider, that was lumbering over the grass towards her. "Let's go over to the newchurch. "

"What for?"

"Walk on the foundation; it's all finished and splendid to race on allthe way round. "

"Jolly idea, " cried Kat, jumping from her bench, forgetting a previousassertion, that it was, "too hot to move!" and away they went, down thewalk, at the usual break-neck speed taken by them, when in a hurry;Kittie rushing through the gate, while Kat nimbly cleared the fence. 

Nobody was around to see, or be horrified, for it was on the edge oftown, and anyhow, it seemed utterly impossible to convince these girlsthat they were nearly thirteen years' old, and ought to stop being suchhoydens. Bea's little cautions, Ernestine's careful talks and examplesof grace and dignity, Olive's open ridicule, and Jean's childish wonder, were all set aside, by a quiet smile from mama, or papa's heartyexclamation of--"let them alone--they're the only boys I've got. " SoKittie and Kat romped to their heart's content, while mama took carethat it did not make them too rude, and mended their torn clothes, witha patient smile, sometimes saying to herself: "Never mind, it makes themhappy and strong; so, as long as I am well, and have the time, I'll notcomplain of a few rips and tears. "

The new church, was only around the corner in a large green field, andthe foundation, broad, and not too nigh, was a tempting place to run; sothey clambered up, and raced back and forth, and all around severaltimes, 'till out of breath, then Kat paused, and looked about with acontemplative and venturesome air. 

"See here, Kittie, I'm going to walk across that narrow wall, where theyhaven't finished. "

"Pretty high; you'd better not;" replied Kittie, measuring the proposedwalk with a careful eye. "How will you get up?"

"Climb; it's only a step or two higher than this. "

Kittie leisurely followed the more adventuresome twin, and called outsuddenly: "Kat, there's an immense mud-hole at one side; looks as if itmight be deep too; better hold on. "

"Hurrah!" shouted Kat, in answer, as she balanced herself on the top ofthe narrow wall. "Here I go!" And there she did go, sure enough, forturning to nod triumphantly at Kittie, away went her balance, and aftertwo or three of the wildest, most fearful struggles, down came Kat, headand heels right into the mud-hole. 

"Oh, my goodness, --ha, ha, --my gracious; Oh-h! Kat Dering!" shriekedKittie, dancing wildly up and down. "Oh, Kat; if I ever--what a--asight! Oh--my!" and away went Kittie in another shriek, that prettynearly knocked her off the wall, and even made Kat smile while the tearstrickled down her muddy cheeks. 

"I'm sunk clear to my knees, " she cried despondently. "And my wristfeels so funny; Kittie, come, help me. "

Kittie jumped down in a hurry; examined the limp and already swellingwrist with anxious gravity, and then nearly strangled with laughterwhen, after several vigorous tugs and struggles, Kat came out of themud, leaving both her slippers hopelessly buried, and her clothes soheavy she could hardly walk. 

[Illustration: KAT AND KIT. ]

"Oh, Kittie! what shall I do, " she cried, giving up entirely, betweenthe sharp pain in her wrist, and the speedy arrival of this seconddisgrace. "It's only yesterday, that I crawled into the house in thisfix; I can't go again. "

"Never mind; I'll go, " said Kittie, lost in sympathy. "Everybody is inthe front part of the house, and I'll slip in the back way, go in overthe roof, and bring you some clothes. Just sit down here and wait; I'llhurry, and it'll be all right. "

So Kat sat down, quite pale with the painful wrist, and meditated, in adesperate fashion, on her inability to keep out of trouble and mischief;But Kittie was back in an incredibly short space of time, all flushedand panting, and with a little bundle of clothes tucked under her arm. 

"Here Kat is a skirt, and dress, and stockings, and my slippers, " shecried, running inside the wall where Kat sat forlornly. 

"No one saw me; here hurry. How's your wrist?"

"Hurts, " said Kat briefly, finding tears inclined to obstruct herutterance; and then they were silent, while the muddy garments werehastily laid aside and the dry ones slipped on; and the two startedround-a-bouts for home. 

A little while later, Kittie appeared at the sitting-room door, wherethe girls were sewing with mother, while Ernestine trilled and warbledat the piano. Mrs. Dering came out to the hall in answer to Kittie'sbeckon, and received this somewhat incoherent report:

"Kat's upstairs; we walked the foundation, and she fell off the highpart; I took her some clothes, but I don't know what she's done to herwrist;" and Mrs. Dering did not waste any time trying to get astraighter report, but hurried up stairs, where Kat was lying on thebed, moaning and trying not to cry, with the painfully swollen wrist, laid out on a pillow. Twenty minutes' later the doctor was there withsplints and bandages, and Kat, looking into his eyes with a vague alarm, asked, after he had examined it: "How long before I can use it?"

"Many weeks, Kathleen. "

"Why, is it badly sprained?"

"Worse, I think, my dear little girl, for it is pretty badly broken. "

CHAPTER IV. 

IN CONFIDENCE. 

Olive's door was locked. 

Jean saw her go in, and heard the bolt slide swiftly across after thedoor shut, and just the glimpse that the little girl had of her sister'sface, showed tears on the sallow cheeks, and hanging to the lashes. Olive was bitterly opposed to having any one know that she cried, andabove all things to have any one see her employed in that manner; sheherself, could not have told why perhaps, except that she did not wantit. All of her feelings were so carefully hidden, and herself so wrappedin a cloak of reserve, that the surface was as delicately sensitive, asgossamer, and at every touch that left its impress, she retired fartherwithin herself, and left less room for touch of any kind. Now, when shecaught a glimpse of Jean's face, she shut the door sharper than wasnecessary, and going over to the window, sat down and stared moodily offinto the yard, where the scarlet tops of the maples nodded to a golden, glowing sky. Surprised and curious, Jean lingered a moment, with herhand on the bannister, surveying the door thoughtfully, then limpedcarefully across, and knocked softly. 

"Who is it?" came tartly from within. 

"Me, Olive. Are you sick?"

"No. "

Jean turned away a little hurt. "Why need Olive speak so shortly?" shewondered, with the usual after-thought "Bea, never does, or the others. "

Olive listened to the little crutch going slowly down stairs, and waiteduntil everything was quiet, then she went over to a small trunk and satdown before it, lifted the lid, and supporting her chin in her hand, looked steadily into it, all the moody bitterness in her eyes changingslowly to a sadness that was almost despair. 

"Oh, I don't see why it is!" she cried suddenly, laying her head down onthe trunk's sharp edge, and breaking into a passionate sobbing, all thestronger for having been long denied. "I surely try, but, they areunkind; they are, I know. " And then the thick sobs broke vehementlyforth, and echoed out into the quiet hall; but Olive was alone upstairs, and she knew it; besides, I doubt if she could have controlled herselfnow, even had the whole of the amazed family confronted her. Poor, sensitive, unfortunate Olive; was it her fault wholly, that her sistersseemed able to be happy, quite regardless of her, and that she seemed tofill no place in home except as "that queer, homely Olive, " as she hadonce heard herself called? This afternoon, the girls had all dressedgayly, and gone for a ride behind "Prince" with Mr. Phillips. He hadsaid, "all the girls, " when asking for them, but Olive so seldom joinedin any of their little gayeties outside of home, that it really seemedstrange and out of place for her to go with them; so she waited, whenthe time came to dress, wondering, and half hoping that one of themwould express a little desire that she should go. Such a thought, however, occurred to no one; for so many times had she flatly refused togo, that they had all gradually ceased asking, supposing that she woulddo as she pleased. Once, to be sure, Bea did run up to the arbor, seeingher there, with the question on her lips, but Olive saw her coming, andfearing that the new desire and expectation would show in her face, benther eyes to her book, quite unconscious of the heavy scowl on her brow;so, after one glance, Bea withdrew in a hurry, remembering frequentcomplaints for disturbance. At the hasty disappearance, Olive looked upwith a bitter little smile, that would have instantly disclosed to anobserver, how she was construing the act, and how she was hurt in spiteof herself. 

"There! she was afraid she'd have to ask me something about it, if shecame in, so she got out in a hurry. But they needn't worry; I'll notforce myself in; I'm queer, and ugly, and had better stay by myself;"and with that, Olive shut her lips fiercely tight, and did not oncelift her eyes, when, a little while later, they all went laughing downthe walk, never heeding her or once regretting her absence. It oftenhappened so now, and Olive missed the coaxings with which they had oncetried to draw her out, never once dreaming that she had done away withthem herself, by shortly, tersely, and repeatedly asking, to "be letalone. "

No, this never occurred to her, as she sat there crying bitterly, buther broken words revealed the track of her thoughts. 

"They never let Ernestine stay home! Indeed not, and there's thegreatest commotion raised if she speaks of such a thing. She's prettyand graceful, and loves to dress up like a doll, while I'm ugly, andawkward, and always do things wrong, and disgrace them, I suppose. Idon't see what I'm crying for, I'm sure. I can be happy without them aswell as they without me!" and Olive raised her head defiantly, and flungthe tears from her lashes, for having cried; the burden seemed lighter, and the little hurt and loneliness less hard. "I've plenty to think ofbesides them, and I might as well go to work. " So out of the trunk camea box, and Olive's tears were as quickly gone as they had come. This boxheld a collection of sketches, many of them originals, some of themcopies, but all bearing marks of a strong talent, rude and somewhathasty as yet, but capable of much, when the young artist should havestudied, and brought a few happy ideas to color the faces and scenesthat grew from under her fingers. Now they clearly betrayed the unhappyspirit that prompted them, for there was not one glad sunshiny pictureamong them; instead, there were several faces of women, in variousattitudes of defiance or despair, with a stern relentless sorrowdarkening their eyes, and hardening their lips; then there was an oldboat over-turned in the shadow of a half-broken tree, and varioussketches of home scenery from the different windows of the house. Olivehad selected one, somewhat larger than the rest, and had gone to workrapidly, pressing her lips tightly in the earnestness of her work andthoughts, and the room was perfectly silent for a long time. Presentlyshe stopped abruptly, and balancing her pencil on her finger, looked outof the window with a troubled longing in her eyes. 

"I wonder if I ever can, " she murmured slowly. "How hard it is to bepatient, and wait, it's three months yet until I am sixteen, and theynever will let me I know, because it's too dangerous for a girl. I'msorry I am one anyhow; it makes everything go wrong. Now, there's mymoney, I'm glad I've got it to give to papa. Dear papa, I don't believehe or mama cares because I'm so ugly; I'll give it to him to-night, andthen while I'm waiting, I'll work and earn some more, so as to haveenough;" and, after ending this slightly enigmatical speech with anabrupt nod, Olive looked a little brighter and fell to work so rapidly, that she shaded a dimple until it looked like a bullet-hole in the cheekof her fair subject. 

Nothing further was heard for over an hour, then there came chatteringvoices, the slam of the gate, much laughter, and much spattering andcrunching of gravel, that announced a race up the walk, between thefestive twins, for though Kat's disabled arm swung gracefully in asling, she had, after the first day or two, returned to all her rompingwith undiminished ardor, thereby keeping the family in constant terror, lest the necessary appendage be forever disabled. Jean had reported toBea, the fact that Olive had locked her door and was crying, and withher conscience reproving her, Bea ran hastily up stairs, and knocked atthe door. "Olive, may I come in?"

"What for?"

"Well, just to talk a little, " Bea replied, knowing better than to giveJean's report. 

Olive unlocked the door, after having first surveyed her face to seethat no tears were visible. 

"Come in, if you want to; I'm drawing, " and Bea accepted the ungraciousinvitation, thinking to herself, as Olive straightway took her seat andpencil, and returned to work--

"Now Olive's in one of her moods, I wonder if I can say anything, " forthough not yet seventeen, Bea was womanly and thoughtful, and Mrs. Dering had sometimes talked with her, about the unfortunatepeculiarities of this sister's disposition, and asked her help in beingpatient, and trying to overcome it. 

"We had a delightful time, " began Bea, anxious to work aright. "'Prince'was such a dear old fellow and Mr. Phillips so kind. I'm so sorry youdidn't go, Olive. "

Nothing but pride kept Olive's face from brightening a little at this;she turned away, made a fierce dab at her subject's nose, and thoughtgrimly:--"It's all very well to be sorry now, when the thing's all over;I wonder if she thinks that I believe she's sorry, anyhow. "

"We went around by the river, and way up on the hill, " continued Bea, after waiting a reasonable length of time for an answer. "Mr. Phillipssays we may ride often. "

"Did he?"

"Yes, wasn't it kind? you know Mrs. Phillips and the girls are goingaway and 'Prince' will need exercising. "

"Of course. "

"Hasn't mama come home yet?"

"I don't know. "

"Perhaps Mrs. Dane is worse. "

No answer. 

"It's almost supper time, I should think she would be here, " and withthat, Bea got up, somewhat discouraged with the one-sided conversation;but paused again at Olive's side. 

"Oh! what a lovely face, " she exclaimed, bending over the artist'sshoulder. "Where did you get it, Olive?"

"Made it up. "

"Well, I really envy you such a talent; I have none at all. Why do youmake her look so sad?"

"That's the way she looked to my mind and I drew her so. Perhaps it'sbecause she has no sisters, " answered Olive, spoiling the meaningconveyed in the words by the sarcasm that crept into the voice, and Beadrew back, hurt and half inclined to be angry; but with her, a tenderheart always went ahead of a quiet temper and ruled, so she walked tothe door, saying as she went out: "You better put up your things;supper's nearly ready. "

After tea Olive whispered something to Mr. Dering, and to everyone'scuriosity, they went off together to the library. This was only a smallroom, but very cozy, with a dark green carpet on the floor, the chairsof various shapes, with the previous covering worn threadbare, neatlycovered with green cloth, a cover of like shade on the table, and oneside of the wall well packed with books; for Mr. Dering having neverbeen wealthy, had only by care, and much time, collected the books whichnow formed a faultless, small library. It was Ernestine's idea, havingthe room green, and bestowing upon it the important sounding name of"library, " for it suited her fancy by sounding stylish, and pleased herartistic eye by being all of one shade; so after much patient drilling, she got them all to call it "library, " excepting Olive, for that sister, disapproving of Ernestine's notions in general, did not like to yield tothis one, and insisted on calling it "study. "

Well, in here came Mr. Dering, Olive following with a light, saying, asshe placed it on the table:

"Papa, this is to be a secret. "

"Oh! oh! and you expect me to keep it?"

"Of course, at least a part of it, " and Olive looked so serious, as shecame and stood by his chair, that he became attentive in an instant, saying heartily:--"Well, go on dear, I'm listening, and promise to keepthe secret. "

Olive hesitated an instant, but she always hated to show any feeling, especially of embarrassment, so pitched into her subject abruptly, withher eyes down. "You know, papa, that we know that you have been troubledwith the hard times, and wanted to help you. "

"Yes, Olive, and I can never forget the way that my girls and their dearmother anticipated, and have done to help me. "

"No, " Olive answered, almost impatiently. "We have done nothing; it mostall falls on mama; she helps us with the work, and as for 'Prince, ' ofcourse, we loved him, but we girls are able to walk, it's only mama, whois denied; so all the help it is, she gives, not we. "

"Then we should love her all the more, dear, " said Mr. Dering; and thetenderness and love that shone in his face would have gladdened theheart of the wife of thirty years, had she seen it. 

"I don't think we can ever love her enough, " answered Olive heartily;then hesitated again, while her hand went slowly into her pocket, andcame slowly out again. 

"Hold your hand, papa. "

He did so, and after placing a little roll in it, and closing hisfingers over it, she said hurriedly: "It is only a little, papa; justthirty dollars that I have saved, but I want you to take it, and----"

"But Olive, my dear child----"

"Don't, please;" she interrupted hastily. "I know what you want to say, but it's not denying me anything, and what if it was? I want you to haveit. You never gave us our allowance to buy our clothes with, and as forfancy things, I don't care for them; I don't care to go out as the othergirls do, and I do not need it for anything. I only wish it was more. "

There may have been many reasons why Mr. Dering said nothing as he drewher on to his knee, and kissed her tenderly, but the right one would nothave been hard to guess had any one seen his eyes full of tears. Olive'sheart was beating happily, and she went on quite gayly: "And anotherthing, papa; now don't say anything until I finish; I want to have allmy own way to-night. You know, sometime ago I helped Mr. Hess with somewriting, and he said that if I would draw his little girl's head, hewould teach me how to keep books; well, he did, you know, and now I wantyou to dismiss him, and let me be your book-keeper. It would help you, and oh, I should love to so much; it seems as if I wasn't a bit of usethe way I live now, with nothing in particular to do. "

"Why, my dear little girl, " cried Mr. Dering, as she paused for breath. "Do you think they could spare you to me all day, down in that dusty oldstore?"

"Oh, yes, indeed!" and into Olive's brightened eyes crept a little ofthe old bitterness, as she recalled the afternoon. 

"And I'm to pay you----"

"Nothing of course, papa. "

"No, my dear, I cannot consent to that. "

"Please; I want to help you now. You may pay me when you are nottroubled any more about business. "

"Ah, yes; when!" said Mr. Dering sadly to himself. 

"Papa, " Olive put an arm about his neck. "Is it so bad as that? I'm notsixteen yet, but oh, I feel so much older, I can understand if you tellme. "

It really seemed so, as he looked into that grave, serious face, sounlike a merry, careless girl; and while a sigh crossed his lips, hiseyes looked trustingly into hers. 

"Yes, dear, I think you can. You deserve, and I am happy to give you, myconfidence; besides, I want to show you how you have helped meto-night. I am troubled very seriously, I have a note of six thousand tomeet within sixty days, or the store goes, I see no way of raising it. There is four thousand in the bank in mama's name, but I do not want totouch it, because if anything should happen to me, you would not haveone cent left in the world. Still, if one or two ways which I have inmind now, do not yield me something, I shall be obliged to take it, soas to save part of my business, and replace it as soon as possible. Thank God, the home is safe; it can never be taken from you, and neverwould I consider it my duty to rob my wife and children of home andhappiness, to liquidate my debts. I owe my creditors a duty which I willwork to fulfill, while I live; but, I owe my family a greater one; soOlive dear, the old home is always safe. To-night I am more thankful tohold thirty dollars, than two months ago, I would have been to hold ahundred, and only to-day I told Mr. Hess that I would have to do withouthim, and that I would try the book-keeping myself. "

He paused here, and the joy that mastered trouble in Olive's face, foundvent as she laid her head on his shoulder and cried heartily, "Oh papa Iam so glad, so glad!"

"You know more now, dear, than mama, " continued Mr. Dering, appreciatingthe caress, knowing how rare they were for any body from Olive. "I seeshe is just as careful of home expenses as though she knew it all, andI do not want to give her the added trouble until I see that I cannotfight my way through, and that it must be known. "

"Papa, isn't there some other way that I can help you?"

"My noble little girl, no, the load is already too heavy for your youngshoulders; but, I do so warmly appreciate your womanly interest, andyour desire to help is precious indeed, while you see how great a helpit is to me. "

Olive was smiling happily, even while her heart was filled with anxietyand many thoughts; so they sat there for some time in silence, thenthere came a tap on the door, and a sepulchral voice through thekeyhole:

"If you don't want the whole family to come swarming over the transom, you'd better come out and tell us what that tremendous secret is. Speakquick, a single word. "

"Shovels!" shouted Mr. Dering, implicitly obeying the threateningcommand. 

"Very good; you may live, providing you come out immediately and give mea dime to buy some butter-scotch, " returned the voice. 

"The request betrays the speaker, " laughed Mr. Dering as he stood up andunlocked the door. "Clear out, you begging Kat; you always----"

"Hurrah, " cried the beggar shrilly. "Can't tell us apart yet; there'sKat on the stairs; now, whenever we demand it, you have to give us adime a piece; fine, you know. "

"Yes; I know, you mercenary little monkeys; come in the sitting-room ifyou want to hear our secret. "

Kittie and Kat rushed promptly in, and Mr. Dering spoke, indicatingOlive by a wide flourish. 

"Ladies and gentlemen--I suppose I must represent the gentlemen:--Let meintroduce you to my future book-keeper and business confidante. "

Olive lifted her eyes, as he bowed again, and first saw her mother'sface so happy and pleased, then Ernestine's so full of something thatwas almost ridicule, and in an instant, without looking farther, her owndarkened, and withdrawing her hand, she walked over to her accustomedcorner, thinking bitterly, while they all commented and applauded. 

"There! now every one but mama, thinks I'm a fool, and they needn't besaying, 'how splendid' and 'oh! Olive, ' for didn't Ernestine look as ifshe wanted to laugh, and as if she would be ashamed of me if I worked, even in papa's store. But I don't care what any of them say or think, "and having turned bitterly against all the girls, merely because of theunconscious smile on Ernestine's astonished face, Olive crushed all thejoy from her own face, and nearly all from her heart. 

CHAPTER V. 

ONE DAY. 

"Well, surely there never was such a pokey family, " exclaimed Ernestine, lounging into the room where the girls were gathered, one bleak drearymorning, early in November. "Nothing ever happens, any more than as ifwe were in back-woods. Kittie, I'll change seats with you. "

"I suppose you will, " returned Kittie, keeping her chair and frowningover her slate and book. "You'll always change if you get the best byit; get out of my light will you. "

"I wish you'd shut the door, Ernestine, " growled Kat over the top of abandage bound round her head and face; "I wish your tooth was ready tojump out of your mouth, and some one would leave the door open on you. "

"I'd try and set you a good example, by being polite at least, " laughedErnestine, who really never could be cross or blue, very long at a time. "How grum we are; what's the matter Bea?"

"I've an awful headache, " answered Bea, who shared in the generaldepression, and was considerably ruffled over not being able to set apuff straight on her skirt. "Be quiet, please, and sit down; it wasstill enough before you came in. "

"So I should think, from the way you all look like tomb-stones. Nobodylooks peaceful, but Jean, and she's asleep; and Olive is the only onethat looks natural, because she always looks solemn and cross, no matterwhat's up. "

Olive turned from the window with a jerk. She had such a cold, that shecould not go down to the store, and her face was swollen mostunbecomingly. 

"Perhaps if you had a little more sense, you might be able to look atleast reasonably solemn sometimes, " she said sharply. 

"Oh, mercy, " cried Ernestine, with her gay laugh, far more tantalizingthan the sharpest words. "If having sense would make me look like you, I'd never want it, --never. "

Olive jumped from her seat with a force that knocked the chair over, andstartled the whole company. 

"Ernestine Dering, " she cried fiercely, and as though the words almostchoked her. "You are the most heartless, selfish, senseless creature, that ever lived; I never will forgive you! You haven't got a thoughtabove looking like a wax doll, and acting like a ninny, and I hateyou;--there!"

"Well--if--I--ever, " cried Kittie, as Olive vanished with a bang of thedoor that woke Jean and made Bea clap her hands to her aching head. 

"You ought to be ashamed, " exclaimed Kat, glaring over her bandage. "Olive's the best one of the lot, and I've three minds to go and tellher so. "

"And have your head taken off for your pains, " said Ernestine, walkingover to the glass, and smiling at her own unruffled image. "Olive's atouchy goose, but I didn't mean to hurt her feelings, and I'm sorry forit; so that's the best I can do now, isn't it?"

"I suppose so, unless it is to think once in a while, that there is someone in the world with feelings, besides yourself, " answered Bea, jerkingher unruly sewing, and getting crosser than ever as she ran her needleinto her finger. 

"Dear me, " cried Ernestine, throwing her hands up, and admiring them inthe glass. "It's a sure sign that something is going wrong with thisfamily, when you get cross, Bea. "

"I'm not an angel, " grumbled Bea, then threw her sewing down, and gaveherself a shake, both mentally and physically. "But there's no need ofmy acting like a bear, and I'm really ashamed. Come sit on my lap, Jean, you look terribly grieved. "

"Well, 'tisn't very pleasant with mama gone, and you all fussing so, "answered Jean, limping over with her crutch, and laying her head onBea's shoulder with a sigh. "If you all were lame awhile, you'd be soglad to get straight again, that you never would fuss or scold, never. "

Bea sucked her bruised thumb, and thought more heartily than ever, thatthey ought to be ashamed; but a little witch of impatience and petulancelurks in the gentlest of feminine hearts, and though Bea had resolved tohush talking, and be patient, the little meddling temper was wide awake, much aggravated at the gloomy weather, and bound to make mischief ifpossible. Ernestine turned away from the glass in a moment, and strolledover to the lounge. 

"I don't see, " she exclaimed, "why everything should be denied us. I'dlike to live for awhile just as I want to. "

No one answered, for just then Kittie threw down her slate, and burstinto impatient tears. 

"What's the use! I can't understand such fractions, and I never will;I'd like to smash that slate, and burn this old book!"

"Doesn't Miss Howard show you?"

"O yes, she shows and shows, and talks and explains, 'till my head spinslike a top; but I can't understand, and after a while she says, in sucha surprised way, as if she thought I was the biggest dummy in theworld--'Why, Kittie, don't you see it yet?' and I don't see it any morethan ink in the dark, but I'm ashamed, so I pretend that I do, andthat's the way it always is, " and Kittie cried despairingly. 

"How the cheerfulness increases, " laughed Ernestine, jumping up. "I'mgoing down stairs, and I sha'n't come up again until I can say somethingthat will please you all. By-by, " and away she went, nodding brightly. 

The morning wore slowly away. Jean, with a pain in her back, lay inBea's arms until she fell asleep again; then after laying her down, Beatrice went back to her sewing, made patient and penitent by contactwith that frail, peaceful little sister, and, after viewing herunmanageable puff determinedly for a few minutes, saw her mistake, andimmediately went to work and finished it with no trouble. Kat, aftermuch grumbling, finally brought her tooth to comparative submission, andwent to sleep, while Kittie fled from the field of fractions, and spenther morning in the swing, which hung in the shed. 

Just before dinner, the door-bell rang, and in a minute Ernestine cameflying up stairs. 

"There, " she cried, waving a tinted paper. "I've something to please youwith. Just listen:--'Mrs. Richards would be pleased to see Miss Dering, Miss Ernestine and Miss Olive for tea next Wednesday Eve!' I expectthey'll dance. Won't it be fun?"

"I don't see any use of your waking me up, I'm not invited;" exclaimedKat, sinking back on to her pillow, when she found that she was notincluded in the coming bliss. 

"I hope you didn't expect it, only a child, " said Ernestine, as Bea tookthe magic paper in great delight. 

"Child, indeed!" cried Kat. "I'm tall as you. "

"More's the pity, for you're only twelve, and as wild as a boy. "

"I don't care; I'm going if mama says so; can't I Bea?"

"Why no; Mrs. Richards didn't ask you. "

"What's the difference? She likes me just as well as she does you andwould be just as glad to see me. "

"Of course; but girls of twelve are never invited out in the evening, "expostulated Bea, re-reading the delightful invitation, for events wererare in Canfield, and then it was so nice to be called "Miss Dering. "

"I don't care, I think it's real mean!" and Kat vented her resentment bypunching her pillow into a helpless knot. 

"Go, call Olive, Ernestine, " continued Bea, all smiles and complacency;"and just say, by the way, that you're sorry you hurt her feelings; it'squite the proper thing to do, you know. "

"All right, " and Ernestine ran down the hall. 

"Oh, Olive! come with us; here's an invitation from Mrs. Richards. I'msorry I hurt your feelings; come on. "

"I don't care for anything that you said, and I've something to thinkabout besides invitations. Go away, will you?"

"Oh, certainly, " and having glibly uttered her penitent speech, Ernestinecared nothing about its reception, but hurried back to discuss theirdress with Beatrice. 

"But mama has not said that we can go, " said Bea, caressing the tintedpaper, as she interrupted an enthusiastic speech that was makingErnestine's eyes glow like diamonds. 

"But she will; why shouldn't she? Any how I'm going to believe that shewill, I will wear my silk and my new scarf, and borrow mama's laces forthe sleeves, and her white comb, and jewelry with the bracelets, if shewill loan them;--do you suppose she will?"

"No, I know she won't; she'll think it's too much dress for a younggirl. Wear flowers. "

"Nonsense! I won't. I want the jewelry. What will you wear?"

"My cashmere; it's all I've got, " and Bea sighed a little, for she didlove to look nice. "The sleeves are dreadfully worn, and the over-skirtisn't the latest; but it can't be made over again, and I can't afford tospend a cent. "

"Never mind, " said Ernestine, who could, and did readily advise what shedisliked to practice. "Brush it up good, put ink over the little hole inthe sleeve, and I'll loop the over-skirt so that it looks later instyle, and loan you my blue bows. "

"I suppose you will, " returned Bea petulantly, for the temper, thoughappeased, was still awake and alert. "You're quick enough to loan mewhat you don't want yourself, and to say for me to go in anold-fashioned dress, with the holes inked up, and no jewelry; when youwant silk and laces, and all the jewelry; you are generous. "

"Oh, well, you may have the--the things if she will loan them; don't getfussy, " said Ernestine, not a trifle abashed. "Who do you suppose willbe there?"

"Whoever she invites, I suppose, " answered Bea, still ruffled. 

"And I expect Dell will be dressed beautifully; oh, dear, how nice itwould be to be rich, " sighed Ernestine. 

"I don't think it's fair for some girls to have so much, and others tohave to scrimp and pinch, and then have nothing, " cried Bea, exaggerating her woes, as is usual, when one is determined to thinkone's self the worst abused of all mortals. "I wonder if Olive is going, and how she will dress. "

"Just like she always does, I suppose, in that old green, with a bigwhite collar, and her hair pulled straight back, and as smooth as adoor-knob, no ornaments, and look fierce enough to chew every body up. Ido wonder what Olive is good for anyhow, she isn't any comfort toanybody, " and, as Ernestine spoke, her eyes went slyly over to theglass, where her pretty attitude in Jean's chair, and the sunshine lyingwarm on her hair, were reflected. 

Usually, Bea would have taken up her sister's cause, and uttered someconclusive defence, but now she felt abused, and didn't care much whatwas said of anybody, so after a moment, Ernestine went on--

"I wish I knew the 'German, ' I'm going to ask Dell to teach me, she doesit beautifully. I think it is so hateful in Olive not to dance, itspoils a set for us, so that we can never dance quadrilles ourselves. "

"I suppose she has a right to do as she pleases, " answered Bea, revelling in the questionable luxury of being as cross as she could. "Idon't care whether mama lets us go or not, I haven't a thing to wear, and of course if I don't go, you can't. "

"Oh, but she will, I'll fix you so pretty, that you'll blush to look atyourself, and you know Mrs. Richards said last summer, that you lookedlike an angel in white, and you may have quillings off my bolt offooting to put in your basque, and around the pleatings;" and, withthese skilfully thrown in words, Ernestine ran off to look over herlittle collection of ribbons and laces, while Bea turned her eyes slowlyto the glass, just as her pretty sister had done a moment before, onlynot with such an air of perfect satisfaction. 

"How pretty Ernestine is, and even if she is selfish, she's always sowilling to loan things, that any one doesn't think that it's justbecause she doesn't happen to want them herself. I hope if Olive doesgo, she will fix up a little, " and with a sigh Bea turned away from herreflection, and after covering Jean with a shawl, went down to see ifdinner was not nearly ready. 

If they could have seen Olive, they would never needed to have asked ifshe was going. All the afternoon she walked slowly up and down her room, sometimes increasing her gait, as the thoughts crowded and doubled thedeep trouble in her face; and, in her mind was one thought that masteredevery other, and that often formed itself into words and crossed herlips in a whisper of shivering dread. 

"The sixty days are almost gone, and papa has not got the money! Whatwill he do? oh! what will he do?"

Being with him constantly in the store, Olive saw, what he struggled tohide from those at home, --the utter despair that was mastering a patienthope;--and she knew that as the days went so swiftly by, that to him, the end was growing more certain. Once she saw him eagerly tear open aletter, and after reading a few lines, drop his head on his hands, and, unconscious of her nearness, groan despairingly. It weighed on her mindterribly, and her great desire to be of help, faced by the fact of herperfect inability, made her almost desperate, at times. 

Beatrice spent the afternoon in fussing with her dress, and Ernestine inwatching for her mother, who was spending the day with a sick friend, soas she was still absent, when the tea-bell rang, the meal was rathergloomy; for the three older girls were busy with thoughts; Kat's toothstill ached, Kittie had caught cold, and their resentment at not beingincluded in the invitation, being mutual, they devoted themselvesexclusively to each other, and Jean dismayed at the unusual silence, ateher bread and milk with a pathetic air of loneliness, quite touching. 

"Ernestine, won't you sing just a little something, " she asked, as theywent into the sitting-room, where the fire burned low. "It's _so_lonesome without mama, when you're all so still. Seems to me everythinghas gone wrong all day, what's the matter?"

"Everybody's in the blues, it's in the air, " laughed Ernestine, sittingdown to the piano, and skimming the keys. "Sit down chickie, and I'llsing 'Three Fishers. '"

Jean curled in a chair, with a pleased smile, and Ernestine began theplaintive song, with the firelight flitting over her face, showing thatshe sang with more feeling than usual. 

 "For men must work, and women must weep, And the sooner 'tis over, the sooner to sleep. "

The door-bell rang just there, and made them jump, then Bea went to thedoor, for though quite dark, it was not seven yet. 

A man stood just outside, a stranger, and as Bea opened the door with nolight, but the fire from the sitting-room, he did not seem to know whatto say. 

"Is Mrs. Dering here, --that is, --is she home?"

"No, she is not, but will you come in, perhaps I will do, " answered Bea, peering beyond him, and starting, as she caught the outline of otherfigures on the steps. 

"I do not think you will, I, --in fact we, --" and there he paused, andlooked behind him, and a vague chilling alarm struck Bea, and made hervoice tremble as she asked--

"Is it anything so particular, any----, "

"Bad news, " he said, as she hesitated. "Yes Miss, --Dering, I presume, Ido bring bad news, your father----;"

Ernestine stood in the sitting-room door, and as the words were uttered, she saw Bea rush out, heard a faint scream, and a strange voice say, "catch her, she's falling;" then there came a tramp of feet across theporch, and four men crossed the hall, and came into the room with astrange burden; a rude litter, with a motionless figure on a mattress!Bea had fainted, for she had followed it, but as the men set theirburden down with pitying faces, there came a shrill scream and a fall, for Ernestine dropped to the floor, and Jean continued to scream withher face hid. The three girls from up stairs came flying down, Huldahran from the kitchen, and in the dire confusion, the strangers stood, not knowing what to do, or whom to address, for every one seemed to havelost self-possession in the overwhelming shock. So thought the gentlemanwho seemed to be leader, but at that minute a hand touched his arm, anda voice startlingly hushed, asked: "Is he _dead_?"

"He is, madam. "

A spasm of pain crossed her set-white face, as her lips opened slowly, and the next question came with a gasp of dread:

"By--by his own hand?"

"Oh, no, madam, no indeed, " cried the gentleman eagerly, glad to givethat relief. "He was on the train going down to the city, which waswrecked twenty miles this side of it. His death was instant andpainless, a blow on the left temple. "

"Thank God!"

She uttered it slowly, and almost below her breath, then lifted her eyesfrom the peaceful face so life-like in death, and looked around theroom. Ernestine lay moaning on the lounge, Kittie and Kat locked in eachothers arms crouched in the corner, tearless, because paralyzed withfright, Jean shook as with a spasm in Bea's lap, while Huldah stood bythe lounge, with her apron over her head; and the men stood hushed andabashed with their eyes down. 

"Take Jean out, " Olive said again in that strange still voice. "Huldahcarry Ernestine to her room, and Kittie, you and Kat go out to the stepsand watch for mama. "

How instantly they all obeyed her, as though recognizing one withauthority, and how curiously the gentleman scanned her stonily whiteface, so worn in this brief moment of suffering, and listened to herlast words with wonder. 

"Then you are not Mrs. Dering?"

"No!" Olive did not seem surprised at the question, but her eyes went tohis face slowly, and her lips began to twitch. "How will we ever tellher; oh! how will we?" she murmured, clasping her hands tightly; but thestranger heard the low words, and spoke hurriedly, with his eyes on thedead face. 

"If you are expecting her, some one had better go to prepare her, forthe shock might prove----"

Olive did not wait for more, but snatching a shawl from the chair, saying as she vanished:

"I will go, only stay 'till we come back. "

The moon was coming slowly through a bank of clouds, and the windsighing mournfully through the bare treetops, as she sped swiftly downthe path and through the gate, whose familiar slam sounded dreary anddull, though it hardly reached her, as she ran down the quiet street. 

In just a few minutes she saw another figure wearing a familiar shawl inthe moonlight. 

"Why, Olive, " cried Mrs. Dering. "Were you all worried about me. Mr. Dane wanted to walk home with me, but I told him I would stop at thestore for papa, and when I got there, the boy told me he had taken theafternoon train to the city; some sudden business I suppose. Why dear, how you have run!"

"Oh, mama!" it was Olive's only utterance, but it told its own story, for Mrs. Dering instantly grasped the hand held out to her and inquiredsharply:

"What is it, quick, --any trouble at home?"

"Yes, "--gaspingly. 

"What, --I heard them talking of an accident, --Oh! Olive!"

"Papa, " said Olive, growing calm as she saw her mother blanch andtremble in the pale light; but Mrs. Dering waited for no more; graspingOlive's hand still tighter, she broke into a swift run, that did notslacken, until the steps were reached, and the sobbing within reachedtheir ears; then Olive forcibly held her back an instant. 

"Oh, mama, --wait, --let me tell you, --"

"No, --he is dead, I know it;" and breaking from the detaining hold, Mrs. Dering ran in, and when Olive reached the door, she was kneeling besidethe litter, with one dead hand pressed to her hidden face. 

In a moment they knew that she was praying, and feeling in the presenceof something sacred, each man bent his head reverently, and covering herface, Olive too, tried to pray, and shed her first tears. 

CHAPTER VI. 

A STRANGER. 

On the day of the funeral, the sun came up and flashed over the greychill earth, with a spring-like warmth and radiance, and crept throughthe open windows with a broad glad smile, as though no sorrow darkenedthe home and hushed the merry voices. 

Many times in these three days of crushing sorrow, when heart and handseemed powerless to act, had Ernestine thought in a vague, wonderingway, of her words: "I wonder what Olive is good for, she is no comfortto any one. " Why, she herself, shivering and white, clung to her; Beawent to her; Mrs. Dering turned to them all for comfort, but to Olivefor help and advice; Huldah came to her for orders; callers with offersof flowers and help saw her, and all said when questioned; "ask Olive, she can tell you;" "where is Olive?" "Olive knows all about it, don'tdisturb mama;" and so for once, home without Olive, would have known itsgreatest need. 

On the evening of that last day, when all the sorrowful farewells wereover, and the grief stricken family had returned to their saddenedhome; there came a stranger into Canfield, and after inquiring the way, stalked briskly out to the Dering house. All the heavy foliage beinggone, Jean saw him coming through the gate, and turned from the window. 

"Some one is coming, Olive, " and Olive reached the door, just as thestranger gave a vain pull at the muffled bell. He was a strange, oddlooking old gentleman, erect as a picket, scrupulously dressed, andlooking at her with fierce grey eyes from under the bushiest lashes. 

"Is Mrs. Dering in?" he inquired with a tap of his cane. 

"Yes, sir, but----, "

"Well, that's all I want to know now, I'll ask the rest after I get in, "and emphasizing the words with another sharp tap of his cane, in hewalked. 

"But, sir, my mother cannot see you to-night, " said Olive, somewhatstartled, but speaking with decision, and still holding the door open. 

"Tut, tut, tut! I haven't come three hundred miles to be turned out intothe night. Come, come, young woman, lead the way to where there's a fireand light, then take this card to your mother, and if she won't see me, give me a good comfortable bed, and I'll wait 'till morning for her. "

Olive began to feel as though she had little to say in the matter, besides, he stamped his cane and looked at her so fiercely, that shethought he might be an escaped lunatic, and perhaps she had better humorhim. So she led the way into the sitting room, poked the fire till itglowed brightly, then the old gentleman sat down, but jerked his headaround quickly as the sound of Jean's retiring crutch fell on his ear. 

"Ha, hum; come here little girl;" and his voice sharp and rough, softened wonderfully; but Jean only lifted her tear-stained pale littleface, for an instant, then vanished; whereupon he pulled out a scarletsilk handkerchief, and blew his nose fiercely, then turned to Olive asif he expected to demolish her instantly with the card in his fingers. 

"Here girl, take that to your mother and be quick. "

Olive took it and unconsciously dropped her eyes to the name--

 "ROGER RIDLEY CONGREVE. "

Even the old gentleman started as she looked up, for pale as her facehad been before, it was positively ashy now, and her eyes glared at himlike a young lioness at bay. Somewhat amazed the old man rose andapproached her; but she started back, threw the card at his feet, cryingchokingly with a frantic gesture of her hands:

"Go away, go away, don't touch me, --oh, how I hate you!" and vanishedthrough the door as if she had been shot. 

"God bless my soul!" cried the astonished man, dropping into his chairand apostrophizing the fire with startled energy. "If I ever saw thelike, --where's my snuff-box, --I never did to be sure; streak ofinsanity, must be attended to; fine eyes, but ferocious young woman;hum, ha!--I'll sit here till somebody comes. "

A movement of several persons in the room above, would indicate that thefamily were gathered there; as indeed they were, sitting around mother, feeling nearer and dearer than ever in their mutual loss, each onedrying her eyes slowly, as she talked lovingly of the dead, trying tomake them feel as did she, that father was not lost, but just gone homea little sooner than they. Into this peaceful, loving group came Olive, with ashy lips, and excited eyes, and a few minutes later, the oldgentleman down stairs, arose from his waiting seat, as the door opened, and a lady came towards him. Just while she crossed the little distancelying between them, he scrutinized her, with almost savage intentness, and his survey ended in a slightly astonished, "humph, " as she pausedbefore him, and bent her head slightly, but with due respect for hisage. 

"Mr. Congreve. Will you be seated, sir?"

"Humph! Well, I suppose I will, " and down he sat, with more force thanwas necessary, perhaps, but then he was excited. 

"I'm too late for Robert's funeral, I hear, " he said, in a moment, asgruff and short as though she were to blame for the fact, and he wascome to deliver a verbal chastisement. 

"Yes, sir, a few hours. "

"Humph! His death was very sudden. "

"Very sudden indeed. "

"Humph!"

Very plainly, Mr. Congreve did not know exactly what to say next. Hehadn't expected this kind of a widow; his mind had pictured one inbushels of crape, with a drenched, woe-begone face, who would screamwhen she saw him, fall on his neck, in lieu of his purse, and gasp outdramatically: "Dear, dear Uncle Ridley, now all my troubles are over, "after which, he would have to pet her into quietude, when there wasnothing, next to walking out of the window in his sleep, that he dreadedmore than a crying woman; then he would have to kiss all the children, and so greatly did he object to such an osculatory performance, thatafter the act he looked as though he had made way with a quart of alum. Now, there was the pleasing, but slightly astonishing fact, that nobodywas going to want to kiss him, and this pale, sweet-faced woman, withher quiet eyes and determined mouth was Robert's widow, that he wouldhave to talk to; and it was very evident, that if he had anything tosay, she was waiting quietly to hear it. 

"You have quite a large family, --madam, " he said, hurriedly rushing into break a pause. 

"Yes, sir, six daughters. "

"Six! Bless my soul, --six girls, " and Mr. Congreve hastily took somesnuff to settle his nerves. "Astonishing, I declare. Pity they're notboys, --great pity. "

"I would not have it otherwise than it is, sir. "

"Humph! well, they're your burden, not mine, " said the old man, testily, and twisting uneasily in his chair. 

"A burden I am happy and grateful to bear, if burden it be, " answeredthe widow, calmly. "I am thankful they are all mine, my comforts andhelps at all times. "

"One of them is lame, is she?" and as he spoke, the old man's voicesoftened, as it had done when he called to Jean. 

"Yes, sir, my little one, lame from babyhood. "

Mr. Congreve resorted to his handkerchief again, and waved its scarletfolds back and forth in much agitation for a few seconds, then, as heput it back in its capacious pocket, and sniffed once or twice, as if indefiance to some internal commotion, Mrs. Dering remembered that he hadonce had a little lame girl, who died before reaching womanhood. 

He was regarding her intently, and now as she lifted her eyes, softenedwith this sudden remembrance, he bounced out of his chair, and set hiscane down sharply on the hearth. 

"Elizabeth Dering, you're not the woman I thought you were. You're notlike your father, and I'm glad of that. I came here to offer you help, because I know for a certainty that Robert was in trouble, and I seethat you are no more pleased to see me, than I was at the prospect ofseeing you. That I have been angry with my nephew for many years, youknow well enough, but there's no use denying that his sudden death hastouched me, and I want to do something for his family. To-night you arein no condition to talk, no more am I; so if you will show me my room Iwill go to it immediately. "

Mrs. Dering arose also, with relief plainly visible in her face, andafter finding that he had taken an early supper before leaving the city, excused herself to arrange for his comfort during the night. 

Several hours later, when the household had forgotten its grief inslumber, and nothing disturbed the stillness of the night, but anoccasional frog, and the lonesome sighing of the wind through the baretrees, two persons found it extremely difficult to sleep. In Mrs. Dering's room the fire lay in dying embers on the hearth, and in a lowchair before it, sat the pale mother and widow, with no need now to hideher grief, lest other hearts were made sad, for no one was near butJean, and she slept soundly, with sorrow lost in the oblivion of dreams. So feeling for the first time, the liberty of tears, that poor, achingheart broke its stern control, and burying her face, the sorrowing womanwept, praying, as the tears rolled down her cheeks, that they might notbe shed in bitterness or rebellion, and that her heart, through all itspain, might still feel and know, "what is, is best. " When the violenceof her grief had expended itself, and she could lift her face to viewcalmly her loss and new responsibilities, the unvoiced prayer of herheart was: "O God, help me; I cannot work alone; let me know what to do;help me to think and act aright, and strengthen my trembling faith, thatwhatever may come to me, I can say: 'God knows it is for the best. '"

Even as she prayed, help came to her, for Olive could not sleep, andfeeling assured that her mother was awake, had come noiselessly in, andnow stood by her. 

"Mama, I cannot sleep either; let me stay with you. "

"Olive, my child, it is past midnight. "

"I know, mama, " and as Olive spoke, she pushed a stool to her mother'sfeet, and sat down, for something in the voice assured her that she waswelcome. 

"Why couldn't you sleep, dear?"

"Thinking, " answered Olive, gravely. "And I wanted to talk to you, mama, when we could be quite alone. "

"Yes, dear. "

"Will you tell me about Mr. Congreve, please?"

No curiosity prompted the question; that her mother knew; so, lookingdown into the grave, thoughtful face, she lowered her voice, and began:

"Mr. Congreve took papa when he was left an orphan at eight years old, and raised him, expecting to make him his heir, as he is very wealthy. When Mr. Congreve and my father were boys they were great friends; butin early manhood, had a bitter quarrel that has never been forgiveneither side, and they have hated each other fiercely ever since. WhenMr. Congreve found that his nephew was in love with his enemy'sdaughter, he was furious with anger, and my father also objected to thematch, but not so bitterly and blind to reason, as his enemy. Yourfather was threatened, plead with, and sworn at; but while he remainedfirm to his intention of marrying me, he really loved his fiery uncle, and disliked to come out in open rebellion; but a final move of Mr. Congreve's was more than he could bear. He locked him up. Of course noman of age and reason could stand such an indignity as that, so, makinghis escape at night, he left without a word of any kind, and has neverseen his uncle but once since. A little while after we were married, wereceived a letter from him, very short and bitter, saying that he couldtread the path he had chosen unmolested; that we were no more to himthan strangers, and that his new will left his property entire, to acousin's child, Roger Ridley Congreve, his namesake. He says now, thatwhen he saw papa's death in the paper, that he was touched by it, andthat he has come to help us, though I don't see how he knows we needit. "

"I do, mama. "

"You, Olive?"

"Yes, mama. " Olive's fingers were interlaced nervously and her eyes wereflashing warmly as she lifted them from the low fire to her mother'sface. "I know all about it, mama. Do you remember the night I talkedwith papa in the study about two months ago?"

"Yes. "

"Well, he told me a great deal that night about his business, that henever told you, because he said he did not want to worry you with itunless he had to; he had a note of six thousand to meet in sixty days, and he was trying every way to raise it without touching your money inthe bank. He said if he could not pay it, the store would go, that thehome was ours, and must never go for his debts. Just a few days ago aletter came, and he snatched it so eagerly, that I knew it was veryimportant; it was very short, and when he finished reading it he laidhis head down and groaned. He didn't know I was near, and I did notspeak then, but that letter has haunted me ever since, and yesterdaywhen you thought I was asleep, I was down at the store, and I found itin his private drawer. O mama, it was from Mr. Congreve, and so shortand cruel, oh, so bitterly cruel, and I tore it all to shreds, and burntit, and never meant to tell you, at least, not for awhile. He refused toloan papa a cent, and said he didn't care if he lost both business andhome, and when I read it I believe I could almost have killed him. To-night when he came and gave me his card I threw it in his face, andtold him I _hated_ him!"

"Olive! Olive!"

"I did, I did, and I'm glad; I felt as if it would choke me to sleepwith him in the house to-night, and I never want to look at him again. Iwould rather work my fingers off than ever have you take one penny ofhis money, or let him help us in any way, " cried Olive, excitedly, almost forgetting the sleeping household in her energy. 

Mrs. Dering put her hand to her head, bewildered with the sudden news, and Olive saw, and comprehended the look of startled trouble that restedon her face. 

"We are very poor now, aren't we, mama?"

"Yes, child, yes; indeed I am quite bewildered, " exclaimed Mrs. Dering, anxiously. "Did you say sixty days, Olive?"

"Yes, mama, the time is out next Friday. "

"Is it possible? What shall we do!"

"Isn't letting it go, the only thing we can do?" asked Olive. 

"I suppose so, but really I can hardly think, it all seems so sudden, "and truly her sad, troubled face echoed her words. 

"I have been thinking about it so long, " said Olive, as though relievedto speak her thoughts. "The home is ours, and you have four thousand inthe bank. It seems to me a very little for seven people to live on, butwe are all strong and well, and can work. "

"Yes, all strong and well but Jean, " and Mrs. Dering's eyes wentwistfully to the little unconscious face resting on the pillow. "Shewill have to be so neglected in more ways than one, if home is broken upand every one's hands and work belonging to some one else. "

"Dear me, " cried Olive, reproachfully. "How could I forget her! There'ssomething more to think over, now. "

"But you must think no more to-night, dear, nor must I, or we will notbe fit for to-morrow's work and thought. Go to bed, and remember, Godwill not send us more than we can bear; we must only do the best we canand all that is left, He will provide a way for us. Good night, dear. "

Next morning after breakfast, Mr. Congreve stood pulling his gloves onand eyeing the six girls from under his fierce, bushy brows, and therewas something almost like amusement in the quizzical look as it sweptfrom one face to the other. 

Whatever he thought, he put it into no words, but caught up his cane, then stooped down over Jean, lying on the lounge, and whisperedsomething in her ear. It must have been something magical, indeed, forJean got up, took her shawl and crutch, and walked with him down to thegate, and there the astonished girls, who all rushed to the window, sawthem pause, and the old gentleman lifted Jean up on the post, put hershawl up over her head, and then began talking earnestly. 

"Did you ever!" cried Kittie, falling back at the amazing sight. "Ithought she was afraid of him!"

"She is the only one that he has looked at kindly, " said Bea, with someindications of resentment in her voice. "Was he always so fierce andqueer, mama?"

"Always, " answered Mrs. Dering, who was watching from another window. "He has a kind heart, but a most exceedingly violent temper, which heseems to have under no control. 

"If thwarted or vexed, he stops at nothing, but most always repents hisrash acts as soon as they are committed, and, sometimes, if the humor sostrikes him, there is nothing he will not do as reparation. "

Olive, understanding that this little explanation was especially forher, shut her lips tightly, whereupon Kate exclaimed, "You never lookedat him when you were introduced, Olive, and if you could have seen theway he frowned and glared at you, you would have shook all over. "

"I don't care how he looked, nor how much he frowned. I don't like him, and I wish he was back in Virginia. "

"If he isn't stingy as a miser, he'll give us something, and perhaps askus to visit him, " said Ernestine, who looked languid and pale fromexcessive and violent weeping, and really seemed to be the only one whowas not trying to be cheerful for the others' sake. 

[Illustration: THE OLD GENTLEMAN LIFTED JEAN UP ON THE POST. ]

"I should like to see where papa lived when he was a boy, but I wouldn'tcare to have Mr. Congreve there, " said Bea, who had that morning beganbeing more womanly than usual by relieving mama of coffee-urn duties. 

"He's gone!" exclaimed Kittie, from the window. "Now for the secret!What did he say, Jean?"

"I'm not to tell, " answered Jean, looking quite excited and rather pale, as she hurried in; then amazed them all again by hiding her face in Mrs. Dering's dress and bursting into tears. 

"What ever has he done?" cried Kat, bouncing excitedly out of her chair. "Was he cross?--or perhaps he pinched you or something. "

"No, he didn't, " said Jean, trembling but smiling through her tears. "Hewas very good and kind, and didn't look near so cross as he did in here. He said that a great many years ago he had a little girl just like me, and he kissed me, too. "

"Did I ever!" cried Kat, quite carried away by curiosity. "And is thatall that he said?"

"No, but I can't tell the rest, now, but he's going to bring me somecandy and I'll give you all some. "

Perhaps it was because Mrs. Dering turned her head away just then, finding control of her face impossible; or because Jean looked sopathetic, as she gave her little promise; at any rate, Ernestine brokeinto a quick sob, and the next moment they were all crying, while Kittiethrew herself on the lounge, and hid her face, as though she never caredto show it again, and Kat followed her example in the rocking-chair. 

For several minutes the sound of weeping filled the room, then Mrs. Dering wiped her eyes and tried to steady her voice. 

"Children, do you think it would make papa happy to see us all somiserable and wretched?"

Something in the voice hushed the sobs, and caught attention, exceptfrom Ernestine, who continued to cry wailingly. 

"If papa had gone to Europe, made a great fortune, and built a grand, beautiful home for us all to come to, would we all sit down and cryabout it, and say it wasn't right?"

Even Ernestine listened a little at this, and Kittie lifted her drenchedface to look in amaze at her mother. 

"I don't think we would, but that our happiness would hardly wait forthe time 'till we started to join him. Now, instead of going to anycountry to build us a home, he has gone home himself, to the beautifulglorious home that was waiting for him, and waits for us; and isn't itlovely to think how glad he'll be to see us when we come, and it maynot be long, either. I can almost imagine how happy he is to-night, andI should hate to feel that we made him sad by sitting here and crying, as though we regretted his perfect joy. We miss him sadly indeed, but itwill make our time of waiting seem shorter, if we busy ourselves indoing what we know he would have approved and enjoyed, had he stayedwith us. You, my girls, know how proud and fond he was of you; you knowjust which of your little faults grieved him, so work to overcome them, and try to become the noble, splendid women he always prayed you mightbe. As for me, I know how he always trusted me in raising our girls, andnow that he has gone home, and left it all to me, don't you suppose itis a duty made doubly precious? None of us can complain of idle hands, and so with busy hearts we can find no time to complain and weep. Nowlet's go to our morning work, and all be as happy and cheerful as youcan; just remember, God loves us so much that He has put some one who isdear to us all in our home above, so that we cannot forget it, even ifwe are tempted to do so. "

There was a general putting away of handkerchiefs, and many resolveswritten on the girlish faces, that were facing their first grief, andfound it hard to do so with a patient faith. As they all left the roomfor morning duties, Bea lingered behind the others, and throwing herarms about her mother, looked up with full eyes and a loving smile. "Mama, you are such a comfort; you talk about heaven and papa, as ifthey were just around the corner, and make me feel as if he knew, andwas interested in all that we did, just as much as ever. I know whatwill make him the happiest, and that is for us to be just like you, forhe did love and trust you so perfectly. "

CHAPTER VII. 

MR. CONGREVE SURPRISES HIMSELF AND EVERYBODY ELSE. 

When Mr. Congreve came back from his walk, which had been a very lengthyone, for he was much unsettled in mind, he came very slowly, and beganan uneasy soliloquy as he neared the house. 

"How I just hate to go back there, I do; seven women, --God bless mysoul! and I'll wager my best hat they're all crying like water-spouts, and haven't made my bed yet. I won't sit down in a room that isn'tcleaned up, and bless my soul, --where's my snuff box? I'd sit out doors, sooner than be in the room where they're all sniffling, with thecurtains pulled down, as if Robert's going into eternal bliss, was athing to turn yourself into a wailing dungeon over;" and, ending hismutterings with a revengeful snap of the gate, he stamped fiercely upthe walk, scattering the gravel right and left, and scaring a stray catalmost into fits, by the way he swung his cane at her. Something in thelooks of the house when he glanced up, brought him to a sudden standstill. The blinds were all open, with the sun shining warmly on theglass, one window was thrown up, and through it came the merry whistleof a bird, giving forth a musical defiance to the coming of winter, andwhen Mr. Congreve rather slowly opened the front door, there met him awarm, cheery odor, and, --yes, actually; some one laughed upstairs! Inthe sitting-room a jolly fire leaped and shone in the shining grate, thepiano stood open, the room was full of sunshine, and under Mr. Dering'slarge portrait, was a bracket, and there on it, a graceful little vasefilled with pansys and a tea-rose, from Jean's little window garden inthe dining-room. 

Mr. Congreve gave a surprised and emphatic "humph, " and tramped away tohis own room, which was in apple-pie order, then tramped back, withouthaving seen any one but Huldah flying around on the back porch. 

Presently Jean came through the hall, and seeing him sitting there andfrowning at the fire, as though trying to study out some new andastonishing puzzle, she stopped at the stairs to call, --"Mr. Congreve ishere, mama. "

"Humph! _Mr. Congreve_, if I ever, if I ever, " exclaimed that gentleman, with some energy, and whirling about in his seat. 

"Come here, Jeanie; here's your candy. "

It really was quite astonishing how his voice could change when he spoketo her, and how his face brightened when she came in without hesitationand received the package with a pleased, --"Thank you, sir. "

"Well, I declare, --quite right, to be sure; but don't you know who I am, and what my name is?"

"Yes, sir, you're my papa's uncle, and your name is Mr. Congreve, "answered Jean, just a little startled at being lifted on to his knee, and having his arm around her. 

"So I am, to be sure; quite true; but if I'm your papa's uncle, I'm yourgreat-uncle, and there isn't such an immense amount of difference; don'tyou suppose you had better call me Uncle Ridley, as he did?"

"Why, I don't know, perhaps I had. I'll ask mama, " answered Jean inearnest simplicity. 

"Well, you do that, and tell her if she's not busy, I'd like to talkwith her awhile. Do you remember what I said to you this morning?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Well, I'm going to talk to her about it now. "

Jean slipped down in a hurry, and departed with her big bundle of candy, looking both pleased and frightened. 

Mrs. Dering came down in a moment, and not having entirely given up hisimaginary widow, Mr. Congreve looked up in some trepidation to see ifshe was crying. But no; her face, though pale and sad, was perfectlytranquil, and her dress was cozy, comfortable brown. 

After a few remarks about his walk, and the attractions of Canfield, conversation sank into an uneasy pause, and for some unknown reason, Mr. Congreve grew as red as a lobster. He had expected when he came that allhe would have to do would be to fill out a check for several thousand, assure the demonstrative widow that she should never want, graciouslyallow the children to call him Uncle Ridley, submit to be kissed atcoming and going, then get out of the way, and confine his furtheracquaintance with them to the medium of occasional checks and a fewletters, when, --well, did you ever!--here he sat, blushing like themost bashful lover in Christendom, and couldn't get up his courage tooffer the widow help of any kind; had actually requested the youngestchild to kiss, and call him Uncle Ridley, and was now entertaining anidea, which, had it been broached to him before leaving home, would havearoused his fiercest ridicule and amaze. 

"You know, perhaps, " he began, with a preparatory and strengtheningsniff of snuff, "that I heard from Robert, some days ago?"

"Yes, sir, but I did not know it until last night. "

"Humph!" he remembered his first greeting, and looked at her sharply. "Perhaps you did not know until then, just how his affairs stood?"

"No, sir, I did not. Our daughter Olive was her father's book-keeper andconfidante; she knew all; but with his ever thoughtful consideration, hehoped to settle his business difficulty without worrying me, and I didnot know until after I left you last night, how deep had been histrouble. "

"Olive, --hum, ha!" said Mr. Congreve, nodding decidedly, and reallylooking pleased. "She's the one that said she hated me last night; good!I'll wager my hat she saw my letter; I like her spunk; she's a thoroughCongreve. Your oldest, I suppose?"

"Oh no, she's quite a child in years, not yet sixteen. "

"God bless my soul! you don't say so; only fifteen, and a book-keeper, and shares her father's troubles, and flies like a tiger into a man'sface who don't do to suit her!--hum!

"I should like to see her again. I should, indeed. "

Mrs. Dering could not restrain a smile at the utter amazement depictedin his face. He looked like a man who was undergoing a constantshower-bath, and didn't know what to make of it. 

"I am very sorry, " she said. "It grieves me that Olive has anexceedingly peculiar and unforgiving disposition. She was devoted to herfather, and you are quite correct in your supposition that she saw yourletter. "

"And consequently don't want to see any more of me, " said Mr. Congreve, with a quick nod, and as Mrs. Dering made no denial, he got up, andseizing his cane, began to walk up and down the room, and Mrs. Deringwatching his face, saw therein a struggle of some kind. In truth, he wasturning over in his mind a confession, which his obstinate pridestruggled against, but which a new, strange feeling, that told him hedid not want this family's contempt and hatred, claimed and conquered. He stopped in his restless walk, and faced her suddenly. 

"I have been angry with my nephew for years, you know that, and you knowmy nature, " he said sharply, all the more so to hide his feelings. "WhenI wrote that letter I meant every word of it, and as many more of thesame kind, but some womanish weakness afterwards possessed me, and onthe day that I heard of his death, I had a letter written to him, containing the check for six thousand. "

Knowing him, as she did, Mrs. Dering well understood the feelingsattendant upon this confession, and her face softened wonderfully as shesaid:

"I most regret, Mr. Congreve, that Robert did not live to know that yourepented the cruel words that so grieved him. You know how proud andsensitive he was, and what a struggle it must have been to ask help ofyou. Your kindness, though too late, we all appreciate sincerely. "

"Too late? The time is not out. "

"But I shall let the store go. I have no sons, and I cannot have thecare of it on my mind. "

"Humph! May I ask what you intend to do?"

"Certainly. I have some money, four thousand in the bank, which willonly be taken out in great necessity. As soon as possible, myself andchildren will begin to work. I am quite sure that I can secure asituation in the seminary three miles out of town, perhaps one also forBeatrice, my oldest daughter, and I hope before long to find somethingfor the others. "

Mr. Congreve opened his lips to speak, but was amazed beyond allcomprehension, to find that he had no voice, he tried it again, thenagain, then broke abruptly into a hurried walk up and down the room, andflourished his scarlet handkerchief furiously. 

"It was very kind of you to undertake such a long tiresome journey forour sakes, Mr. Congreve, " said Mrs. Dering, beginning to feel a strangesympathy for the old gentleman who could not hide how deeply he wasmoved. 

"Not half what I ought to do, " sputtered the inconsistent old man. "Ialways want to help where I see it is so worthy. I am proud indeed, tosee, --where's my snuff-box--that Robert's wife and daughters are soworthy of him; I--I--will you allow me to settle four thousand per annumon you and your children?"

"Oh, no; thank you so gratefully; but I could not, so long as we arewell; we can work and live quite comfortably, but if I am ever introuble, if sickness drains our savings low, I will come to you gladly, and Robert will be so pleased. "

It was no use to try and hide a sniff, so Mr. Congreve made a savagethrust at his eyes and wiped them both, blew his nose long andearnestly, coughed several times without any apparent necessity, andthen subsided into a chair. 

"I suppose you are right, Elizabeth Dering, and I like you better forit, though, --God bless my soul!--to think of you and the little girlsworking for bread and butter, while I count my hundreds of thousands andlay up in ease and laziness. Why, it makes me feel as I never supposed Icould feel over any sorrow or privation that might come to DanielLathrop's daughter. But you're not like your father, no, you're not, andI'm glad of it, and if I had it to do over again, I would not banishRobert for marrying you. "

If Mrs. Dering felt any resentment at the thrust against her father, shegave no evidence of it, but only thought with a quiet joy, mingled witha little longing, "If Robert was only here to hear him say it. "

"I want to make another offer to you, " said Mr. Congreve, tapping hisstick lightly on the floor, and keeping his eyes averted, "and before Imake it, I want to ask that you do not decide too quick. Take all thetime you want, and whatever your decision will be, it will affect myhappiness quite as much as it does yours. "

He stopped there, and looked at her closely, as though contemplating apossible refusal; then went on interrogatively:

"You are going to work at something that will take all of your time, and, perhaps, keep you away from home; your daughters are going to work, such of them as are able, but, from my observation, there are three ofthem who can do nothing in a business line. Two of them, the twins, arestrong and healthy and can look after themselves, but the third, Jean, what will you do with her?"

"You have touched the point that constitutes my greatest worry andperplexity, " answered Mrs. Dering, quite unconscious of the thoughts inhis mind. "Jean is so delicate and frail that she requires constantattention; she is a child, and must be amused, and because of heraffliction she can never be unattended. I have always taught her, andbeing fond of her books, she is much farther advanced than most childrenof her age, and I regret beyond all expression that she will have tofall behind now, she----"

"No, she won't, " cried Mr. Congreve, who had been growing more excitedas the speech progressed, and who now jumped out of his chair with everyindication of breaking into a jig. "I assure you she won't, only let mehave her; she shall have the best governess and attendant that money canbring. Every luxury and comfort that can be thought of, every wishgratified as soon as expressed and I--I--"

He was obliged to stop to get his breath, and grow a little more quiet, for Mrs. Dering was leaning back in her chair, quite white with amazeand contending emotions; so Mr. Congreve settled abruptly into a chairand smoothed his voice and manner down several degrees. 

"I didn't mean to startle you, " he continued. "I know it is sudden and, indeed, I am quite as astonished as you are; I am, indeed; but themoment I looked at the child last night, there was something in her faceand manner, that reminded me so strongly of my own little Mabel, that myheart, old and dried up as it is, went right out to her. You know, Elizabeth Dering, how I loved my child. She would have been a woman nowhad she lived, but the Lord saw fit to take her, and--and--I--where's mysnuff-box?--I suppose, of course, 'twas best; but here's your littleone, yours and Robert's, afflicted like my little Mabel, and I am ableto do everything by her that the sick and afflicted need. She shalltravel, have the best of medical attention, and if the dear good Lordsees fit, perhaps she may be cured. "

His fierce gray eyes were completely softened and full of tears, and theway that scarlet handkerchief flew about would have puzzled the closestwatcher, but Mrs. Dering saw nothing, heard nothing but his lastwords:--"perhaps she may be cured. " Almost unconsciously she stood upand held out her hands. 

"Oh, Mr. Congreve, do you mean it, indeed?"

"God bless my soul! mean it? Yes, I do, indeed. I do, with all my heart. I'll feel like there was something for me to live longer for, and itwill put new, strong life into my dried-up old being, to see a child'ssunny face around my quiet home and to know that it is for her good thatI live. Ha! mean it? Yes, my dear madam; I should rather say I did meanit. "

It really seemed as though Mrs. Dering could not speak for the manyemotions that oppressed her, but after one or two glances at her face, which caused the old gentleman to scout at the idea of her refusing, heexclaimed with a fatherly benignity which sat oddly on his crustyabruptness:

"There, there, dear child, go right off up stairs and think about it. I'll just take a snooze right here by the fire, and then after awhilewe'll talk again. I don't think the little girl will object. I said afew words to her this morning, and the idea pleased her, I am quitesure. "

So Mrs. Dering retired after a few inarticulate words of thanks or joy, and after taking a tremendous tiff of snuff with such haste that itnearly strangled him, Mr. Congreve settled into a comfortable, dreamystate, where a face, long since gone from his home, looked out at himfrom the fire with a smile, and then beside it came another, sweet andpatient, with soft eyes, and the two seemed to know each other, and asthey smiled, the one that was now an angel faded slowly and left theother there looking at him with beseeching eyes. 

There was the greatest commotion up stairs when Mrs. Dering told theassembled girls of Mr. Congreve's proposition. Jean instantly hid herface and began to cry, and influenced by this, the girls instantlypounced upon Mr. Congreve, and declared it should not be. 

"Why do you cry, dearie?" asked Mrs. Dering. 

"I don't know, " answered Jean, somewhat bewildered, as she looked aroundon the indignant faces. "Because it seems so queer, I guess. I alwaysthought I would be crooked, and have to go on a crutch, and UncleRidley, --he asked me to call him that, --says, perhaps, all the doctorscan cure me, and--and it seems so good that I don't know how to be gladenough, so I just cry, you see. "

Everybody "saw, " figuratively speaking, for actual sight was quiteimpossible with the quick sympathetic tears that sprang to every one'seyes. Opinions flew about like papers in the wind, and Mrs. Dering couldnot make herself heard in the babel of tongues. 

"Wait, girls, listen a moment, " she exclaimed at last, and thecommotion quieted, somewhat, to hear what she had to say. 

"You know, " she began, drawing Jean to her side, "I have been tellingyou this morning how very differently we would have to live, now; itwill take all of us, working hard, to keep home comfortable, for theexpenses of a family of such size are very heavy. Since realizing this, I have prayed long and earnestly to know what was best to do aboutJeanie, for if I can secure the position at the seminary, I can onlycome home twice a week, and in the meantime, I could not bear the worryof her being here alone with you girls, even though I know you would befaithful and careful of the trust. Now comes Mr. Congreve's offer, withthe promise that she shall have every attention, care and luxury, andbetter than all, that she shall see eminent and skillful physicians, whom we could never afford. I feel as though it was God's answer to myprayer, and that it is wicked to hesitate a moment, however much we alllove our little girl, and hate to have her go so far away. "

"But, oh, mama, " cried Jean, with a sob of ecstatic joy and excitement, "just to think of my being straight and well, like Kittie and the rest!I would feel like I never could thank God and Uncle Ridley enough. Oh, I_may_ go, mayn't I?"

"Yes, darling, you shall go. "

So briefly was it settled. 

Everybody was in raptures excepting Olive. She frowned severely, andlooked bitterly pained, but she said nothing until the rest had left theroom, then she came to Mrs. Dering's side. "Oh, mama, are you reallygoing to let her go?"

"Yes, dear. "

"How can you? Such a cruel, selfish, unfeeling--"

"Hush, Olive. "

Olive did so instantly, and stood with her hands folded and eyes down, the very picture of bitter defiant distrust, and Mrs. Dering saw in aninstant that any thing she might say in Mr. Congreve's behalf, would bewasted words, as Olive was fully prepared to misconstrue anything thatthe old gentleman might say or do. Nevertheless, she laid her hands onthose tightly folded ones, and said gently: "Olive dear, we must becharitable and forgiving. Remember, Mr. Congreve is old and verypeculiar; he always was, and one's peculiarities increase as they growolder. You heard what I said about him this morning, and you see he mustbe kind at heart, to have taken such a long journey, just for oursakes. "

Olive made no answer, and her mother sighed a little. 

"In regard to the estrangement between him and papa, I think he went toextremes, as hot passionate tempered people are apt to do; and yet, heis not wholly at fault, for I grieve very much to say, that in thequarrel between my father and Mr. Congreve, father was much to blame;he did very wrong, and it was quite natural for Mr. Congreve to feel aviolent hatred for all his family, and to object to his nephew marryinginto it. That Mr. Congreve has many times repented his harsh treatment, I know to a certainty; but he is proud, as well as hasty, and pride inan old man is harder to battle with than in a young one. In speaking ofpapa a few minutes ago down stairs, he could not restrain the tears. Hesays he wrote that letter, and meant it, but that on the day he heard ofpapa's death, he had another letter, and the required check ready tosend to him. "

"I don't believe it!" interrupted Olive passionately. "If he did, hewrote it after he heard, just so as to tell you so. "

"Oh, my child!" exclaimed Mrs. Dering, sadly, "how your hasty, distrustful spirit grieves me. You cannot conceive of the misery it willcause you, when you are brought to face the world, where there is somuch to distrust, and so much that must be overlooked and blindlybelieved in. Can't you allow for others, some of the pride, the wilfultemper and bitter hastiness that you know so well what it is to battleagainst, when I tell you that the greatest point of difference betweenyour own and your great-uncle's disposition, is, that he is as hasty oneway as you are the other; can't you be more charitable to him?"

"Oh, mama! _I_, like _him_?" cried Olive. 

"Yes, dear, except that when you are once angry or hurt, you nurse yourpride, and repel every advance towards a reconciliation. Mr. Congreve ismore generous; if he really sees he is wrong, he is as impulsive to mendas he was passionate to break. He is bitter and distrustful from a longand often sad and disappointed struggle with the world; you are bitterand distrustful--for what, my dear child, I never could imagine, for weall love you most tenderly, and in this grief and trouble which God hassent for some good reason, you have been an inexpressible comfort to usall. "

Olive withdrew her hand from her mother's clasp, and hurried awaywithout a word. Mrs. Dering thought she was hurt, perhaps angry, andsighed deeply; but Olive had gone to hide her tears, and resolve to dodifferently, but all her resolves were made without asking for higherstrength and help. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

ODDS AND ENDS. 

"My patience alive!" exclaimed Kittie, slamming the stove door open, andpoking in among the ashes and cinders with wrathful haste, "if thisabominable fire hasn't gone out; I never did in all my life! burnt up abushel of kindling, too, dear me; water in the tea-kettle stone cold, not a blessed thing cooking; no more stuff in here to start the fire up, and Olive waiting for her breakfast this minute to go to the store, good_gracious_!" and having freed her mind, Kittie ran to the back stairs, jerked the door open, and shouted with much unseemly energy, --"KathleenDering!"

"Just so; don't strain your lungs that much again, I'm coming, clear thetrack, " responded Kat cheerfully, and came clattering down with hershoes unlaced, and her nose as red as a beet. 

"Bless the people, but isn't it cold, though. Whew! Jupiter Ammons! Whata relief it is to say something when you're most friz. You don't lookcheerful, sister mine. "

"I don't care; it's your week to build the fire and mine to set thetable, and I think you were real mean, to go to sleep again, when youknow Olive has to have her breakfast at seven, " grumbled Kittie, flyingabout distractedly, while Kat sat on the floor and whistled "Down in acoal-mine, " as she laced her shoes. 

"That's the truth, my dear, melancholy like the present days. But youjust skip into the dining-room and set your table, and I'll have a fewwords to say to this stove in private, if I don't freeze stiffbeforehand;" and Kat jumped up briskly, having compromised on a lacewith one shoe, by tying the strings about her ankle. "No kindling tobegin with! Oh, this is bliss! Now for a trot to the woodshed, " and awaywent Kat flying down the yard and back again in a minute with her armsfull. 

"I'll be late, " said Olive, putting her head in the door, just as thefire began to snap with its new supply of kindling. 

"Sorry, but doing the best I can, " answered Kat, pausing a minute towarm her numb fingers. "Can you get along on bread and coffee for thismorning?"

"I suppose I'll have to, " answered Olive, none too graciously, and shutthe door again with a snap. 

"Cross-patch, draw the latch, sit at the fire and spin, " sang Kat; thenthe door opened again, and Ernestine came in. 

"Dear me, how cold it is in here, and Bea hasn't got the sitting-roomfire built either. I'd just as soon be out doors. "

"Go on, and let's see how long you'll stay, " said Kat, shaking an egginto her coffee. "If the fires don't get along fast enough to suit you, pitch in and build one of them; there's piles of difference between thatand standing around watching some one else. "

Ernestine chose to ignore the remark, and stood warming her fingers, while she contemplated the frosty window-pane. 

"To-day's lesson-day, so of course I hate it, " she said, with an air ofsettled resignation. "I never thought I'd teach music, that's sure. Inever was cut out for it, so neither the children, nor I, get alongwell. Is there anything I can do to help out here?"

"No, breakfast is ready; just trot the bread in to the table. I'll bringthe butter, and the coffee will be done in a few minutes; that's allwe've got for breakfast this morning, " said Kat, vanishing down thecellar stairs. 

"I could eat two hundred and fifty griddle cakes, I know!" exclaimedKittie, as they collected about the table, and Bea began rattling thecups, and the bread started around. 

"Come down a hundred and seventy-five, " laughed Ernestine who had takentime, despite all depressing circumstances, to twist a rose-coloredribbon in her sunny hair. "I believe it's going to snow real hard; don'tI wish those children wouldn't come to-day. You all can't imagine howhorrible it is to teach music. "

"Well, you have the easiest time of any of us, " said Kittie. 

"You ought to cook and wash dishes awhile, " cried Kat. 

"Or keep the house, " added Bea. 

"Or have to stay all day long in the dreariest store in town and keepbooks, " echoed Olive. 

"I thought you loved to work so?" said Ernestine, in answer to this lastcomparison. "You're always preaching independence. "

"So I do, " answered Olive, setting her cup down with crackable force. "Inever would be idle, but I could choose more pleasant kind of work thansitting in Mr. Dane's office all day; it's the dreariest place I evergot into. "

"Well, anyhow, Christmas is coming, " said Bea, nodding cheerfully overthe coffee-urn. 

"More's the pity, " said Kittie disconsolately. "We're not going to getanything; it'll be awful poky. "

"But mama'll be home for ten days; oh, bliss!" cried Kat, waving herteaspoon, and every cloudy face brightened. "Can't we give hersomething, girls?"

"I don't see how, " said Ernestine. "It takes every cent we all earn tokeep things going. Who ever thought we'd be so poor? Just think of lastChristmas, how glorious!"

Everybody remembered, and faces saddened again. How gay the house hadbeen in evergreens! how mysterious the locked parlors, where all knew, atree stood, branching up to the ceiling; how blissfully happy everybodyhad been during the two weeks when the world becomes one in spirit andtruth, and the god of good-will wields the sceptre and wears the crown!Father had been with them, dear, unselfish, great-hearted papa, whoseevery exertion had been to make them all happy and whose dearest hopeand prayer had been that his girls might be noble, splendid women, withpure, true hearts and the spirit of God therein. 

"Olive, will you bring some butter when you come home? This is the lastdrop, " said Kittie, scraping the dish, and collecting the silver, afterthe meal was finished, as it was very soon, for breakfasts were hurriednow-a-days. 

"Yes; two pounds? That's the third time this month; our bill will bepretty big. If I'm very busy I will not be home to dinner. "

"Sha'n't I fix some lunch for you?"

"I haven't time to wait. Where's my rubbers?"

"I don't know. Kat, did you have Olive's rubbers last night?"

"Yes, and I don't know any more than Adam where I put them. Look in thecloset, Olive, and I'll run up stairs and see, " answered Kat, departingin haste. 

"Well, I wish you would let my things alone, " said Olive testily, throwing down her mittens and veil, and diving into the closet; thegeneral closet, as it was called, where everything, from the kitchenstove-hook to the girls best Sunday-go-to-meeting bonnets, were apt tofind a lodging at odd times. "I never can be on time, " she muttered, slamming things around and comparing various odd rubbers. "This closetlooks like a demented bedlam. I'd be ashamed, that's what I would. "

"I can't do everything, " answered Bea in a hurry, feeling that thethrust was meant for her. "Because I'm housekeeper, it doesn't rest onme to keep everything in perfect order, when you all help to muss up. "

"It's like distraction without mama, anyhow, " declared Kittie, departingfor the kitchen, with her hands full of dishes, and scowling defiantlyat the stove, where the fire was sizzling with a lazy sputter, while thedish-water taking advantage of the lull in heat, cooled at leisure. 

"Pretty near as bad without Huldah, " was Ernestine's comment. "I'mnearly starved for a splendid good meal like we used to have, when wecould eat all we wanted, and didn't have to think how much it cost, orworry with cooking it. "

"You do less than anybody towards getting it, " said Olive, comingflushed and impatient from her vain search. "If Kat doesn't leave mythings alone, I'll--"

"Let not your angry passions rise, " cried Kat, coming in with a rubberwhirling on each hand, and quoting her copy-book with cheerful disregardfor any one's anger. "Here's your rubbers, my dear, and I found themright where I put them, on the end of our mantel-piece, where I put themin plain sight so as not to forget to bring them down this morning, asmy prophetic soul felt a row in the air if they were not in sight at sixand a half, sharp. "

"You talk like a lunatic, " was Olive's sole response as she drew themon. 

"It's my only talent, dear, " answered Kat cheerfully, beginning to workon the table, where she made the dishes rattle. 

Bea trailed slowly through the room with her broom and dust pan, and arather discontented face. Olive tied on her veil and hurried away to herdaily business; Ernestine went to practice a new piece 'till the firstscholar should arrive; and Kittie and Kat were left to the bliss ofdish-washing and kitchen work. So began the day. 

This was several weeks after events last recorded, and all things in theDering household had changed much. 

Jean had not gone to Virginia at once. Her wardrobe had needed completerepairing, and during the time so occupied, Mr. Congreve spent much ofit in the city, sending therefrom various and beautiful things for Jean, and a dress for each of the girls, doing so without permission, knowing, that if asked, it would be refused him. 

Kittie and Kat had been withdrawn from school, and studied at home withthe older girls. Their part of the work fell in the kitchen. With Mrs. Dering and Huldah for teachers, they had studied the easier branches ofcooking, and the crooks and by-ways of that department of general work. They proved apt and merry pupils, and learned their tasks quite readily, so, that while the girls missed the wonderful dishes that Huldah hadbeen able to "knock up, " they were daily fed on very palatable food, considering the age and newness of the young cooks. 

Bea was chief housekeeper, kept an eye over general affairs, sat at thehead of the table, and had commenced doing her hair in a most dignifiedway; filling with much girlish satisfaction, the position of "MissDering, " and "lady of the house. "

Olive was book-keeper in Mr. Dane's store, and really more head of thefamily than Bea, as she kept all accounts, settled the bills, and wasfrequently consulted on some questionable matters, involving the homeexpenses. To Ernestine fell the easy lot of four pupils in music. 

Affording her no opportunities of display, or avenue for compliments orpraise, she thought it very hard indeed, and found it bitterlyuncongenial, to her ideas of independence, if, indeed, she had everpossessed any really tangible ones. She wanted to help, as a matter ofcourse, especially as all the rest did; but such an ordinary, self-denying way was sadly distasteful to her, and she still had avague, but pleasing, idea of becoming a great prima-donna andelectrifying vast concourses of people, who would praise, admire, andpay her largely. Unfortunately, however, such positions do not liearound in wait, and invite some one to honor them with an acceptance;but, in spite of such a discouraging fact, Ernestine held tenaciously toher pleasing idea, and spent much time in thinking how delightful allthings would be, when that time arrived. 

Mrs. Dering had secured the desired position in the seminary, threemiles out of Canfield, and had a flourishing class in both music andlanguages. The stage came in twice a week after mail, and at these timesthe anxious mother made hurried trips home, and these few hours weresnatches of greatest joy and comfort to all parties, and especiallycomforting to the girls, who found the first few weeks of the new lifevery trying, and oftentimes discouraging. 

On the next Tuesday evening, when the stage came in, Mrs. Dering found athick, tempting letter, with the Staunton post mark, and Jean's prim, childish hand writing. There had come several short letters from thelittle girl, who said she would wait until she saw everything about hernew home before writing a very long letter to describe it; so it wasevident now that the long letter had come, and with this extra joy forherself and the girls, Mrs. Dering hurried home, where everything wasradiantly bright for her reception, and where the girls looked and feltas though care had rolled from them for the time, or was at least solightened, that it seemed quite gone. 

They did not read the letter until after supper, and on the eveningswhen mother was with them, this meal was always a long one, for therewas so much to talk about, and somehow it seemed so natural and old-timelike, to linger about the table, that they invariably did so. 

After awhile they went into the sitting-room, leaving the dishes untillater, when mama said they would all help; and seating themselves, withmany smiles and nods of satisfaction, about the fire, prepared to hearall that Jean had to say about her new home. 

 _Congreve Hall, Staunton, Virginia, November, 29th, 18--. _

 "DEAR PRECIOUS MAMA AND SISTERS:

 "I promised to write you a long letter, and tell you all about Congreve Hall, as soon as I had seen everything about it, and felt well enough acquainted to tell it well. It is so beautiful and big that I hardly know how to begin; I do wish the girls could see it, especially Ernestine; she likes splendid, grand things so much. 

 "We came out of Staunton, which is a lovely city, in a beautiful carriage, which was waiting for us at the train. It was a lovely day, and the sunshine was so warm that Uncle Ridley had the top all put back, so that I could see everything. The road was so wide and very smooth that the carriage just rolled along like we were on a floor, and the horses were such splendid big black ones, with harness all covered with shiny things, and they acted as if they were as proud as could be. The driver was dressed beautifully, nicer than the gentlemen dress at home for every day, and when I got into the carriage he lifted his tall hat, and called me 'Miss Dering. ' It sounded so funny I pretty nearly laughed; but Uncle Ridley looked as if it was all right, so I thought perhaps I had better not. 

 "Pretty soon we began to go up hill, and I thought we must have come very far because the horses went so fast; but we had only come half-way. The leaves had not fallen then, and the mountains reaching up so high, way ahead of us, did look like some beautiful pictures that we used to see when papa took us to the city with him. After awhile we came to a big gate, oh, so tall, and such high posts, with figures on top of them, holding big lamps with ever so many globes, and Uncle Ridley says some night, he will light them, so I can see how bright it makes it all around, and way down the road. We went through, and then the road began to wind around, and it was perfectly lovely; we went up and up, under the grandest trees, and after a little ways, there began to be statuary sitting around under them, and beautiful seats made like the limbs of trees, all twisted together. I saw a flight of stone steps, and they came up the hill from another gate, for people that walk, and they look as white as snow in the green grass. All of a sudden we turned around a big curve, and I just screamed right out; I was so surprised, and Uncle Ridley said that was Congreve Hall. Why, mama, it is big enough to be a hotel in the city, and ever so many people could go in the front door all at once, it is so wide, and such lovely marble steps go up to it. There are two big towers, and two funny little squatty ones, with a big stone railing around the top, and there are porches, terraces Uncle Ridley says they call them, all of stone. They go pretty near around the house, and then end in steps, broad ones, that make a big curve and come down to the ground. I think that's a mighty funny way to build them. The house is such a pretty grey color, and some places there is moss growing all over the sides, and there are ever so many vines too, that Uncle Ridley says would hold me up, they are so old and strong. Inside everything is so big and grand and dark, that I was afraid at first, and never went around anywhere unless uncle went with me; but I'm getting more used to it now, and like to hunt around, in the big rooms, and walk around in the splendid halls. My rooms, I have four you know, are all furnished so sweet in blue and white, with the dearest little easy chairs and sofas, and the cunningest little bed, with an angel on top holding the pretty curtains that come down all around. I just thought at first that I would want to stay in bed all the time. My maid has a little room just off my bath room, and she is such a funny girl. She combs my hair and dresses me, and all that, and talks all the time just like a monkey. Her name is Bettine, and she always calls me Miss Jean. My governess, Miss Serle, is such a dear, kind lady, and I'm going to study awful hard, so as to know lots and make you happy, dear mama, when I come home. Uncle Ridley is just the dearest, nicest, kindest uncle that ever lived, I'm sure. He is so good to me, and I love him like everything. Sometimes he tells me about Mabel, and then he takes out his big red handkerchief and cries; and I'm almost glad I'm lame so I can look like her, and make him happier. Mabel Congreve must have been a very sweet little girl, and very pretty; there are pictures of her all over the house, but the one in the library is the prettiest. She is all dressed in white, with such lovely yellow curls, and sitting in the very little blue velvet chair that I ride around in now. Uncle Ridley always sits in there, and I do believe he talks to her. I have all of her things, except her pony; he died, and mine is a new white one; such a darling, and I go to ride every pleasant day in her little buggy, with beautiful soft cushions and silk curtains. Her chair is on wheels, and I can ride all over the house by myself, or have Bettine draw me, whichever I want. All of her things are just as nice as new, because Uncle Ridley has been so careful of them. Yesterday he brought me her crutch, and said he wanted me to use it. It is such a shiny, beautiful black wood, with a silver rim and pad on the bottom, so it don't make any noise, and a soft top covered with blue velvet. 

 "I always take my breakfast in my room, because Uncle Ridley does not get up until so late, and it would be very dreary in the big dining-room for me. After breakfast I take a ride either in the house or out, then play awhile, or do as I please until ten; then Miss Serle comes to my room, and my lessons last until twelve. Dinner is gloomy. There is a servant stands behind Uncle Ridley, and he is so tall and solemn looking in his white vest and necktie, that I don't feel comfortable at all. After dinner I play or ride until two o'clock, then I have my lessons and my music 'till four, and after that Miss Serle almost always reads to me awhile. I practice from five o'clock for a half an hour, then play 'till eight o'clock, and that is time for me to go to bed. Some days Uncle Ridley takes me into Staunton with him. 

 "I believe I have told you everything now that you asked me about, and I've tried hard to write a nice letter, because you were always so particular about it, I've looked in the dictionary for all the words I wasn't sure of, and I hope you will not find many mistakes. Do please, dear mama and girls, write me long, long letters, because I get so lonesome and homesick for you all. Every night when I say my prayers and ask God to take care of you all, I can hardly keep from crying, and sometimes I do, and then Bettine looks so sorry and most like she wanted to cry too. 

 "The doctor that Uncle Ridley wants to have me see first, is very sick, you know I told you, but he is getting better, and perhaps I will not have to wait so long. Oh, my dear mama, I know you ask God to let me grow straight, but please ask Him a very great many times, so that He will be quite sure to hear. I do. 

 "I am going into Staunton with Uncle Ridley to put this in the office myself, so you will know it came right from me with a kiss on it. 

 "Good-bye, my dear, darling mama and sisters, "Your own "JEANIE. "

CHAPTER IX. 

WHAT OLIVE HEARD. 

Mr. Dane had closed his office at four o'clock. Nobody cared why he didso, and when he informed his book-keeper that she could go home, shenever stopped to wonder why, but wiped her pens, straightened her desk, got into her wrappings and went, with her mind fixed on a certainpicture that needed much that these two vacation hours could give. 

It was snowing very hard, great blinding flakes that came whirlingdefiantly into your eyes, nose, and mouth; almost preventing a necessaryamount of sight and breath: and they had collected to such depth, thatwalking was a matter of much labor, and only a few plucky pedestrianswere out to enliven the quiet shrouded streets. Olive plunged rapidlyalong with her head down and seemed more engrossed with her ownthoughts, than with any contemplation of the weather, for she whiskedthe impudent flakes aside and seemed to be looking down at somethingthat was neither of earth, earthy, or of snow, snowy, but quite beyondthe realm of either. She was scowling much the same as usual only insomething of a puzzled way, that had less of the impatient dissatisfiedtinge to it than was customary. In fact she was thinking of that lasttalk she had had with her mother, before Mr. Congreve went back toVirginia, when she had resolved in a vague hasty way, that she was goingto do differently; and really, how little good, or change, had come fromthe resolution. She didn't think, to begin with, that she was any worsethan the rest, or that she needed changing any more, but rather anything, than be like Mr. Congreve! So she summed up all she knew of him, resolved on what was disagreeable, and began to model herselfaccordingly. So to begin with she was no longer so hasty or bitter, inspeech I mean, for her inner-self was not touched, she only kept it allto herself now, instead of speaking it out as formerly, but if shethought herself changed there, she was the only one deceived, for ourinner minds do not always require the aid of language to photographthemselves before the world. Next, instead of staying with the girls outof store hours, and running the risk of losing her temper, she heldherself sternly aloof, always in the security of her own room, and atthe end of a week was apt to say to herself with some satisfaction:

"There, I surely have done well; haven't been mad with any one thisweek, which is more than the other girls can say;" and there never cameany thought that the sisters were hurt over her manner, for, indeed, shehad worked herself up to the bitter belief, that they did not want her, she was so ugly, and so unlike them in all ways. 

Now what puzzled her was the girls. Here she had worked (yes, shethought she had worked), she certainly ought to be improved, and yetthey seemed to think no more of her than before. Way down in Olive'sheart, was a longing, --choked and starved, that was beginning to assertitself. When home held mother and father and everything that could makea girl contented, she had not felt, or rather, listened to it; shecompelled herself to be without it; but now, when they were left alone, when their daily life and happiness was so utterly dependent upon eachother, she began to realize how she was out of the loving circle thatbound her sisters together, and what a gulf of her own make, seemed tolie between them. She stood beside it in frequent contemplation, butnever recognized her own handiwork, so she eyed it bitterly, and thoughtthem cruelly unkind. 

This was what she was thinking about as she plunged through the storm, looking like an animated snow-figure, so powdered was she; and regardingherself for a moment, Olive went round to the back door, so as todispose of her ladened garments and brush off her shoes This done, shewent into the kitchen, where a warm atmosphere still lingered, and, preferring to be alone, sat down there, with her feet in the oven andher chin in her hands, and once more fell into a brown study. Only a fewminutes later, Kittie came into the dining-room for something, and ongoing back, failed to close the door, so that the murmur of voices camequite distinctly out to the quiet kitchen. A discussion was warmly inprogress, and in a minute Olive started out of her reverie at hearingher name spoken. 

"What's the use? Olive knows, or ought to know better. " It wasErnestine's voice. 

"But, mama says, " interposed Bea, mildly persuasive, "that we don't tryhard enough; we give up too soon. "

"Bother, " cried Kat, "would she have us always playing the 'gentlesister, meek and mild, ' and go whining about Olive as though her companywas a great honor. I'm sure we had a season of always begging her to gowith us, and didn't she snap us up like a rat-trap?"

"She--well--she's very odd you know, " said Bea, wondering if her quiverof defense would outlast the arrows of complaint. 

"Yes, odd, as an odd shoe, " laughed Kat with a yawn. 

"What did mama say to you, Bea?" asked Ernestine. 

"She said that Olive's greatest fault was being so nasty and sensitive, and that because she was rather plain and--"

"She isn't, " interrupted Kittie, with much energy. "I think she hasbeautiful eyes, if she just wouldn't scowl so much, and when she laughsher mouth and teeth are just as pretty, only she never laughs more'nonce a month, so people don't know it. Not one of us has such lovelythick hair as she has, and if she just would wave or crimp it a littlebit in front, I think--well, I think she would be real pretty. " Andovercome with this valuable earnest defence, Kittie sat down and lookedcomplacent. 

"When I see Olive Dering crimping her hair, and laughing instead ofscowling, I will look for the end of the world, " said Ernestine, withsome asperity, as she walked over to the glass and surveyed her ownhair, which Kittie had intimated was inferior to Olive's. "She can't doit, she was made to frown and stay by herself and she better do it. "

"You don't mean it, Ernestine, you know you don't, " said Bea, in a toneof calm conviction, and beginning to feel that the duties of eldersister imposed a warmer defense of this abused one, upon her. "I want totell you how I feel, though it may be nothing as you all do. I reallybelieve Olive thinks we do not want her, because, for so long timelately, we have just let her alone, and she always goes----"

"None of us ever receive a special invitation to join this circle, "interrupted Kat, briskly. "Why should she?"

"I don't know, but she is so strange, " answered Bea, rather helplessly, but not giving up. "And because she is so, we have sort a' stayedtogether and let her alone. When we used to try to get her to go withus, I think she always refused, because she thought she was ugly, and wedid not try long enough to overcome this feeling, and now she imagineswe don't want her. "

"Stuff, " persisted Kat, "I wouldn't act that way if I was as ugly as awilted pumpkin and cross-eyed. What's the use?"

"None, " promptly responded Beatrice. "But if you were like her, verylikely you'd feel as she does. "

"Catch me, " laughed Kat, jumping up and making a scornful spin on herheel. "What do you say, Kittie?"

"I had my say a minute ago, " answered Kittie, who was evidently thinkingout something over the flames. 

"I wonder what makes her hate Uncle Ridley so?" was Ernestine's query, as she turned from the glass, having satisfied herself that Kittie wascertainly wrong about Olive's hair. 

"I never could imagine, " answered Bea, with evident curiosity. 

"She won't call him, uncle, and the dress he sent her is in mama's room, and Olive says, she'll never wear it. "

"May be she would give it me, " suggested Kat. "I think hers was prettierthan any of the rest. "

"Well, I don't, " said Ernestine, taking exceptions to this remark also. "Why hers is black?"

"I'm perfectly aware of that, also, that yours is purple, Bea's brown, mine and Kittie's grey; tell me something I don't know, " said Katflippantly. "I wish ours were black, it's so stylish. "

That black was more stylish than purple, was an idea quite beneathErnestine's notice, so she went back to her former query. 

"I would like to know, anyhow, what makes Olive dislike him so. " ForMrs. Dering had not thought it necessary that the girls should know oftheir father's final appeal, and Mr. Congreve's reception thereof; sothey were all equally curious, and so, nobody being able to give ananswer, Kat ventured an assertion. 

"She hates him just because it's a part of her religion to hateeverybody, and, to go around with her fist doubled up ready to fight. Ibelieve she'd hate us with a little trying. "

"Kat, " cried Beatrice, with some severity. "You must not speak so, it iswrong, and you don't mean it Why, if any one else was to say such thingsabout Olive, you'd pretty near fight. "

"To be sure I would, " said Kat with ready inconsistency. "I truly thinkOlive is a trump, and I'd cheerfully knock anybody down who said shewasn't. I don't know what we would have done without her in the trouble, and I do wish she wasn't so odd, and stayed away from us so. "

"She makes me think of a chestnut burr, " said Kittie resorting tofigurative comparisons. "There's lots of good in her, but she won't letany one get at it. If we try, she shuts up and gets prickly. I neverthought much about it, until here lately, and then she was so splendid, and knew how to do everything; and, I begin to think that there is everso much more to her than we think, even if she is queer, and don't seemto like us much. "

"Well, I wouldn't worry so about her, " interposed Ernestine, as thoughthe subject wearied her. "She evidently don't like us excessively, orcare about being with us, so leave her alone. Bea, come let's try ourduet. "

Olive had sat perfectly still, and heard all this, quite unconsciousthat her feet were getting chilly in the cold oven, or that, perhaps, she should have notified them of her presence. She had a vague feeling, as of one trying hard to solve a problem, and pausing suddenly in hervain efforts, to listen to some one solving it for her. But surely theycould not be right! Olive left her seat noiselessly, and went up theback stairs to her room. It was bitterly cold there, but she wrapped hershawl about her, and sat down by the window, where the fast fallingsnow was almost hidden in a heavy wrap of early twilight. Olive did notoften pray. To be sure she said her prayers every night, as properly andmethodical as clockwork, and was very particular about always kneelingdown, as though position could atone for any lacking earnestness; forshe was just as apt to be thinking of her account-book, or Mr. Dane'slast order, as of anything, in the hurried words that slid over herlips. Yes, she prayed in this way once in every twenty-four hours, butthere never came to her any of those sudden, passionate appeals for helpor strength, when the whole heart leaps to the lips, or pleads dumbly, in its great need. Notwithstanding all teachings to the point, it neverreally occurred to her that God had as quick and sympathetic an ear fora little prayer of few words over some trivial worry, given silently inthe busy kitchen, or on the crowded street, as He had for those when sheknelt down at night, and absently asked for her daily bread, and toforgive as she was forgiven, and then get properly into bed andrefrained from speaking again, lest she spoilt the effect. At any rate, the first prayer that had ever sprung to her lips, with the suddennessof utter helplessness, came from them now, as she sat there, trying tothink and battle with hasty conclusions that would spring up:

"Oh God, please don't let me try to think it out alone, because I willget it all wrong if I do. If it is my fault, make me feel it and knowhow to act, and don't let me be so odd, or whatever it is that makes mefeel as I do. "

With the earnestness of the request, came a quiet feeling that she feltto be her answer, and all the time she sat there, which was until thesupper-bell rang, she felt more contented than ever before with herthoughts. Not that God immediately took away her faults, and left herplacid and quiet, with nothing to battle against, because He does not dothat way; it can never be said to us: "Well done, good and faithfulservant, " if we've done nothing; and the battling with our faults andworries is just as much our work, as the successful doing of some greatdeed that may bring both God's pleasure and an earthly halo. 

When Mrs. Dering came home on Friday evening, she was quick to note achange of some kind, not but what every one seemed the same at a quickobservation, but, there was a something. Now don't think that any thingso unnatural and improbable had happened, as Olive being bereft of allfaults, and suddenly clothed in the guise of a household angel, becausethere hadn't, there never does; but she had thought much, and Olive hada mind capable of more deep reasoning thought than most girls offifteen; she stopped fighting herself with weapons solely of her ownmake, but sent many a little wordless prayer for a different feeling, and then she found that it came more easily, and more completelytriumphed over its enemy. To-night she had a little ribbon tied in herhair, only a small thing, but something unusual for Olive, and Mrs. Dering noticed that the bow at her throat was just of the same shade, also something unusual. Now over just this little thing, Olive had stoodin silence, while two feelings within her held an argument:

"What's the use, " said one; "you're as ugly as fate, and the girls willlaugh; besides if you go in the sitting-room after supper, they will sayyou just did it to make them say something. "

"No such thing, " retorted the other, "You've no right to think suchthings, when they've given you no reason. Go on right down stairs, youknow they want you, they said they did. " And so she had gone downimmediately, --perhaps she took a little pleasure in defyingherself, --and though the girls saw the ribbons the moment she came in, no one said anything, for there came a feeling to each, that she wouldnot want them spoken of. 

Mrs. Dering noticed also that when they were gathered in thesitting-room after supper, that instead of sitting off in the far cornerof the lounge as usual, she had joined the circle about the table, andwas busy on some worsted work. 

Ernestine was rocking idly with her pretty feet displayed on the fender, and her prettier hands clasped above her head, in an attitude bothgraceful and becoming. She was surveying the group about the table, where all hands were busy, and all tongues going merrily, and more thanonce her eyes went from Olive's ribbon's to Olive's face, so changedunder the effect of a smile. They were talking of father now, with theirvoices lowered a little, and looking up frequently to the largeportrait, as if expecting him to answer, and she wondered a little, whatcould be the matter with Olive, that she talked so much more than usual. 

"A penny for your thoughts Ernestine, " said Bea, in a pause that camepresently. 

"I was just thinking how hard it was to be disappointed, " answeredErnestine, as pathetically as though the whole world had grieved her insome way. 

"What's your disappointment! tell us, " cried Kittie with interest; andeverybody looked up expectant at the young lady who "had adisappointment. "

"Why, I want to study with great masters and be a splendid wonderfulsinger, with the whole world at my feet, and sending me elegantpresents, " said Ernestine, who always liked to tell her littlegrievances or wants, and receive condolence or help. 

"What a modest desire, " laughed Kat. "Hasn't some one else got adisappointment, because they can't sit on a gold throne and eat saucemade of pearls with a gold spoon?"

"I've got one, " said Bea, with her head over her sewing. "I'd like tohave mama stay home and be easy, and I'd like to have lots of prettyclothes and some real lace. "

"Well, I've got one, " announced Kat briskly. "I don't like being poor. Ihate pots and kettles worse than mad dogs. I would like a wheel-barrowfull of butter-scotch every day and a pair of slippers with blue topsand French heels. I haven't got any talent, so I needn't worry aboutnever being able to bring it out; it would scare me to death if I hadone, because talented people are always expected to do something big. That's all, and I don't know really where the disappointment is, but Iguess it's the butter-scotch and slippers. What's yours Kittie?"

"I don't know, " answered Kittie, with a sigh and a glance at her hands. "I guess mine's having to wash dishes, and not having black eyes, andnot being able to travel all over the world. "

"Well, I've got one too, " said Olive, to every one's intense surprise, as they did not suppose that she was paying any attention to what theywere saying, much less to join them. "I'd like to be as beautiful as theloveliest portrait ever seen, and be able to paint the grandest picturesin the world. "

Everyone was silent with astonishment. For Olive to express two wishes, and such exaggerated ones, before them all, was something no one couldfully appreciate who had not heard her repeatedly ridicule the same whenuttered by the others. 

Mrs. Dering had been sewing and listening with a smile, but now sheglanced up, met Olive's eyes, and the smile brightened warmly, and therewas something in it that made Olive's heart feel happy and glad that shehad made her little speech, though she had hesitated before doing so. 

"I don't suppose anybody cares to hear about my disappointments, " saidMrs. Dering, not looking as if she had any. 

"Yes, we do; I was just going to ask, " exclaimed Kittie, moving closer. "I know you've got heaps, and they're not about clothes andbutter-scotch, and eyes, and doing great things either. Now tell usall. "

"I don't see why I should have heaps, " began Mrs. Dering, with a laugh. "Is it because I am so old, or do I look as though I had been weighteddown with them?"

"Why, no indeed; but didn't you ever have any, really?"

"Yes, indeed, my dear girls, many; that at the time, perhaps seemed veryhard and bitter; but I came through them, and have seen some happy, happy days where their shadow never fell. I tell you what would be avery bitter disappointment to me now, and that would be to have mygirls grow to womanhood, and each be discontented with her lot. I wouldfeel as though all my love and labor had been in vain. It is my constantregret that I cannot give you each a complete and finished education, and supply home with all the comforts we love; but when I look at younow, all working so bravely, and receiving with so little complaint yourrigid discipline, it makes me happy indeed, because I see in you, awomanly strength and character, that a life of ease, comfort, and fewself-denials, could never have brought out clearly, and I know that Godhas chosen this way to make our girls the dear noble women we want them. I would that He had seen best to leave father with us, but He did not, so we must just feel that He still loves, and is interested in us, andhave just as much thought for His approval as when _he_ was with us. Now, about your disappointments;" and there she paused to glance around, but each young face was warm with interest, so she went on with hercheery smile:

"Here Ernestine, to begin with, wants to conquer the world with song, and receive elegant presents. Dearie, to conquer the world, the great, many-faced world, one's head and heart must be capable and willing toassume any and every guise; to stoop to every form of policy thatsecures the fickle smile; to bend to all its freaks, until it issubject to yours; and after you had done this, after you had spent yourlife's sweetest and purest years in studying the art of deceit andtriumph, and had brought the beautiful wicked world to your feet, wouldyou be quite happy? Could you ever be again the fresh, untouched, purehearted creature that you are now? I'm afraid not, dear; and yourwarmest, greatest longing, would come back to home and girlhood, whenyou only knew the world's wickedness by hearsay, when you owed itnothing, and never heard its grasping cry for pay for its homage. 

"Bea wants pretty clothes, and regrets that mother must work. Quitenatural, dear, we all love pretty clothes, and I hope some time we canhave all we want, providing it does not become a chief and selfishdesire. Mother loves to work for her girls, and only regrets that itmust take her from them so much of the time, for the dearest light to amother's life, the brightest cloud that receives that life's settingsun, is found in the circle of her children's faces. To go back to Bea, she wants some real lace; I hope she may have it some time; it is abeautiful and valuable addition to a lady's wardrobe. But I am quitesure that the face of my Beatrice could never look lovelier over a garbof rarest and most exquisite workmanship than it does to-night, over apretty linen band, with its womanly thoughtfulness and care. "

Bea flushed joyfully, and bent lower over her sewing, while mother wenton, with a glance at Kat's expectant face:

"Next comes one of papa's 'boys' with such a hodgepodge of adisappointment, that I can hardly make out which part of it grieves her, or if any does. She don't like pots and kettles, but they often teach usunromantic but necessary lessons that fans and perfumery never could. Awheel-barrow per day of butter-scotch would soon leave her more than shecould manage or desire, and slippers with satin tops and high heels, would only prove themselves useless and injurious. She also says she hasno talent, but she has a rare and valuable one, that of making the bestof all her little trials and grievances, of keeping her daily sunshinefree from clouds, and making home happy with her cheerful, happy heart. "

Kittie gave her mother's hand a grateful squeeze, for praise given toeither of the twins was dear to the other; and Kat sank out of her sightin her chair, quite overcome, and resolved heartily to cultivate hertalent to the uttermost. 

"Now, our other 'boy, '" continued Mrs. Dering, smiling down intoKittie's upturned face, "wants black eyes, don't like dish-washing, andwould like to travel. I wonder if she thinks I would give up thesebrave, true, trusty blue eyes, for all the black ones in the universe. They show what a warm, faithful heart lies within, a heart that sharesits twin's talent for making sunshine out of shadows, and home happywith its laughter. A life without a dish-pan misses a gooddisciplinarian, and, sometimes, a teacher of patience; it's like potsand kettles--unpleasant but necessary, so the sooner we take hold, whenwe have it to handle, and the better the grace with which we handle it, just so much have we brought our rebellious likes and dislikes undercontrol, and made the best of our duty. While you are getting ready totravel, dear, read the works of those who have travelled, have your mindfresh and ready to more heartily enjoy what others have seen and madeimmortal through the power of their pen, and if it is best that thatpleasure should be given you, it will come at the right time. 

"Our Olive next. I wonder if she thinks that though her face was asexquisitely beautiful as the rarest picture ever painted, that it couldbe any more precious to our sight, than it is now; or if beauty of theloveliest type would be taken in exchange for the strong, earnestcharacter and brave, true heart that is stamped in it. The mostbeautiful face may sometimes, by nature's indelible portrayer, revealitself soulless in heart and mind; and the plainest face possess anirresistible charm, if it is allowed to interpret the emotions of atruly noble heart. I have no ambition that my little girl should paintthe grandest pictures in the world, but I hope before long to give herinstructions in the art that she loves, and then I want her to use tothe uttermost, the beautiful talent God has given her, and though itshould fall far short of being the grandest picture, I should be veryhappy, and quite content. "

Mrs. Dering began folding up her sewing as she finished, and the girlsdid likewise, looking as though they had taken the little talk to heartand were thinking over it. Olive went out for her account-books and herface wore a happier look, than any one could remember seeing therelately. Before they got through examining and comparing accounts, theother girls said good-night and went up stairs, and when the last bookwas pushed aside, Mrs. Dering put her arm around Olive, who sat on thestool at her feet, and looked down at her with a smile. 

"I like this, dear, " she said, touching the ribbons. "And you have mademe so much happier to-night, by looking more happy, what is it dear?"

"Nothing, mama, " answered Olive. "Only I came home early one day, whenthe girls didn't know it, and I heard them talking about me. They saidhow queer and odd I was, and how they felt hurt, because I always stayedaway from them, and some more things, and mama, I was so amazed. Ialways thought they didn't want me, and I didn't know which way tobelieve and I, --I just asked God to help me; and I guess He did. It'sterrible hard work, though I've only tried it a few days. I'm so ugly, and I've got such a dreadful temper, and always want to think the wrongway, but I notice that I really have been happier these few days; andmama, to-night, you--" Olive paused and looked up shyly, she did notoften say such things and it cost something of a little effort tobegin--"you looked so happy and I couldn't help but feel that it wasbecause you were glad, and I really am going to try all the harder now. "

CHAPTER X. 

THE LITTLE BLACK TRUNK. 

When Spring came, spirits and strength began to flag. Everything withoutwas so alluring, that indoors and duties grew dreadfully monotonous andtiresome. Bea found that her sweeping and dusting fell terribly behind, because she spent so much time sitting in the window-sills, and standingin the doors, where the sunshine was so temptingly clear and warm, andfrom where the yard and trees, so rapidly budding out, could be enjoyed. Olive dreaded her close dark counting-room, but said little about it, inthe belief that complaining wouldn't help. Ernestine's four scholarslessened to two, and as the days grew warmer she spent much of the timeon the lounge, looking listless, and betraying little interest inanything. 

Kittie and Kat, found that snatching moments from work, to take a racedown the yard, or gather some particular cluster of fresh youngblossoms, gave dish-water a chance to cool; or dust, left ready fortaking up, to blow back to all corners of the room. Meals began to fallbehind, but everybody was too warm and listless to eat much, or mind thetardiness. In short, everybody had the spring fever, but such ordinarycomplaint was not noticed, until, as the heat grew more debilitating, Bea said to her mother one evening, as they stood in the door, lookingout into the soft still moonlight that lay so purely over the freshearly grass and blossoms:--"Mama, seems to me Ernestine is not well. "

Bea could not understand why her mother should start so, at such aslight intimation, or why her face should look so anxious as she turnedit. 

"Why, dear?"

"She lies down so much; it may be because the weather has turned warm sosuddenly, but seems to me, she is so pale and quiet, and it is somethingso unusual, that I couldn't help but notice it; but then, may be, it'snothing after all. "

"Only the weather, I fancy, " answered Mrs. Dering; but Bea saw that shelooked uneasy, and that all that evening she watched Ernestine, who layon the lounge, more lively than she had been for several days, with asparkling light in her eyes, and a rich color in her face, that made hermore beautiful than mother or sisters had ever seen her before. Beawatched her mother with some anxiety and no little curiosity. How sadand troubled her eyes looked, as they rested on Ernestine's radiantface, while every now and then a tremble seized her lips, even while shesmiled at the continual merry nonsense that seemed to possess the girlsthat night. 

"Ernestine's going to run away, " announced Kittie, presently, with someabruptness; but no one but Bea, who was on the alert, saw how her motherstarted, with a force that ran her needle clear under her thumb nail, orhow excessively pale she was as she wiped off the little drops of blood. 

"That I am, " laughed Ernestine gayly. "Some of these fine mornings I'llbe gone, and you'll find a touching little note on my pin-cushion; andafter I've earned piles of glory and money, I'll come back in an elegantcarriage, and set you all up in luxury. "

Everybody laughed, and professed much impatience for the delightful timeto arrive; but Mrs. Dering pushed her sewing aside with an impatienthand that trembled, and proposed that Ernestine sing for them, which sheimmediately did, with a bewildering bird-like witchery, that held themall entranced, and made the girls sigh more than once, that some of theflute-like tones had not been given to them, as their talent. 

Mrs. Dering's last look and words, when she left next morning, were forErnestine, who looked languid and pale in the sunshine, with all herradiant sparkle and color gone, and no sound or look of song about herlips; and after the hack had gone, and the girls returned to the house, Kat said to Kittie, with much resentment in her voice:

"Ernestine always was the petted one in this family. Just see howanxious mama is about her having a little spring fever, and what an easytime she has, anyhow. Only two music scholars! I guess we've got thespring fever just as bad as she has, but we have to work just as hard asever, and I don't think it is fair. "

And Kittie, notwithstanding she had some such thoughts herself, answeredpromptly:

"Well, I suppose there's a reason of some kind, because you know Kat, mama never would do anything unfair. Perhaps she thinks Ernestine ismore delicate than we are. "

"Delicate--fiddlesticks! I've three minds to believe it's because she'sgot such big brown eyes and yellow hair, and is so--well--so--"

"Ain't you ashamed, " interrupted Kittie, slamming down her dishes. "Tohint at such a thing, Kat Dering!"

The very next evening that brought Mrs. Dering home, brought her with aproposition for Ernestine to go into the country for a week or two, giving her two pupils a vacation for that length of time. Perhaps itoccurred to each of the girls that they needed the rest just as much, if not a little more than Ernestine, and perhaps Mrs. Dering detectedthe look in their faces, for she sighed, and Bea discovered that thesame sad look, only deepened and more anxious, lingered in her eyes; andto show her repentance for a moment's complaining thought, she enteredheartily into Ernestine's selfish joy. 

"Just think how I will ride horseback, " cried Ernestine, gayly. "I mustfix out a habit some way, mama, and girls, you must let me have all yourpretty things, because Mrs. Raymond's girls dress beautifully, andentertain a great deal. "

"But my dear, " spoke her mother, "I am sending you out there to rest, toenjoy their lovely home, and to grow stronger on country air, not tofrolic and waste all your strength. "

"Oh, mama, what an idea!" laughed Ernestine. "Why, I'm not sick, I don'tneed rest, all I want is a little fun and something gay. Look at Bea;she's as pale as a little ghost; you might talk about sending her out tothe country to be quiet, and drink milk, but not me. I don't need it. "And Ernestine nodded gayly to her own radiant reflection in the glassopposite; then without waiting for any answer, jumped up and waltzedaround the room. 

"What a blessing it is that Uncle Ridley gave us the dresses. My purpleis just as stylish as can be, only I do wish, mama, you'd have let mehad a train to it; I'm so tall, and plenty old enough. Bea, will you letme have that pretty gilt butterfly that you fixed for your hair, andyour gold cuff pins? I've lost one of mine, and they are always such anaddition to one's dress. Olive, you never wore your new black kids much;let me take them, will you? mine look worn, and I do love nice gloves;they always mark a lady. And your new dress. I do need a black onedreadfully, and you say you never will wear yours, so you might just aswell give it to me, --loan it, anyhow. "

"You may have it, for all I care, " answered Olive. "But my gloves areone of the things that I cannot loan. "

"Nor the dress, " said Mrs. Dering, quickly. "You have quite enoughdresses, Ernestine, and besides, Olive's is from her Uncle Ridley, andshe cannot give it away. "

Ernestine couldn't see any sense of having it lay upstairs in thedrawer, though she did not say so; and privately thought that perhapsshe could coax her mother around, since Olive was so willing. It provedquite a vain idea, however, though she made it her last request in themorning, before her mother left. 

"No, Ernestine, I spoke quite as decidedly the first time you asked me. Be all ready to go by this day week, you have not much sewing to do. Good-bye, once more, my girls; be careful of the lights, take good careof yourselves and do not get sick. Write to Jean to-morrow, a nice longletter and tell her everything. Good-bye. "

So she went away again, and nothing discouraged at her inability tosecure Olive's dress, Ernestine danced gayly into the house and off toher room, to overlook, for the dozenth time, her little collection oftrinkets, and to sing blithely over her dresses; for she did possess thespirit of coming down cheerfully to any thing inevitable excepting work, and then, perhaps, mama would relent at the final moment, when she sawhow much a black dress was really needed. 

"It's as lonesome as a desert, and Ernestine is selfish as a pig, "declared Kittie, subsiding gloomily on to the stairs as the hack rattledout of sight. 

"Two solemn facts, but they won't wash the dishes, " rejoined Kat, balancing over the bannisters, in a way that threatened immediateperpendicularity, with a change of base from what was customary. 

"I hate dishes and dish-pans and everything, " exclaimed Kittie with muchvehemence. "Any how, this is your week to wash, and mine to wipe; goalong and get the old things ready, and I'll be out in a minute. "

"I'll change with you next week, " said Beatrice turning from the door, where she had stood contemplatively. "You and Kat may tend to all thesweeping, and dusting, and keeping the house in order, and I'll do thekitchen work. "

"Hurrah, will you?" cried Kittie, flying up from her despondentattitude. "You're a jewel, Bea, shake hands. "

Bea surrendered her hand with some misgiving, rightfully conjecturingthat it would receive a shake and twist of over-powering heartiness inthe high tide of Kittie's spirits; and that young lady, having done herbest to dislocate that useful member, rushed off to impart the news toKat, and swing her dish rag jubilantly. 

The change of instruments, as the girls said, took place Monday morning. Bea awoke, to find her bed-posts ornamented variously, with a dish-pan, a flaunting rag and two scrupulously neat towels, while there was asound of revelry in the lower hall, which would indicate that the twinswere up, and at their new branch of work, with a vigor which noveltyalways imparts to labor. Not that there was anything so novel to a broomor dust-pan, but they were so tired of their work, that Bea's reallyseemed delightful and easy and much to be envied. 

"You must have been anxious to get to work, " said that sister, comingdown the stairs with her post ornaments, and interrupting a livelyskirmish, where brooms flew around through the air, with a cheerfuldisregard for the swinging lamp, or any one's head. 

"Anxious to get through, you mean, " laughed Kat, throwing down herweapon, and tumbling her dishevelled hair into a net. "Hollo, Kittie, your corners are swept cleaner'n mine. "

"Of course, " answered Kittie complacently, and turning her broom rightend up, in a spasm of housewifely care. "You better go to work and doyours over; that's in the bargain, isn't it, Bea?"

"Work to be done well, " said Bea, surveying Kat's corners with acritical eye. "And those are not clean; you've slipped right by them. "

"Just as well, " asserted Kat, whisking her broom about and scatteringthe dust that disgraced a small corner over such extent of surface thatit could not be noticed. "That's the way. What's the use of being soparticular?"

Bea shook her head and declared it wouldn't do, then gave to Kittie theoverwhelming responsibility of keeping Kat straight, and departed forthe kitchen. 

"Set the blind to lead the blind, " laughed Kat, spinning about on herheels, and finishing up with a hearty hug for Kittie, and the penitentremark: "You are getting lots better than I, that's a fact; and I mustbegin to brush up and sober down, or I'll be the black sheep of theflock, --as if I wasn't always that. But you really are getting terriblegood, Kittie; I've seen it for a long time and it makes meuncomfortable; spin around and be gay like you used to. "

"Nonsense, " laughed Kittie, then looked sober, and sat down upon thestairs suddenly. "I'm not good, Kat, it isn't that; I don't know how tobe; but some way, I can't be as terribly wild and gay as I used to be, there seems to be so much more to think about now, and seems to me weought to help think as much as the others, and besides, I don't think weought to be so wild any more; why, Kat, we're in our teens!"

"Suppose we are, dear me!" cried Kat, standing off and surveying hersister with a sort of vague alarm, "what ever is the matter with thisfamily? Olive is getting so pleasant, and wears ribbons, and you're notgoing to be wild any more, and have gone to thinking; you'll both dienext thing, good people always die; and anyhow, my fun's all up. I nevercan be gay if you sit around so solemn and goody-goody;" and Kat rumpledup her hair and looked desperate. 

"The idea, what a speech!" exclaimed Kittie, looking as if her newresolutions had received a shock. "As if I couldn't be sensible withoutbeing goody-goody, whatever that is. Pick up your broom and don't worry, my dear. I'll never die of being too good. "

Nevertheless, Kat looked forlorn all the rest of the day, and had spellsof solemnly surveying Kittie, as though some wonderful change had takenplace, and a pair of wings, or some equally astonishing thing might bethe result. Next morning was as beautiful as a spring morning ever couldbe, and Kat took much comfort in the fact, that, in her haste to get outto the pond, Kittie flew about the sitting-room in a hurry, whisked thedirt under the stove, didn't stop to dust, except a rapid skim over thetop, left the piano shut, neglected to put fresh flowers under father'sportrait, and shut the blinds so as to hide all defects under acomfortable shielding gloom. Kat looked on and felt relieved. Kittiewasn't going to be so dreadfully good and proper after all, and muchconsoled, Kat put on her hat, and dashed out to the pond, where Kittiewas already sailing about, with her head still ornamented in a dust-cap. 

Bea had watched their early departure from the field of work, with somemisgiving, and decided to go and take a view of the house as soon as shegot the dishes put away, but just at that moment, the door bell rang;and dear me, what should she do? The twins were at the farthest end ofthe pond, yelling like bedlamites, Bea declared. Ernestine had finishedher small share of work, then put on her cocked-up hat with a blue bow, and gone down town; so there was no one left to see to the door, andsmoothing down her hair, Bea hurried through the hall with flushedcheeks and some anxiety. 

True to a prophetic feeling which possessed her, the opening of the doordisclosed to view the last person to be desired, on that or any othermorning: Miss Strong, a regular Dickensonian old maid. 

"Good morning, sweet child!" she exclaimed, the moment Bea's dismayedface presented itself. 

"Good morning, Miss Strong; will you come in?"

"Come in? Surely, dear. I want to see you all; and then I hear that youand your sisters are such model little housekeepers, and I think it isso lovely that you all, in your heart-rending afflictions, should bow someekly beneath God's chastening rod, and put your shoulders to thewheel. "

Bea opened the sitting-room door in fear and trembling, and blinded bythe spring sunshine, Miss Strong walked into the dark room, in hergirlish, hasty way, and immediately stumbled over a footstool, andlanded at full length on the lounge, with such force that she droppedher beaded reticule, and knocked her bonnet off. 

"Oh, I am so sorry, " cried Bea, running to pick up the things, andreturn them to the startled and scarlet-faced spinster. "I don't knowwhy Kittie shut the blinds, she oughtn't to. "

"No, I should say she hadn't, I should, indeed, " returned Miss Strong, putting on her bonnet with a jerk, and snapping her reticule. "It's asinful shame, the way some people keep their houses dark as dungeons, tohide dirt and dust. I have heard that you were neat housekeepers, but Ican't help having my opinion of people who shut out every speck oflight, and trip up respectable people in this way. "

Poor Bea's face burned and burned, and her heart throbbed faster as shewent to the window, to open the blinds, feeling that her reputation wasat stake, and that the first ray of light would kindle the faggots. Nota speck of dust, from the ceiling down, would escape Miss Strong's eagleeyes, and oh, how she would talk about it! Well, it was done; she threwthem open, and turned around in the calmness of despair. The glaringsunshine came boldly in, and danced over the dusty table, over the topof the piano, where you might have written your name, right under thestove where the dirt lay thick, all around the corners, into MissStrong's scornful, roving eyes, and into Bea's burning face. Miss Strongwas angry. She never liked to be seen or heard under a disadvantage, andshe surely had received an unreconcilable insult just now. Besides, shealways went about seeking whom she might devour; she wore littlespit-curls all over her sallow, wrinkled forehead, had a hooked nose, along, sharp chin, a dried-apple mouth, and two fiercely bright eyes, that looked clear through you, and plainly indicated that she thoughtyou all wrong, and at fault. Whenever she heard any one praised, sheimmediately set about finding a flaw somewhere, and heralded it to theworld, as soon as found. She knew the Dering family were not as nice andworthy of praise and sympathy, as people seemed to think, and she hadcome this morning on purpose to find out, and then correct the deludedpublic mind. She was quite satisfied, and the "I-told-you-so" spiritwas so jubilant within her, that she could hardly keep from flaunting itbefore Bea's distressed face. She satisfied herself, however, withlooking at each dusty article with great care, brushing some imaginaryspecks from her dress, settling her bonnet, and asking abruptly:

"How's your mother? I haven't long to stay. "

"She was quite well, thank you, the last time she was home, " answeredBea, watching those eagle eyes in terror. 

"Umph! Pity she can't stay home, " said Miss Strong, once more taking inthe room with an unmistakable glance. 

"It's very lonely without her, " assented Bea, catching sight of thewilted flowers under her father's portrait, and fervently hoping thather visitor's eye would not see them. But vain hope! Miss Strong's eyeswent straight from the dirt under the stove up to the neglected vase, and she smiled in a way, that made Bea long to jump up and scream. 

"I have often wanted to see your father's portrait, and I have heardwhat beautiful flowers you always kept under it. So lovely!"

"We do, " answered Bea, with much dignity, and flashing a resentfulglance at Miss Strong. "Papa loved flowers dearly, and we always love tohave them under his picture; but Kittie must have been in a hurry, andforgotten it this morning. "

"In-deed, " said Miss Strong slowly. "But excuse me, pray do, I wouldn'thave spoken of it, but I supposed, of course, that this room had notbeen arranged for the day yet. "

"Well, it is very early, " retorted Bea, stung quite out of her patientpoliteness; and Miss Strong got up immediately, shutting her mouth witha vicious snap. 

"I'm sure I wouldn't have called so early, " she said shortly. "But I amsoliciting for the Church Fund, and having heard how exceedinglygenerous and willing you all were to give to all such causes, I made myfirst call here, confident that it would yield me encouragement. "

Poor Bea colored violently again, remembering that she only had enoughmoney to pay the grocery bill, due to-morrow, and yet Miss Strong hadmade her feel as though she must give something; every one would expectit. 

"I'm very sorry, " she said, slowly. "But I really cannot this morning. "

"In-deed, " said Miss Strong again. "But then, people will be mistakenonce in a while; I must bid you good morning, Miss Dering;" and out shestalked, before Bea could gain her breath. 

When Kittie and Kat came in from the pond a little while later, theyfound Bea, lying on the lounge and sobbing, with a despairing energy, that excited their liveliest alarm, and made all horrible things seempossible, from mother's death down to the breaking of the cherishedfamily tea-pot. Bea told her story, but hadn't room to remonstrate, forthe sobs that caught her breath; and the girls listened in grave alarm. 

"Who cares for old Polly Strong?" cried Kat, with defiant irreverence, and throwing her hat to the ceiling. 

"Well, I'm sorry, " cried Kittie, running to comfort the prostrate chief. "It's all my fault; Kat swept the parlor this morning and I cleaned inhere. Oh, I am ashamed, and so sorry, Bea dear. "

"Well--well, I think it's too--too bad, " sobbed Bea, uncomforted. "Shetalked so mean, and--and--she'll tell everybody that--that--I'm nohousekeeper, and then--then, mama--"

"If she does, " interrupted Kat fiercely, "I'll tell every mortal man, woman and child, in turn, that she's a meddling old thing, if they don'tknow it already; and I'll tell them just the truth about this room, too. "

"It was horrible in me, " sighed Kittie in great self-reproach. "And whenyou were so kind as to change, too. We'll go right back to the dishes, Bea, and not disgrace your work any more, and I'll go right to work andclean this room decent, so that everything will shine until you can seeyour face in it. "

By this time Ernestine's wardrobe was pretty near ready to go upon hervisit. She had exercised her ingenuity in making few things look theirbest and go a long way; and her selfishness in getting every availablething from the girls, without ever expressing a wish that they weregoing to share the pleasure; because, she reasoned in her mind, if theywere going, she couldn't have all their pretty things, so better bestill, than express an untruthful desire. On the day after the Strongvisit, she came from down-town, and walked up to the house, very much asif she were a little ashamed to go in, but which she did, with anassumption of indifference, and came into the room where the girls weresitting. 

"I've got the last things, " she said with a laugh, tinged with anuneasiness that no one noticed, and unwrapping a small parcel. 

"What?" asked Bea, glancing up with interest; then looked at the openpaper, and did not say another word. 

Kittie and Kat did likewise, and in a moment Ernestine broke the silencewith an impatient laugh. 

"Well, what do you all look so horrified at? It was my own money, Iguess, and precious little at that. "

"What did you pay for them?" asked Bea gravely. 

"These--" Ernestine held up a pair of snowy kids, with three buttons--"Igot for a dollar and a half, cheap, because one finger is a littlesoiled. This--" lifting a creamy tip, with pale blue shading--"was twodollars. Won't it look lovely in my black hat?"

"Yes, it will look lovely, " said Bea slowly; she was really tooastonished and hurt to say any more; but Kat cried out explosively:

"Oh Ernestine Dering! you selfish, selfish, old--pig, you--" "Know mamawants shoes, " interrupted Kittie, with her voice full of indignanttears. "And you heard her say the last time she was home, that she didnot want to spend the money for them, and here you spend three dollarsand a half for--"

"Things that I want, " finished Ernestine, getting up and pushing herchair away. "I've worked hard, and I think I might spend a very littlebit of my own money. You all don't seem to think so, and you're not verypleasant, so I'll just leave you until you are in a better humor. "

With that she went out, feeling really as though she were more aggrievedthan aggressor, and stillness followed her departure. 

"She's worked hard?" cried Kittie at length, with indignant scorn. "Veryhard; but mama hasn't, nor we haven't--"

"Oh don't, please, " exclaimed Bea, bursting into tears. "Don't sayanything, girls; I don't know what I hadn't rather have, than for mamato know that Ernestine would do such a thing. Oh, I wish she need neverto know it. "

It did not take much thought to decide Ernestine, that she was muchabused, and though her usually laggard conscience insisted on beingtouched, she solaced it by putting the tip in her hat, and seeing howbecoming it was, and by trying on the gloves, which were a perfect fit. Then putting them away, she stole off to the garret, to carry out aplan, made in secrecy--that of rummaging the packed trunks there, andperhaps finding something that could be turned into a party dress, whichshe was quite sure she would need. The garret was roomy and sunny, andall the rest of the afternoon, Ernestine comforted herself, and herabused feelings by hunting among the old trunks, and spinning many gaydreams, wherein she dwelt in luxury, and all that heart could wish. Shehad selected a pale green silk, and a fine soft lawn from her mother'sput aside wardrobe, and her mind's eye saw herself most becomingly, andbeautifully dressed in them--if mama would only consent. 

Over in the corner, something caught her eye presently, that she hadnever seen before. Only a small dark trunk with an air of secrecy aboutit; and something irresistibly took her right over to it, with her armload of gay things. 

"I wonder what it is, " she mused, fingering the lock curiously, andfeeling so strange as she did so. 

"Go away!" something seemed to say imperatively; but she lingered, andfingered more curiously than ever the small key attached to a fadedribbon. 

"Go away! Go away!" seemed to come again that voice, and she felt it toher inmost soul; but the very realization of an inward warning againstit, urged her on. She put the key in the lock, --and hesitated; turned itslowly, --and hesitated again; then broke into a nervous little laugh, and tossed the cover open. 

[Illustration: "NOW LET'S SEE WHAT'S IN THIS WONDERFUL TRUNK. "]

"Why I'm as cold as ice, what a goose! Now let's see what's in thiswonderful trunk to make me feel so funny; something splendid I guess, but I couldn't help opening it, I really couldn't, --oh dear!"

It was of disappointment, for there was nothing there but a queer oldbasket, a pillow, with a plain little slip, and a worn faded letter ontop. 

CHAPTER XI. 

WHERE IS ERNESTINE?

The odor of hot cakes brought everybody in a hurry, when Kat opened thedining-room door, and shouted, "supper!" as though she was a pop-gun andthe single word a deadly fire, and everybody had fallen to work atdemolishing the pile of aforesaid cakes, before Bea looked up suddenlyand asked:

"Where is Ernestine?"

Nobody knew, but Kat ventured, that perhaps she was going to supper it, on gloves and feathers. 

"You better call again, Kat, perhaps she didn't hear. "

So Kat rushed to the door, and shouted:

"Er-nes-tin-e-e, cakes are getting cold, " with an amount of energy andnoise that might have reached that young lady, had she been sitting onthe top-most round of the farthest chimney; but there was no responseof any kind, neither was there any indications of a light up stairs, soKat went back, remarking, as she again fell to work:

"She's put on her new toggery, most likely, and gone somewhere. "

"But where should she go?" asked Bea with a strange uneasiness. 

"Anywhere, just so people see her new things, and say how pretty shelooks, " answered Kat, who was not uneasy. 

So they eat supper and waited; but no appearance of the delinquent. Thetwins began to clear up, putting a good supply in the oven to keep warm;but the dishes were through with, and all put away, and no Ernestine. Kittie began to feel anxious and worried, but Kat made fun of her, though she herself began to grow more quiet, as the evening went on. Eight. Nine. No Ernestine. What should they do?

Bea sprang up from her seat at the window, all in a pale tremor. 

"I cannot stand it. Oh, Olive, what shall we do?"

"Why, I don't know, " said Olive, putting down the book in which she hadread nothing. "Have you looked for her hat and cloak?"

No. No one had. So they all rushed up stairs, as though it required fivepairs of eyes to discover a hat and cloak, which was found lying on thebed, just as she had thrown them on coming up stairs. Bea went to herboxes, with a vague idea that the gloves and feather were in some wayconnected with the mystery; but they were put away with greatestpossible care, and Kat, who always did the absurd things in hastymoments, reported that all her clothes and dresses were in their places, so she couldn't have gone away. 

"Of course not; there's no place for her to go to, " answered Olive. 

"Mrs. Dane's, perhaps, " suggested Kittie. 

This was plausible. 

"But what would she go for?" asked Bea in a moment. "And without any hator shawl, and stay so late?"

Nobody knew, and all looked irresolute and anxious. 

"Her blue shawl is gone, " exclaimed Kat, in the midst of her secondrummage in the closet; for what, no one knew, since it was impossiblefor Ernestine to be hanging over a hook; or settled in one of herpockets. "And her straw hat!"

At that, all five dived into the closet, with no clearly definedpurpose, but it seemed the only thing to do just then; and in thescramble that followed, the missing straw hat was found on the floor, but no blue shawl kept its company. They all took hold of it in turn, looking at it solemnly, and turning it over and over, as though itpossessed the secret of its missing mistress. But if it knew, it keptits knowledge, and only flapped its ribbons in feeble protest at beingtwisted about so. No one said any thing, until Bea discovered two longgolden hairs clinging to the straw, then she threw it down, and burstinto tears. Everybody looked aghast, and Bea cried out between her sobs:

"I can't help it--indeed--I feel as if something dreadful hadhappened--and I'm so frightened. "

Just then the clock struck ten, such slow solemn strokes, echoingthrough the still house, and everybody shivered drearily, and lookedfearfully out into the dark hall; wishing, oh, how fervently, thatmother was home. Bea stopped crying with a great effort, and seemed tofeel that she must do something--but what? She looked at the girls inanxious inquiry. Kittie and Kat were sitting on the bed, trembling andfrightened. Olive was so dreadfully pale and still; and Beatrice wasnearly at her wits end. 

"Perhaps--perhaps--" ventured Kittie, looking around as though her voicefrightened her: "she may be trying to frighten us; you know we were alittle fussy when she came up stairs this afternoon. "

Nobody seemed to think so, it might be a rather good joke, but Ernestinewouldn't keep it up until ten o'clock. 

"Let's look in the rooms and then go down stairs, said Olive taking upthe light. Perhaps she has gone to Mrs. Dane's after all, and is stayinglate to frighten us, as Kittie says. Come on, and when she comes, don'tpretend to be surprised or a bit scared. "

This being Olive's first suggestion, it was received as bearing someweight, as indeed suggestions and advice always are when they come frompeople who do not always have them at tongue's end, ready for all, orany occasions. A little brighter feeling dawned upon the forlorn group, as they went to the twin's and Olive's rooms, without finding any trace, and then returned to the sitting-room. Bea half hoped and expected thatthey would find Ernestine sitting by the fire, full of laugh, and readyto tease them on their fright and search; but she was disappointed, forthe room was dreary and lonely, the light wood fire having died ofneglect; and everything looked unutterably forlorn to their anxiouseyes. In an ominous silence all four sat down on the lounge, closelyhuddled together, and tried to talk; but it was a vain attempt. Itseemed impossible to bring any voice low enough so as that it did notsound like a trumpet in the painful stillness of the house; every onejumped when any one spoke, so by and by, they were perfectly still, while the clock ticked so loudly and every moment brought a deeper fearand trembling anxiety. 

Eleven! Twelve!

"Let us go to bed, " whispered Olive. Somehow it seemed that whisperingwas the only admissible thing then. "See, the lamp was not filled freshto-day, and it's burning down; we'll be in the dark in a few minutes. "

"Oh, I'm so afraid, " quavered Kat. "Let's all sleep together. "

No one seemed to object, for really it was something to chill even abrave heart. Those four girls alone in the great still house atmidnight, with the terrible fear at their hearts, and their wildestimagination in full play. They went up stairs as softly as thoughErnestine lay dead in the house; and all went with their eyes shutexcept Olive, who carried the lamp, and even she kept her eyes away fromeverything save right where she walked. No one had cried yet but Bea; sowhen they knelt about the bed for prayer, each one broke down, and theyfinally dropped asleep, sobbing softly, with their arms about eachother. 

Morning came, with the brightest of sunshine, and put a more cheerfulface upon things, as daylight always does. The girls jumped up merrily, quite convinced that it was all a joke, and that they were foolish tohave been so frightened. Ernestine had gone to Mrs. Dane's and stayedall night; she would be home pretty soon and they would all have a goodlaugh over it. So they thought, and flew about lively with their work;but breakfast was over and cleaned up, the house was all in order, andthe day fairly begun; still no Ernestine had arrived, and Olive had notgone. 

"Seems to me, I can't go until we know something, " she said, standing inthe door and looking down the street. "I will be home to dinner, andsurely she will be here by that time. "

"I suppose so, of course, " said Bea, feeling last night's fear beginningto tug at her heart again. 

"Seems to me nothing could happen with a morning so lovely as this, "said Kittie, looking anxious and sleepy. 

"Well, I suppose I must go, " said Olive at last. "I'm an hour late now, and I don't know what to tell Mr. Dane; but then, it's the first timeI've ever been tardy, so he may not speak of it. "

"If she comes pretty soon, I'll trot down and tell you, " volunteeredKat, who was stretching on the stairs, and pretty near strangling with asuccession of gasps. 

"All right, " said Olive, going out reluctantly. 

Morning went slowly and heavily; the girls tried to study as usual, butfound it impossible. There was only one thought in their minds;Ernestine! Ernestine! where was she?

"Kittie, " said Bea, when it was nearly noon, "Olive is so tired, Iexpect, being worried and up so late, and then bothering over herbusiness this morning, suppose you take her dinner down to her, and thengo round by Mrs. Dane's?"

"All right, " answered Kittie, glad of something to work off herfeverish impatience. "You fix the basket, while I run up stairs and getready; it will only take me a minute. "

Olive was sitting at her desk, very pale and tired, when Kittie came in. She looked up eagerly, but in a glance, each saw that the other knewnothing. 

"I brought your dinner, " said Kittie, putting down the basket, "because--she hasn't come, and we thought you'd be so tired. "

"I am, and so much obliged, " answered Olive, with a grateful smile, thinking, as she put the lunch aside, how kind it was, for Kittie wastired too; and thinking also, that a few weeks ago they wouldn't havedone so; but that had been much her own fault, she was quite convincedof it now. 

"Mr. Dane went to the city on this morning's train, " she said in amoment, "so I have not seen him. "

"I'm going there, " answered Kittie. "Mrs. Dane's, I mean. If Ernestineis there, I'll come back by here and tell you, and if I don't comeyou'll know that I haven't heard anything. "

They both felt that nothing would be heard, but each said good-byecheerfully, and Kittie hurried away. 

Mrs. Dane was a dear, motherly-hearted lady who had no children of herown, and consequently felt a warm interest in any one's else. She hadkept a watchful, loving eye on the Dering girls, especially, sincetheir troubles, going to see them frequently, and dropping much comfortand encouragement in all that she said and did. When she saw Kittiecoming, she met her at the door, with a warm, cheery smile and inquiredgayly:

"Good morning, my dear; what is going to happen that you are withoutyour mate? and which one are you?"

Kittie laughed as she went up the neat little walk, with early violetsblooming either side, but Mrs. Dane noticed that she looked anxiouslybeyond her, into the house, and that her face was pale and worried, something unheard of, for either of the twins. 

"I'm Kittie, and Kat was too busy to come, " answered Kittie, as theywent in, and she wondered what she should say next. 

"It looks strange to ever see you without each other, " said Mrs. Dane, detecting an uneasiness. "All well at home, dear?"

"Yes'm, pretty well, except spring fever. "

"I saw Ernestine down town yesterday afternoon, and I thought she lookedquite pale, but very pretty, " continued Mrs. Dane. 

"Yes'm, " said Kittie again, with her heart jumping into her throat. "Mama is going to have her go out to Mrs. Raymond's for two weeks. Hasshe been by here this morning?"

"Not that I have seen. I should think it a very good plan for her to bein the country a while, if she will only be quiet; the Raymond home is avery lovely one. I notice here lately that she coughs a good deal. "

"Yes'm, " answered Kittie, guiltily conscious that she hadn't noticed it. "I hope it isn't much though. "

"Nothing more than a spring cold, I fancy; you must all be very careful. Now, my dear, take off your hat, and stay to dinner with me. I'm allalone, to-day. "

"I should like to; thank you, Mrs. Dane, but Bea will be expecting mehome, and I guess I had better go, " said Kittie, so intenselydisappointed with her call that she could hardly keep the tears back. Soshe went, and Mrs. Dane soliloquized, as she recalled the troubled face. "Something the matter, I am quite positive; and those poor, dear, bravelittle girls all alone. I shall go over this evening and see if I amneeded. "

Kat was at the gate, and started out the moment she saw Kittie coming, to meet her. She was quite as ashy colored as ever brown-faced, rosy-cheeked Kat could be, and she was trembling as with a fit of ague, and as Kittie saw her, the question died on her lips, and she could onlylook her fear, as Kat burst forth:--

"She hasn't come--don't know anything about her; but Bea went up in thegarret this morning to open the windows, and ever since she came down, she's been crying and pretty near fainted; won't tell me anything, andI thought you never would come. What _shall_ we do?"

"Oh, I don't know; why didn't I tell Mrs. Dane? I felt as if I oughtto, " cried Kittie, standing still in despair for a moment; then pullingoff her hat and shawl, she put them on her sister in a hurry. 

"There, Kat, run; I'm so tired, you can go the fastest; go to Mr. Phillips, ask him to take Prince and go for mama, quick;" and, without asecond thought, Kat dashed down the street at her most breathless flyingspeed, not caring who saw, or what they thought, and feeling as thoughshe had done the right thing. Kittie hurried into the house; she wasalarmed, indeed, at the violence of Bea's crying, and after trying invain to find some cause, or give some comfort, gave up in despair. 

"Don't ask me, " Bea would cry, when questioned. "I can't tell! Oh, ifmama was only here! What shall I do?"

"I've sent for her!" exclaimed Kittie, with a great sigh of relief. "Kathas gone now to ask Mr. Phillips, and she'll be here this afternoon, Iknow. "

Bea looked up for an instant, with a flash of relief in her face, thenburst out again, crying more bitterly than ever, and with a vehemencethat shook her from head to foot. 

"What ever can it be?" thought Kittie, flying up stairs, and off to thegarret in desperation; but, pausing as she reached the door, andshaking with a sudden terror. What if Ernestine should be in there dead, or something? She shook and hesitated, but finally opened the door, forKittie was brave, and looked in!

Nothing seemed to be the matter. The sunshine came warmly in at thewindows and illumined every corner. The little black trunk stood there, but it was closed, and she did not notice it, though she went allaround, and amazed to find nothing out of place. Over in an unusedcorner, for the garret was very large, stood a big dry-goods box thatMr. Dering had long kept some things packed in, but on the very daybefore his sudden death, he had been up in the garret, unnailed theheavy cover, and gone to the bottom for some things that he wanted, andthen hurried away, intending to repack, and nail up, on his return; butin the little act, was a mighty working of Providence, or fate; the boxhad remained just so, with its dislodged contents at its side, thelittle black trunk among them, and the garret having been rarely enteredduring the winter, it had not been noticed or remedied. 

Kittie, happening to glance that way, saw it; and with a vague idea thatErnestine might be in the box, went over to it, pushed the little blacktrunk nearer, and stood on it to look in; but saw only a confused lot ofthings, tumbled up in her father's haste, and so she got down, and leftthe garret slowly, more perplexed and bewildered than ever. 

As she went down the stairs, she heard, she surely heard an unmistakablemoan, that stopped her in an instant, and made her heart beat fast andloud with terror; and as she stood and listened, it came again, and itdid not come from the garret either. 

As I said, Kittie was brave. Kat would have torn wildly down stairs, anddeclared that the house was haunted; but she stood there, quite still, until that feeble moan came again; then with a thought as quick aslightning, she cleared the remaining steps with one jump, flew acrossthe hall, and into the spare room!

There, at last, after all these hours of painful anxiety and fright, there, so near, that by simply opening an unused door, they would havefound her--lay Ernestine. 

As Kittie burst into the room, Ernestine tossed her arms above her head, and uttered that feeble moan again; and too astonished to utter a wordof any kind, Kittie saw that she was unconscious, that her face wasscarlet with fever, and that the dazed, wide open eyes recognizednothing. 

She never exactly remembered how she got down stairs, and told Bea; orhow it happened that Kat was with them when they went back; she onlyknew that Bea threw down her handkerchief, and worked swift and silent, that she helped, and that Kat flew off again to bring Mrs. Dane, and wasback in just a moment, for that lady, being so forcibly impressed withan idea that something was wrong, had started over, and met Kat just afew minutes after she came tearing out of the gate. 

It did not take long to get Ernestine into her own bed, to bathe herburning hands and face, and smooth her tangled hair, that lay all overthe pillow like stray sun-beams. She submitted passively to all of it, and appeared to notice no one, except now and then to turn her eyes toMrs. Dane, with a puzzled, pleading look, and mutter with a wistfullonging: "It isn't so, is it? I know it isn't;" then would drift intosome unintelligible murmurings, or lay quiet with no expression of anykind in her face. 

"She was perfectly well yesterday, " said Bea, in answer to Mrs. Dane'squestions. "She came up stairs singing, about four o'clock, and that wasthe last we saw of her until just now, when Kittie found her. "

"Poor child! What did you do all night?"

"We sat up until twelve o'clock, and it seemed like a week nearly, Olivesaid, and we all hoped that she had gone to spend the night with you, and that is what kept us from giving up entirely. We were having alittle argument when she left us, " added Bea, dropping her eyes, butfeeling that a little explanation was necessary. "So we thought perhapsshe went off without saying anything, so as to frighten us. "

Kittie looked at Bea in curious amazement. She was so rejoiced thatErnestine was found, that she wondered why Bea should still be so whiteand tremble, and sit down every once in a while, as though too faint tostand. Finally concluding that it was fatigue and worrying, Kittiehurried down to the kitchen, built a fire, and had water boiling for teain a hurry, and in just a little while, brought a cup of thatinvigorating beverage, and insisted on Bea's drinking it, and another, too, if she could. 

"How kind you are, " said Bea, looking grateful, and trying to smile, butfailing utterly. "You better go and drink some yourself. Where is Kat?"

"She rushed right off again to tell Olive, " answered Kittie, sittingdown on the floor. "Poor dear, she will be tired to death. Oh, Bea, aren't you glad we found her before mama came?"

Bea nodded yes, and hid her face in the tea-cup, while Kittie hearingKat down stairs, hurried down to have a social and rejoicing cup of teawith her. 

Mrs. Dering arrived late in the afternoon; the twins threw open the biggate, shouting the good news as they did so, and Prince came gayly upthe old familiar drive with a joyous whisk of his tail, and a loud neighof recognition, and as Kittie and Kat fell to hugging him wildly, Mrs. Dering hurried into the house, and was met by Bea at the door. 

"Were is she? What does it all mean?" cried the terrified mother. 

"She was in the spare room--sick--we found her this afternoon, " answeredBea, speaking as though the words choked her. "Come--come into thesitting-room, mama, and--let me tell you. "

Mrs. Dering followed, with a terrible fear at her heart, and was obligedto sit down, so trembling and faint was she; and Beatrice meeting thatanguished, imploring look, could not utter a word, but simply put herhand in her pocket, and drew out a worn, faded letter. 

Mrs. Dering looked at it for an instant, then uttered a broken cry, andthrew out her hands beseechingly. 

"Oh, Beatrice! my daughter! Not that, not that, surely!"

"Yes, mama. "

Mrs. Dering dropped her face in her hands with a moan that came from thedepths of her heart, and overcome with the confirmation of her fears, Bea sank into a chair and burst into tears; and nothing but her sobswere heard for several moments. 

Under all circumstances, Mrs. Dering was a woman of wonderful selfcontrol; so in a moment she looked up and asked:

"Do you know anything about it?"

"No, mama, " answered Bea, then repeated the circumstances in the case, adding, with a look of loving sympathy into the grief-stricken faceopposite, "When I went up into the garret this morning, I saw one ofyour trunks open, and your green silk and white lawn lying on the floorby the little black trunk, which was open also, and the letter wasdropped on the floor, and I knew she had been there, and thought perhapsit was something she had left, so I read--only a part of it, and--oh, mama!"

Mrs. Dering vouchsafed no explanation, as Bea paused with a sob; butlooked out of the window with a world of puzzled inquiry in her face, and murmured to herself:

"How did it ever come out of the box?"

"Papa, " answered Bea, catching the words, "He was up there the daybefore he--died, and I remember when he came down with what he wanted, he said that he had gone clear to the bottom of the big box for it, andthat he would put things back, and nail it up when he came back home, and they were all left just that way, mama; and oh--please tell me--isit true?"

"Yes, Beatrice, it is true, too true, " answered Mrs. Dering, sadly, thenwent up stairs, and left Bea sobbing on the lounge. 

In just a few minutes Kittie came running in, and paused astonished atthe sitting-room door, but as she surveyed her sister, and heard howbitterly she was sobbing, she went in and knelt by the lounge. 

"Bea, can't you tell me yet, what the matter is?"

"No-o, " sobbed Bea. 

"Well, please tell me just one thing: I'm so frightened about something, I don't know what. But, is Ernestine very very sick, and is that whatyou are crying about? or--or, _has_ something happened that we don'tknow anything about? Please tell me just this, Bea, and I won't ask anymore. "

"Yes, something has, " was Bea's answer; and Kittie went sorrowfully awayto tell Kat and Olive not to rejoice so much, yet. 

It was quite late that night, and every one had gone to bed, except Mrs. Dering, who sat sleeplessly beside the bed, holding Ernestine's hothand, and Bea, who nestled quietly in a large rocking chair, equallysleepless, and looking alternately from the loving, watchful face ofmother, to the flushed, restless one on the pillow, while the big tearsdropped unheeded down her cheeks. 

The doctor had said, on leaving in the evening, that when Ernestineawoke, she would be herself, and for some time Mrs. Dering had beenwatching the feverish flush give way to pallor, and the restless, uneasytossing to quiet slumber, and she knew, that before long, Ernestinewould be herself, and ask a dreaded question. The house was painfullystill. Bea shivered as the clock's ticking sounded loudly through thehalls, and thought of last night when they all stood there, in thatsame room, and wondered where Ernestine was; and Mrs. Dering shivered, though, for quite another reason, for her mind held far differentmemories. 

Just then, Ernestine turned, as though awakening, and the clock began tostrike twelve. Through the dozen slow strokes she did not move again, but the moment they ceased, she moaned just a little bit, in a feeble, tired way, and opened her eyes. 

At the same instant, Mrs. Dering held a tiny glass to her lips, raisedthe pillow and said quietly:

"Drink, dear. "

Ernestine did so, unresistingly, and lay for several minutes perfectlyquiet, with her eyes wide open; and then they began to grow startled, and went suddenly to Bea's face, and stopped there. Bea smiled, notwithstanding she was trembling violently, and leaving her seat, cameto the bed. But Ernestine was not noticing her now; she was looking allabout the room in a terrified way, and suddenly sat up straight in bed, pushed her hair back, and saw her mother. For an instant she did notseem to know what it was she wanted; but it came to her suddenly, andwith a beseeching cry, she threw out her arms. 

"Oh, mama, mama! is it true? Am I somebody else's child?"

Bea turned away, and fell into her chair again, unable to see thatpitiful, anguished face; and Mrs. Dering, sitting down on the bed, drewthe trembling figure closely to her heart. 

"My darling, you are my own dear little girl--" but Ernestineinterrupted, with a pitiful cry:

"Oh! tell me if that letter is so, or if it means some other Ernestine?just tell me that, quick, mama, oh please do!"

What could Mrs. Dering say, with those clinging arms about her neck, andthat pleading face, and the despairing eyes never moving from hers?

"You are dreaming, darling, " she began soothingly; but Ernestine threwher head back, and her voice rose to a terrified shriek:

"You won't tell me; you won't tell me, " she cried wildly. "Oh, I mustknow if it is true; I must. Oh, mama, say it isn't; tell me that you aremy own mama, that the letter don't mean me; oh mama! mama!"

"Ernestine, darling, listen;" said Mrs. Dering, with the tears runningdown her pale face. "You shall know the truth. You have been my littlegirl ever since you were two months old, but your own mother gave you tome just before she went to heaven, and she was my--;" but it wasneedless to say more; Ernestine gave a little moan, and dropped herhead, and Mrs. Dering was sobbing, as she laid her back on the pillow;while Bea ran for some water. 

CHAPTER XII. 

THE STORY. 

Mrs. Dering and Ernestine were alone; Ernestine had asked for the storyof her own, or rather her mother's life, and now lay with her faceturned away, while Mrs. Dering held her hand in that loving clasp, andbegan telling it quietly:

"We were all living in Virginia at the time, dear. Papa Dering livedwith his uncle Ridley. Uncle Walter Dering lived in Staunton, and yourmama's home and mine, also in the city, were only a little way apart, and we saw a great deal of each other. Florence Granger was her name, and she was the most beautiful girl that I have ever seen, except thelittle daughter here, who is going to be her mother's very image. Shewas lovable in every way, but possessed a restless, impatient, dissatisfied spirit, that brought her much unhappiness. She constantlyyearned for some kind of life that would give her eager, uncontrollablespirits free play; she hated the restraints of home, and frequentlythrew out dark hints to me of what she would do sometimes, when theright moment presented itself. I often begged her to give up suchrestless longings, and be happy at home; for she certainly had a lovelyone, and might have been the happiest of girls; but she would kiss meand laugh, and call me 'dear little proper Bess, ' and really be so happyand gay for a time that I would lose my fears, and think her threats alllively fun. About this time, papa and I became engaged, and I, confidingto him a secret that I had discovered, that his brother Walter lovedFlorence, he said that Walter had confessed it to him but that hedespaired of ever gaining her heart, and that he dreaded the depressingeffect of discouragement on his health, for Walter was very delicate. SoI promised to do all I could towards helping him, and finding out thetrue state of Florence's heart towards him, and I did so quitesuccessfully, though it has always been a source of bitterest regret tome. I found, with very little trouble that she had no thought or feelingof love for him, and one day, when she was thoughtlessly laughing at himfor something, I told her, in a hasty moment, how he loved her, and howthe disappointment might kill him. I never can forget how surprised andgrieved she looked, nor how bitterly I regretted my hastiness, for amore tender-hearted girl never lived, and it was impossible to guess, how, in a generous, impulsive moment, she might sacrifice herself. Thatnight she stayed with me, and both Walter and papa called; and I saw inan instant, that in her generous pity, she was going to do a work thatcould never be undone. Poor Walter was nearly beside himself with joyand encouragement. She sang for him, and oh, how many times have I goneback to that night, when you have been singing to me, with your mother'svoice, dear. She promised to ride with him next day, and as papa watchedthem, he said to me in great relief: 'She loves him, and they will behappy;' and I could only say 'I hope so, truly, ' and pray that I mightbe forgiven for what I had done; for I knew she did not love him. 

"In a few days, she came rushing to me in a perfect passion of stormy, bitter tears, and frightened me greatly with her fierce vehemence. Shedeclared that she hated him, that she could not endure the sight of him, and yet, not half an hour before, she had promised to marry him, andnow, if I did not say something to comfort her, she would do somethingdreadful, sure. I was perfectly at a loss what to say or do, andtrembled for the end of it all, but I knew the only way to quiet herwould be to appeal to her pity and tenderness, so I talked and talkedfor a great while about him, how he loved her, how the disappointmentnow would surely kill him, how happy we would be as sisters whenmarried, and how we would all go to Europe if papa inherited uncleCongreve's estate; and so finally won her over to a more pleasing viewof the case. In the weeks that followed, I had the same thing to domany, many times, and found it more difficult to accomplish each time. She was wildly rebellious, and in an unguarded moment, let fall herpassion for stage life, and then confided to me all her former plans, hopes, and aspirations. She had been in correspondence with members ofthe profession and had many secret plans laid for carrying out herideas. She showed me several letters from Clarence Clare, then a famousactor, and I did not dream, could not even realize then, how far mattershad gone. She was to have joined his troupe when he reached Staunton, left her home and gone out into the world under an assumed name, totaste and know its bitterness, when it was all too late. I was in anagony of fear, and besought her to give it up and think, before she lostherself to home and friends, but she told me I need not worry, she hadwritten to him that morning that she was to be married, and could notfulfill her plans with him, and that I could rest in peace, for she wasgoing to be a really good girl now, and settle down as properly as Icould wish. I believed her, and was entirely deceived by the quiet, contented aspect that marked her from that day, and was overjoyed at thehappiness that seemed to come to her as the day of our double marriagedrew near. She spent much of her time with Walter, and the rest almostentirely with me, and we had hours of delightful chatter of when wewould be sisters indeed, and always live together, for papa and Walterwere devoted brothers. 

"It all comes back to me now, so terribly clear, how the day before ourwedding came, and Florence was in such a state of ecstatic happiness;she left me in the evening with the warmest, tenderest kisses andembraces, and said she would be on hand early in the morning, for wewere to be married at ten o'clock. While we were at breakfast nextmorning, her maid came over in great haste, to know if she was with me, that she wasn't at home, and evidently had not been, as her room wasuntouched. It seemed for a moment that I could not move, so great wasthe terror that possessed me; then I jumped up, snatched a hat and ranall the way to her home, without once thinking of amazed observers. Shewas gone. There was a little note left for me, and no word for any oneelse; she had gone with Clarence Clare, who had arrived the day before, and, perhaps, even as I stood there reading her hurried words, she wasbeing married, or was already his wife. I can never tell you of thetempest of grief that fell upon two homes, or how we ever got throughthat wretched day. Papa came to me for just a few minutes, then hurriedoff to stay with Walter who had not spoken, or betrayed any signs ofconsciousness since the word of Florence's desertion reached him. Weknew from that day that he could not live, and though he was never ill, he died slowly, lingering with us only about six months, and his lastwords were to papa and me, spoken just before he died: 'If she evercomes back, tell her I forgave her, that I loved her to the last, andprayed God every hour that she might be happy. '

"A little while after, papa and I were married, and moved to Richmond. He received nothing from Uncle Congreve, you know, so we both had to goto work, and we were very happy, for papa was brave, strong andhonorable, and he prospered; so that in a little while we had a cosyhome of our own, and envied no one their riches. 

"Mr. And Mrs. Granger, your grandparents, were very proud, and leftStaunton, rather than stay where their daughter had disgraced them, andwe never knew where they went to, or whether they are still living ornot. Two years went by, and in that time I sent many a loving, anxiousthought to Florence, where ever she was, and wondered if we were ever tomeet again; and one night my answer came to me. It was a bitter night, snowing hard and blowing fiercely. Papa and I, were sitting in our cosy, warm room, and Bea was sleeping, rosy and sweet, in her little crib, when there came the feeblest kind of a ring at the door-bell, and papawent to the door. In just a second he called me, and I hurried there, tofind him holding a basket, with a queer bundle in it, and lookingamazed out into the night; then he set it down suddenly, and hurriedout. I had not collected my thoughts, when he came in again with afainting figure in his arms; a woman with a face uncovered, and we bothrecognized her in an instant. She was nearly dead with exposure, and itwas a long time before she was able to speak a word, but we doctored herstrongly, got her into a hot bed, and after a while she opened her eyes, and knew us. When she could talk, she told us how unhappy she had been;how, after submitting to her husband's neglect and the trials of stagelife, for over a year, she had left him, and as soon as her baby wasborn, began looking for us. She was very feeble, and after leaving herburden on the steps, fainted in the snow before reaching the gate. "

Here Ernestine, who had lain motionless all the while, gave a quick sob, and shivered from head to foot, and bending down to kiss her tenderly, Mrs. Dering went on:

"She died with us, dear, in just a few days after, and with her lastbreath, gave you to me; and ever since I took you, a tiny, little babefrom her arms, you have been just as dear to me as though God had sentyou to me, my very own. "

Ernestine was shivering violently, and as Mrs. Dering finished, hid herface deeper in the pillow with a pitiful heart-broken moan, that washard to hear, and Mrs. Dering said softly:

"Here, darling, in this box are some things that were to belong to you, in case you ever knew the truth, though with her last breath, yourmother besought us to keep it from you, if we could, and we have tried, that being one reason why we afterwards left Virginia for New YorkState. But God knows best; it is right for you to know, or it would nothave been so. The ring in the box is the one given by Walter to yourmother, and she wished you, if you ever knew the story, to wear it. "

Some time after Mrs. Dering left the room, Ernestine slowly turned herhead, looked at the box, and with trembling fingers lifted the cover. The first thing that met her eyes, was a picture, an exquisite facepainted on porcelain, and she uttered a smothered cry as she looked atthe face of her mother, of whom she was the living image. There was thesame brown eyes, with their slender arches; the same fine straight nose, and wilful, determined mouth, and the same halo of sunny hair, coveringthe proud little head. But Ernestine, looking at it then, thought of thesweet, true, dear woman, she had always called mother, and threw it downwith a bitter cry of pain. There was also a tiny note, written in abeautiful dashing hand, and after a while she read it slowly. 

 "BESS DARLING:

 "You have always been my good angel, and I could cry if I wasn't so happy, to think how I am going to disappoint you after all. But you mustn't mind, only think how happy I am going to be, for Clarence loves me! I will be his wife when you read this, and oh Bess I cannot help but be happy then. Tell Walter he must not care, he never would have been happy with me, because I could not love him. I hope you will not feel badly when you get this; have a gay wedding, and think how happy I am. I expect it is wrong to run off this way, but I've always done things wrong, I always will, but it might have been different, if my mother had loved home more, society less, and been as true and good to me as a mother, as you have been as a friend. 

 "FLORENCE. "

There were many little trinkets, beside the diamond ring, whichErnestine declared she could never wear; and in a tiny little box, with"My Baby, " written on the top, were four round bits of gold, each a fivedollar piece. 

It really seemed as though the girls could never recover from the shock. Their faces were pale and tear-stained for many days; and only Olive, whose self-control was greatest, could venture into Ernestine'spresence, without bursting into tears, and having to beat a hastyretreat. Every fault that she had ever possessed, they lost sight ofnow; they only thought how they all loved her, how happy and sweet shehad always been about home, how lovely she was, and how dreadful itwould be if they were to lose her. For Mrs. Dering had told them somethings that she had not told Ernestine, among them these:

"You have many times noticed how much more careful and anxious I havebeen of Ernestine's health than of yours. That was because I knew thatGod had given me my girls well and strong, and poor little Ernestinecame, burdened with the fatal seeds of her mother's disease, consumption. I have known always, for the doctor told me, that she wouldbecome its victim sooner or later; and that if she lived to womanhood, he would be surprised. I also saw in early childhood, that she hadinherited her mother's restless, eager, dissatisfied disposition, thoughthe difference in her home life has modified it greatly; and knowing theweakness that would assail her if she lived, I have battled against it, and prayed that she might ever be spared a trial, or that a greaterstrength would be hers, than had been her mother's. As she has grownolder, I have been grieved and troubled, beyond expression, to watch thegrowth of that spirit, and of a selfishness, that must have been herfather's, as not an atom of it belonged to her mother, and many times Iwould have been discouraged utterly, if I had not had the faith that Godwould do all things for the best, and that all He wanted was for me todo all in my power, and trust the rest to Him. "

As the days went by, Ernestine did not seem to grow any better, andfriends hearing she was ill, began making kindly visits of sympathy, andwere greatly surprised to find her so terribly altered by the briefillness. At first she refused to see any one; but Mrs. Dering asked ifshe could not, as they would think it strange, and she immediatelyassented. 

It was indeed sad to look at her face, changed so suddenly from itslaughing, exquisite beauty to such a pallid, hollow-eyed, heart-brokenlook, and every one pitied, and wondered, and privately talked it over. Miss Strong, who had industriously circulated the report of her visit, with many additions and wonderfully sly, meaning looks, now felt calledupon to supply the public with a reason, so she told her dearest friendthat Ernestine Dering had had a foolish little love affair, and brokenher heart over it; and before twenty-four hours, the whole of Canfieldhad heard from, or told their dearest friend, the same thing; while Mrs. Dane, and a few other sensible ladies, were indignantly denying it, withwhat success, persons who deny rash stories, can guess. 

"I declare, " cried Kat one day in desperation, "I can't bear to go upstairs. I just dream about how sad she looks, and I can't keep fromcrying just to think that she really isn't our sister any morethan--than Susie Darrow or any of the other girls. Oh, Kittie, justsuppose we were ever to find out that we were not sisters, or belongedto somebody else, or something dreadful!"

Kittie gave a long, expressive shiver, and hugged her "fac-simile" byway of satisfaction, for such a dreadful thought. 

"How often we have wondered where she got her lovely hair and eyes, " shesaid slowly. "And how many times we fretted because mama watched her so, and seemed to humor her, where she never did us. I expect we have mademama unhappy lots of times by acting jealous that way. "

"Like as not, " answered Kat remorsefully. "It's all dreadful, every bitof it. I'd give worlds if it had never happened. "

They all tried, by every way in their power, to win Ernestine back tosomething of her old self; but it seemed impossible. She spent hours andhours by herself, just sitting with her hands folded, looking out of thewindow with no sign of life or interest in her colorless face, andrarely speaking. Just brooding, brooding, and nursing her grief, untilthe doctor said she must go away, take a complete change, and then shewould come back herself again. He accepted the lover-story, as indeed, most every one did, for surely the general behavior and symptoms weremuch the same, and then, besides, what _could_ the reason be if itwasn't that?

Ernestine was perfectly indifferent about a visit anywhere. She wasselfish in her grief, as in everything else, and took no interest in alltheir plans for her, expressing no satisfaction at the decision thatBea should go with her, and saying that she did not care when or wherethey went. 

One afternoon, Kittie went up stairs and found her writing something andcrying bitterly over it. She so seldom cried, that Kittie was alarmed, but Ernestine said it was only because she was nervous; then put herwriting away, and took her old, listless attitude in the chair by thewindow. 

That night Olive heard something; she was sure that she did, and startedup in bed for a moment to listen, but everything was perfectly still, soin a moment she lay down again, but could not get to sleep until longafter the whistle had blown for the midnight train that went through tothe city. 

Next morning Ernestine did not come to breakfast, but it was nothingunusual, so Kittie fixed a tempting waiter and took it up stairs. 

In a few minutes she called "mama, " in a frightened way, and Mrs. Deringinstantly sprang up, followed by the girls, and ran up stairs. 

Since her sickness, Ernestine had slept alone, and Bea had gone overwith Olive; so now, as they hurried in, they saw her untumbled bed, withjust the slight pressure made where she had lain down, as though gone tobed for the night; everything else was unchanged. Mrs. Dering sanktrembling into a chair, and pointed to a paper lying on the table. Olive reached it, and read aloud in a frightened, awe-struck voice:

 "DARLING MAMA:

 "I'm going away; I can't stay, and oh please don't look for me; for I could not come back. It seems as though my heart was broken, and it nearly made me crazy to think that I was all alone in the world, except a wicked, cruel father. Oh, I never knew how much I loved you all, until I found that I was nothing--neither daughter nor sister. I have taken the twenty dollars in gold, and fifteen dollars that I saved from my teaching, and I will go some where and work for my living. I know it will grieve you, and that is all that has kept me from going before; but I could not stand it any longer; something made me go. Oh, please forgive me, and do not look for me. I love you all so much, and it nearly broke my heart to look at the girls, and think they were all sisters, and you their own mama, while I was nothing. Don't grieve for me, please, but do love me. 

 "ERNESTINE. "

CHAPTER XIII. 

A YEAR LATER. 

Kathleen was sitting in the swing, and idly pushing a hole in the sawdust, with the toe of her shoe; while Katherine sat on a log hemming ahandkerchief, a red rose stuck in her hair, and much thoughtfulness inher face. 

"I think it's too horrible to think about, " said the former, suddenly, and with a vinegary aspect of countenance. 

"He may be nice, " returned the latter, consolingly, though with muchevident distaste to the fact. 

"Who cares, and then besides, I bet he isn't. "

"You mustn't bet. "

"I will. You may be nice, and proper, and so awfully prim, if you wantto, but I sha'n't. "

"You're nearly fifteen. "

"Suppose I am. Besides I'm not; it's three months yet. "

"Well, " said Kittie, after a pause, and turning a corner in herhandkerchief with great nicety, "I suppose since it's settled, that hewill be here in a few days. Bea has fixed his room so pretty. "

"Pooh! I bet he'll never notice it, and he'll be an everlasting bother, and we'll never have any more fun; and I'm going to tell him the minutehe gets here, that I hate him; and I hope that'll make him happy andwant to stay, " exclaimed Kat vehemently. 

"Besides, " continued Kittie, as placidly as though nothing wasdisturbing the serenity of her sister, "you see, my dear, how it willhelp mama. "

Any remark of a like character, would, at any time, reduce the girlsfrom the most active rebellion to passive acquiescence; and Katimmediately lost her ferocious determination and looked reflective, asshe recalled the dear face they loved, with its pale patient sweetness, and the gray hair that had all come into the brown locks within the lastyear, since Ernestine went away. 

"Well, " she said in a moment, and beginning to swing, "I suppose it'sall right, but I wish he wasn't so old. Twenty! my goodness! He'll beforever lecturing us and reading solemn books, because I know he'ssolemn; sick people always are, and everything will have to be poky andstill to suit him, and I think it's abominable!"

"Exactly, " answered Kittie, with a nod of agreement. "But Kat, there'sone splendid big thing to offset all those little horrid ones; why don'tyou think of that?"

"Well, I do, and I'm most tickled to death, that mama won't have toteach any more; poor, dear, blessed mama, she's most tired and worriedto death;" and Kat's face grew very tender as she swung and thought overit all. 

"Oh Kat!" cried Kittie, with a sudden vehemence, though the questionthat hung on her lips had been asked countless times in the past year, "Where do you suppose Ernestine is?"

Kat stopped the swing, and faced her sister with a sudden decision. 

"I think, " she said slowly, "Kittie, I think she's--dead!"

"Oh no! you don't surely! She can't be!" cried Kittie in terror; for noone had ever hazarded that cruel belief before. "Our Ernestine dead! Icouldn't believe it, and I think it would kill mama, if she thought wewould never find her again. "

"But I can't help but feel so, " said Kat sadly. "Just think of hergetting into New York in the night, and not knowing anything where togo. I just know something dreadful happened, because we never can findone thing about her after she got there. "

"But I don't believe she's dead!" exclaimed Kittie firmly. "I wouldn'tbelieve it if I wanted to; and I think some time, or somehow, we willfind her, or she will come back to us. "

"Well I hope so I'm sure, for it will never seem right without her, "said Kat. "Seems to me, we all lived so happy, with no troubles of anykind, until all of a sudden, then everything happens all at once. Homehas never seemed the same since papa died. "

"When you look back and think how things have changed, don't it seemstrange, " said Kittie, dropping her sewing and looking pensively off atthe wood-pile. "It seems so funny, to think that Miss Howard is married, and that people live in the little old school-house. 

"Didn't we used to have fun there?"

"Yes, we did, and we're getting old dreadful fast, " said Kat, ruefully. 

"I can't imagine anything more dreadful than getting to be young ladies, and having to wear long dresses, and done-up hair, and always be politeand proper. I think it's horrible to be nearly fifteen!"

Kittie loved fun as much as Kat, but she was not quite so frolicsome inher tastes, nor so averse to a graceful train, or a lady-like structureof hair. In fact, she had many ideas of ideal young-ladyhood that wouldhave amazed and dismayed her twin, had they been known. Any one who knewthem well was no longer at a loss to know which was which, for while inchildhood they had been too similar to ever be distinguished, the comingyears brought different ideas to each, and left their print in looks andmanner. Kat was wildly rebellious at the thought of growing up; shewanted to remain in the blissful days of short hair and dresses, whenshe could race with anybody, jump a fence, climb trees, and in every waybe as boyish as she could, to pay up for being a girl. Consequently shealways had a fly-away, unsettled look about her, rebelled at thelengthened dresses, insisted on wearing her hair in a flying braid, wouldn't be induced to cultivate ease and grace, and altogether was aswild and unconquerable on the threshold of fifteen as she had been inthe freedom of twelve. Kittie, on the contrary, had a decided love forgrace, and the ease of a cultivated young lady. She did her hair up invarious and complicated fashions, occasionally practiced with a train, and had learned to bow with the latest grace and twist. She rememberedErnestine's little graceful ways, and profited by the remembrance, thereby driving Kat to the verge of desperation, by giving frequentlectures on the necessity of sitting still gracefully, and walkingwithout a skip or jump every third step. With all their little growingdifferences, they were just as devoted and inseparable as ever. Kittiewould sit and sew with a lady-like air, and a posy in her belt, whileKat would lounge in the window-seat, and read aloud, or amuse them withnonsense; or, if they went out on the pond, Kittie would wear hergloves and ply her oar with an eye to grace, while Kat would, perhaps, be encased in a sun-bonnet, or be bareheaded and row as if on a contractto outdo the champion club in existence. In their work was the samelittle mark of distinction, and so now-a-days it was very easy to tellwhich was Kittie and which was Kat. 

It was just a year since Ernestine had gone, and such a long, sad, hopeless year! Not a clue or trace of any kind could they find exceptthat she had gone to New York. The Canfield ticket agent had had hissuspicions when a lady had bought a ticket and gone on the midnighttrain; but it was none of his business, to be sure; so she had gone onher way unmolested, and farther than that, they knew nothing. Where shewent on reaching the city, no one knew, though no mode of search hadbeen left untried, and no expense spared, either by Mrs. Dering, or therelatives and friends who so heartily sympathized in her heart-brokensearch. There was nothing, from himself to the last dollar he possessed, that Mr. Congreve did not offer; and Jean sent a tear-stained note witha crisp ten dollars--all she had, and saying: "Mama, please spend it tofind Ernestine; and I ask God every few minutes, if He won't please letus have her again. "

But it had all been in vain. In the long days when Ernestine had sat andthought and grieved, she must have matured her plans well, or else shehad gone blindly forth, on the wild impulse of despair, and beenswallowed in the black wickedness of the great city, into which shewent. It was a ceaseless question in the anxious hearts of those wholoved her, but there never came any answer; and the days and weeksdragged into months until the year had rolled around, and they had heardnothing. The name of the lost became more precious than ever, and manythings she had left behind, that all spoke so eloquently of her, theytreasured as priceless, and wet them with many a sad tear, while heartand lips pleaded for the return of the dear one. The year of anxiety hadtold on Mrs. Dering, for the soft brown hair was thickly lined withgrey, and there was a never-dying look of prayerful anxiety in her face, as though in some way, her life-work had been remiss and the fault ofthis one, gone astray, lay at her door. Still she never once gave uphope that at some time God would return this dear one to her, though itrequired constant prayer to strengthen the faith that trembled on thethreshold of this affliction. 

Under the strain of mental and physical work, her health was slowlygiving way, and for many weeks there had been the anxious question, "what can be done to relieve mama?" and there had been no waydiscovered, for money was low, and each one already doing her utmost; soMrs. Dering held her position at the seminary, and was obliged tocontent herself with one visit home a week, and sometimes not eventhat, for the hack drive was so fatiguing, and besides, it cost fiftycents every time. 

Well, after all, God never fails to give us something to cheer ourflagging steps, never fails to know when a burdened child is fallingwith its load, and never fails to take the hand outstretched to Him, andhelp that child along!

In the midst of an anxious controversy one evening, when Mrs. Dering hadjust arrived home, and was lying exhausted on the lounge; Olive came infrom the store and brought a letter with the Boston post mark; it provedto be from Mr. Dering's cousin, a wealthy widow, with an only son whosehealth was failing, and for whom the doctor prescribed a summer's rest, and relief from study. She had once visited the Dering home, and saidshe knew of no one, to whom she would so willingly trust her boy, in hisdelicate health, as to Robert's wife. The price named for his board waslavishly liberal, and filled the long felt want, for it would more thanadmit of mother's being free and at home to rest, and regain her ownhealth and strength. 

So this was what Kat, viewing matters from a personal standpoint, thought was "horrible, " and what Kittie tried to reconcile her to byreviewing the good things that would result from it. Bea was to roomwith Olive, and the sunny front room was fixed for the coming invalid, and it is a pity that all the knick-knacks arranged by the girls couldnot have retained all the curious conjectures uttered in their hearing, as to what the coming cousin was apt to be like, and repeated them tothat same person. 

He came one evening, a tall pale youth, with very black eyes, quietgentlemanly manners, and a faint suspicion of a mustache, and Katinstantly declared that she didn't like him. 

"I told you he'd be solemn, and look like a preacher. I bet he's gotconsumption too, and I suppose he'll call me Kathleen and ask me if I'mprepared to die?" she exclaimed, after they had met him and he had goneto his room. 

"I think he's very polite and nice, " said Bea. 

"He looks very intelligent, " added Olive, with a pleasing idea in hermind, of having some one with whom she could discuss her books, andstudy Latin. 

"Some fun in him I know, " laughed Kittie. "And what nice manners he has, and black eyes, I wonder if he appreciates them?"

"Poor fellow, just hear him cough, " exclaimed Bea in sympathy. "Girls, what have you nice for supper?"

"Slap-jacks, " answered Kat grimly. "I hope he'll enjoy them. "

"O Kat, you surely have something else besides cakes, " cried Bea indismay. "It'll never do, he's used to everything nice. "

"Suppose he is, we're not, and he mustn't expect it here. "

"Dear me, " explained Bea, starting for the kitchen; but Kittieinterrupted her, with the consoling remark:

"It's all right, I made a nice pudding with sugar sauce, and there iscold meat and hot biscuit, that's enough, mama said so. "

"I bet you he'll sit and mope in his room, and cry for his mama, dearlittle boy, I'll give him a sugar horn, " laughed Kat, then caught herbreath suddenly, and flushed scarlet, for there in the door stood thenew cousin, also rather flushed, but with his eyes twinkling, and hisarms full of things. 

"Thank you, Cousin Kathleen, " he said gravely; "I really hadn't thoughtof crying, but your promise is tempting, I'll begin in a few moments. Inthe meantime, here are some messages that mother sent with her love. Sheselected for each, as she remembered you, and I hope that none of youhave so changed in tastes, that these little things will be out ofkeeping. "

His genial tone, and winning smile were very taking, and made every onefeel acquainted at once, so Bea pushed an easy chair forward, sayingwith a smile:

"We'll try hard to be grateful, Cousin Ralph. Come, take this easy chairand deliver your messages, you see we're anxious. "

He did so, holding up a splendid copy of Dante. 

"For Olive, whom mother remembers as a studious book-loving little girl, and hoped she would enjoy this grand work. "

"I shall indeed, " cried Olive joyfully. "How kind your mother is. "

"She is indeed, " answered Ralph. "And very dear to me, I assure you. "

"This for Beatrice, " he added, holding up a stout package; "I assureyou, the interior is more attractive than the exterior, " he said with alaugh; and so Bea found it, for there was a box of kid gloves, a dozenbeautiful handkerchiefs, with her monogram worked in the corner, and abeautiful set of jet jewelry. 

Bea was in ecstasies, and put on her ornaments at once, while Ralph nextunfastened two boxes exactly alike and handed them, with their contentsexposed, to their owners. 

"For Kittie, " he said, "and Kathleen. "

Kittie gave a little scream of delight, but Kat simply made a bow, andsaid "Thanks, " with the grace of a ramrod, and shut her box with a snap. They were two beautiful chains and lockets, of ebony and gold, with theletters "K. D. " in raised letters on the lockets, and a picture of thegiver within. Ralph took no notice of Kat's reception of the gift, butcomplimented Kittie as she put hers on, and then asked for Mrs. Dering. 

Her gift was a dress of heavy black silk, with everything necessary toits make-up, and yards and yards of beautiful lace and fringe for itstrimming. Oh, how happy the girls were over that, and how splendid itwould seem to see mama once more in an elegant dress, such as she usedto wear. 

For Ernestine, were elegantly bound copies of the old composers, and forJeanie an exquisite little pearl ring. The one of these, Mrs. Deringlaid away with tears, and a silent prayer, such as came from her heartevery hour of the day for the absent one; the other, she sent with along, loving letter to the little girl in Virginia, and thought, with agrateful heart, that the bitterest sorrows have a drop of joy somewhere, for the doctors had said that Jeanie could be cured. 

In just a little while, it seemed as though Ralph had been with themalways, such a comfort as he was to all, and such a genial, jovialcompanion as he became on all occasions. Mrs. Dering, or Aunt Elizabeth, he very soon lifted to the niche of affection next to his mother's; andshe, in turn, loved him as an own son, and in his ambitious moments, gave him long earnest talks, wherein she drew his unremembered UncleRobert, as an example of truth, manhood and honor, such as she hoped tosee him follow. 

For Bea, who now revelled in all the bliss of being a young lady nearlyeighteen, he exerted all his most courtly politeness and gallantmanners, and she wondered how she had ever gotten on without himbefore. 

To Olive, he was confidential, and finally won her to the same state. They studied, read and discussed, disagreed and argued, but he wasalways so polite, and ready to gracefully yield when a contested pointcould not be settled, that Olive grew ashamed of her more abrupt mannersand hasty speech, and so the intimacy helped her in more ways than one. He confided to her all his ambitious plans of being a great lawyer, andhis impatience at having to drop his studies for so many months. She, inturn, confided to him her longing for artistic study, and made himashamed by the patience with which she had laid aside her cherishedplans, and given all her time to the work which necessity demanded. Sotheir friendship prospered. 

To Kittie, he was invaluable, and a more devoted brother and sistersurely never lived. They boated, walked, sang, played and, in short, were almost constantly together. He was quick to discover the girlishlonging to be graceful, refined and accomplished, and he helped hermuch, both as an example of polished, polite manners, and by rehearsingfor her many of the accomplishments and graces of ladies of hisacquaintance. And many times had he said to her in their little chats:"You have a constant example before you, Kittie, in your mother. She isso refined, and such a true, noble woman, I would love to see you likeher. "

To Kat, he was nothing, unless it was a stumbling block in the way ofher happiness. She didn't like him, and was furiously jealous of theflourishing friendship between him and Kittie. He had not been solemnand poky, as she had prophesied, and the fact nettled her. She nevercould make him angry, though she left no way untried, and that wasexasperating. He was always catching her at a disadvantage, and what shethought was anger at the fact, was, in truth, wounded pride. She was asrude as she dared be, and never lost an opportunity to sharp-shoot; andwhile he realized the impoliteness of a return shot, the temptation wastoo great to resist; so they had some lively skirmishes, in all goodhumor on his side, but in lively anger on hers. 

He came out on the porch one day, and found her sitting on the steps, with her hat tilted over her eyes, and a generally woe-begone look inher whole attitude; and they had just had a wordy battle out at thepond. 

"Why, Kathleen, " he exclaimed, in mock penitence, "is it possible? Why, I never meant to hurt your feelings. I didn't suppose they could behurt. "

"No; they can't, by you, " retorted Kat, knocking off her hat, andshowing her eyes scornfully bright and dry. "Whenever you speak, Iconsider the source, and it never amounts to much. "

"Is it possible?" he exclaimed, laughing. "When I speak to you, you arethe source of every inspiring word. "

"Then I am heartily ashamed of myself. "

"I don't wonder; I'm often ashamed of you. "

"You're hideous, " cried Kat, fiercely. "I wonder if you have the ghostof an idea how horrible you are, Ralph Tremayne?"

"No, indeed, I never found any one impolite enough to tell me; but youwill, I'm sure. "

"Don't judge my politeness by your own!"

"I can't for you have none, " he rejoined coolly. 

Kat could have slapped him with a relish, and like as not, if he hadbeen nearer her own age she would have tried it. As it was, she lookedinto his laughing eyes and knew that she was angry, and he was not, therefore he would win, for a cool head can think a great deal fasterthan a hot one; so she turned on her heel with a contemptuous spin, andleft him. 

That afternoon she heard Ralph and Kittie planning a walk to the woodsnext day, and her jealous heart ached and burned fiercely. Howdespicable he was to take all of Kittie's time, and make himself such aparagon in her eyes, that she could talk of no one else. Kat shook herhead in dire vengeance, and might have cried if she hadn't been tooproud. But just then Kittie said:

"I don't know, Ralph, whether I can go or not; I have some sewing that Iought to do; you remember how I tore my dress the last time we wentboating? well, I ought to darn it, you see. "

"No, I don't happen to see, unless you take it out in the woods and mendit, while I make you a crown and put it on your head as queen ofindustrious girls. Violets would be very becoming to your brown hair andwinsome face. "

"What nonsense!" muttered Kat, in disgust, while all the time her heartached. "Wouldn't it be a joke if he was saying all those things to meinstead of Kittie, and didn't know the difference. He wouldn't think Ihad a winsome face if I was the last girl alive, and yet I'm the moralimage of Kittie. "

"Perhaps I can find time to darn my dress this afternoon, and if I do, then I'll go to-morrow, " Kittie was saying, and then in a few momentsRalph went away. The moment he was gone Kat came around into the arbor, and threw herself on the grass. 

"Now then, Kittie. "

"Well, my dear. "

"I would just like to know a thing or two?"

"What, for instance?"

"Who are you going with to-morrow? That abomination wants you to go withhim, and I've set my heart on having you go with me down town. Youhaven't been with me, since the dear knows when, and upon my word, Ifeel real bad. "

"I'll mend my dress now, go with Ralph in the morning, and you in theafternoon, " smiled Kittie sweetly. 

"No you don't, " cried Kat, sitting up. "I'd like to have you to myselffor one day, at least. If he can get you from me so much in six weeks, by the end of summer you'll be beyond speaking to me. "

"Oh, Kat, " cried Kittie reproachfully. "How can you?"

"Well, will you go with me to-morrow?"

"My dress--"

"I'll darn your old dress right now. Will you?"

"I don't believe you care half as much for me to go, as you do to spiteRalph, " said Kittie thoughtfully, and to Kat's amazement she suddenlyrealized that this was so, not but what she really wanted Kittie, butthe predominant desire was to spite Ralph, and she was bound to do itnow, so she ran off for the dress, brought it back, and darned itimmaculately, whereupon Kittie felt that the thing was settled. 

Kat was jubilant all the evening, and seized the first opportunity ofannouncing the change in the programme. Shortly after they came into thesitting-room, Ralph asked:

"Is the dress darned, Kittie?"

"Yes, it is, and I darned it, and Kittie's going down town with meto-morrow, " answered Kat glibly. 

Ralph lifted his eye-brows with a smile, instantly detecting the littlespite-work. 

"Why, did I speak to you?"

"Believe not; I spoke to you. "

"Suppose you try the novelty of speaking when you're spoken to. "

"I generally do; also at any other time that I take a notion. I've doneit all my life, and it'll take more than you to stop me. "

"Some people talk to hear themselves. "

"So I've heard, and I'm quite convinced that no one has a better rightto come under that head than yourself. "

"Quite true; I'm amazed at your powers of penetration. Perhaps you alsoobserved that I rank only a little ways below my illustrious cousin, Kathleen. "

"I'm not your cousin, thank goodness. "

"Don't thank anything with which you have so little acquaintance; it'sapt to never be appreciated. "

"No acquaintance that I have with anything, or any body troubles me asmuch as the acquaintance that I have with you. "

"You have my sympathy, for I'm troubled with the same feeling. "

"Do hush, " exclaimed Kittie. "It's perfectly awful the way you two dotalk. Ralph, come play chess. Kat, I'm astonished. "

"I don't wonder; so am I; but I never had such an object to deal withbefore, so no wonder I do some unusual things, " cried Kat, and bouncedout of the room to hide the tears that would come; for Kittie's voicewas reproof, and she took Ralph's part, and that was altogether toomuch!

CHAPTER XIV. 

STUDY OR PLAY?

Olive was standing at the window, with a thoughtful face. Any one whoremembered seeing her on the porch one evening, a little over two yearsago, and recalled her face then, compared to what it was now, would havesaid in incredulous amaze:

"What a change!"

She was now nearly seventeen, though she looked every day of twenty, both in face and figure. There was such a settled, purposeful look inthe face, and so much strength and soul looking out from the eyes, thathad been used to scowling fiercely, so much determination expressed inthe mouth, that had caught the trick of smiling much more readily thanit once had. Nor was this all of the change either; she had come torealize that care in personal attire, and a study of pleasing others, could frame the most unattractive in attractive guise, and indeed, theyhad done their work for her. Instead of wearing the very things that sheknew did not harmonize with her peculiar dark complexion, she studiedwhat was becoming. Her hair, which was luxuriously long and heavy, shewore in such a manner as to soften the severe outline to head and face, and waved it deeply in front, so that curly tendrils of hair lessenedthe height of her too-high brow, and gave a more girlish look to thethoughtful face. In short, the Olive of two years ago was not much likethe Olive of to-day, and in what her character had changed, I leave youto find out for yourself. 

She stood there, looking out, and something pleasing, evidently, caughther eye, for it brightened suddenly, then in a moment a look of regretchased the smile from her face. 

"What is it, dear?" inquired Mrs. Dering. 

"What, mama?"

"The faces of my girls are so dear to me, that I can read them quickly. Something pleased you, then brought an after-thought that was sad. Whatwas it?"

"Nothing. I only saw Bea coming with Dr. Barnett. "

"Ah!" The same smile, followed by a look of regret and a little sighcrossed Mrs. Dering's face, and she sewed a little faster than before, as if her thoughts were suddenly quickened by something. Dr. WalterBarnett had come to Canfield within the past year, rented a modestlittle office, hung out a neat, pretty sign to indicate that all personsafflicted with any of the ills to which flesh is heir, would always findhim ready and anxious to do his best; and after a patient, hopefulstruggle, he had now settled in a flourishing practise; for he wascourteous and gentle, ready and willing, and always inspired thechildren with a liking, which old Dr. Potts, with his blue glasses andloud voice, could never do. Dr. Walter also taught the bible-class, andwon the flinty hearts of the congregation, and the susceptible ones ofthe young ladies. He also frequently walked home with Beatrice Dering, and had fallen into the way of occasionally stopping in the evenings, ifhe happened to be passing and saw them in the yard. The old house, withits shady porches, clambering vines, and sheltering trees, made himthink of his own home he said, and then Mrs. Dering, with her sweet, motherly ways, and surrounded by such lovely attractions, seemed tocharm him; and Ralph Tremayne possessed a wonderful influence over himsome way, which served to bring him there more frequently than he couldhave found an excuse for coming, if that young gentleman had not formeda part of the household. 

Bea came up stairs in a little while, with a lovely color in her cheeks, and looking very bewitching indeed, with her soft bright eyes, a posyin her belt, and a merry smile on her lips. 

"I met Dr. Barnett" she said, taking off her hat, and smoothing out theribbons with a little thoughtful air; "he was just going to see thatpoor widow's little girl, who broke her back last week, and he stoppedwhile I gathered some flowers for him to take to her. He is going tocure her if he can, and not charge anything. Isn't it good and kind inhim, mama?"

"Yes, dear, very. He did not tell you so, did he?"

"Oh no; he's too modest. Mrs. Dane told me. She went to see the littlegirl, and took some things, for they are very poor, you know; and themother told her, and just cried when she told how good and kind he was, and how he talked, and told Katie stories, when she was afraid to haveher back fixed. "

"He is a very estimable young man, and a true Christian, I think, " saidMrs. Dering, watching Bea's animated face as she talked, and noticingthat there was no touch of embarrassment or any trace of color, as sherehearsed her friend's praise. 

"When I gave him the flowers, " added Bea, taking the posy from her belt, and sniffing at the fragrant leaves, "he gave me these, and said wewould exchange. He has a little window-garden in his office. I thinkthat is so nice, --and these grew in it; they need some water now, poorlittle things. Hand me that vase, Olive! There!"

Mrs. Dering went on with her sewing, and her heart, ever young, wentback to the blissful days of her own life, like these in which Bea nowlived, and she thought, with a smile:

"Bless the dear innocent little heart. She doesn't suspect yet how happyshe is, nor what precious meaning the little exchange of posies willsoon take unto themselves. "

Olive was thinking of Bea's happy face and blithe laugh, and after hersister had gone singing from the room, she came over to her mother'sside, and sat down on a stool there. 

"Mama, are you glad?"

"Yes, dear, both glad and sad. A mother always dreads the time when shemust begin to prepare herself to have her children leave her; but itmust come, so if she can know that their new choice will bring themhappiness, it, of course, lessens the pain which comes with losing them. Dr. Barnett is a good Christian, a perfect gentleman, and I think heloves Beatrice. I also think she is quite unconscious of it as yet, andI am very glad. I hope it will continue so. She is young yet, my dearlittle girl, and when she becomes aware of the new love, then I must becontent with second place, and I do not want it to come yet. "

"And, mama--"

"Well, dear. "

"I want to speak of something that may be all imagination on my part, and will take your word to settle it. But don't you think Ralph thinks agreat deal of Kittie?"

"Yes, he does; but it is all a brotherly feeling, anything else would benonsense! Why, they're nothing but children!" said Mrs. Dering a littlesharply. 

"I know Kittie is, and she never thinks of such a thing any more than agenuine kitten; but Ralph is twenty, mama, " said Olive. 

"I know; and very old for his age in many things, but at heart he isnothing but a boy. He has always been at home with his mother, and hasan almost girlish love and preference for ladies' society. He and Kittieare genial in amusements, just as you and he are in books and ambitions. They love each other as brother and sister, but as nothing more. Ishould be sorely displeased if any other idea should ever reach either. "

"It never will through me, " said Olive. She then sat silent for a longtime, and finally breaking the pause, by saying:

"Mama, do you remember, one night a long time ago, when we were alltelling disappointments?"

"Yes, quite well. "

"Of course, it was all nonsense; but I have often thought since, thatsome time, I would tell you what I wanted to do. "

"And am I to hear now?"

Olive smiled, and looked a little wistful. 

"Yes, I guess I will tell you, though it will be no surprise to you. Iwant to study, but I can never do it in Canfield. When I was fourteen, Ifirst thought of going to the city and studying in Cooper's Instituteand coming home for over Sunday, and I began to save up my money for it. The money that I gave to papa was that, and I was at work on a head totake with me, because I thought perhaps I would have to have a trialpicture. I knew I couldn't go then, because I was too young andinexperienced; but I'm older now, and if you would only say that you arewilling, so that I could begin to put just a little money away everymonth--"

Mrs. Dering laid down her sewing, and looked in amaze at Olive's face, which had become so enthusiastic as she put her plea in a voice thattrembled in its eagerness. 

"My dear child, I had thought of that same thing for you. "

"Why, mama!"

"I had, indeed; and is it possible that it has been your own thought anddesire for so long? You have so cheerfully given up your own work anddone that less tasteful, and so patiently waited for the time to comewhen you could use your own money, that I had decided on just thisthing, and will draw enough money from the bank to send you. I have adear old friend in the city who would be delighted to have you boardwith her during the week, and now that Ralph is here, you can and shallbe spared from your work, and shall take a rest in doing the work thatyou love. "

Olive looked speechless. Her eyes were full of sparkling tears, and herlips trembling with a smile. She evidently did not know what to say forsome moments, then she exclaimed:

"Oh, mama! Is it really so? It seems too good to believe, I had almostgiven up hope, for it didn't seem as if I ever could go. Oh, how I willstudy and draw, so as to make money and make my name;" and overcome withjoy and a desire to shed some happy tears, Olive jumped up and ran out. 

In a day or two, however, something happened that deferred Olive'sstudies for a while longer. It was from Jean, a long letter, full oflove and longings to see them all, and long reports of what the doctorswere doing for her, and how she could stand straight now without hercrutch, and would soon be able to take a step. And after all that, shebegan about Uncle Ridley: how kind and good he was, how she hadeverything she could think of; how they loved each other; and then camethis piece of news:

"He wants one of the girls to come and make a visit, mama. He's oftensaid so; but the other day he told me to write for one of them, whichever one I wanted, and he would pay her expenses. Now you know I nevercould choose which of the girls I'd love to see most, because I want tosee them all so very much. But I think he wants to see Olive; he's oftensaid so; and he's asked me so much about her, and said he'd like to knowher because she was so impudent to him. Why was she? Do you know, mama?I think it's so strange, when he's such a dear, darling uncle. Anyhow, Ithink it would please him very much if she would come, and oh, how veryhappy I would be. Tell me what you think about it, and I do hope she'llcome; and if she can't, please let one of the others, and hurry and letme know. I can hardly wait. "

"Of course you'll go, " said Kittie, when the letter was finished, andthe question open to discussion. 

"To be sure, " said Kat. "Olive, you're a lucky girl. I wish I had beenimpudent to him. "

"I always have wanted to see Congreve Hall, " said Bea, with a littlesigh. "How grand it would seem to live in a magnificent place that had aname to it. I suppose you'll stay a long time, Olive?"

"I wish he wanted any of you, " said Olive, "and I believe he does. It'sall Jeanie's notion, his wanting me. Fix Bea up, mama, and let her go. Ihave something else on my mind. "

But Mrs. Dering shook her head. "I think Jean is right, " she said. "Uncle Ridley is a peculiar old man and he thinks Olive is much like theCongreves; he told me so himself, and I think he wants you for thatreason. "

So great was Olive's consternation, that she sprang right up from herseat in dismay. 

"Oh, mama! I want to see Jean; you know I do, but I can't give up myplan any longer; I can't. You don't think I ought to, do you?"

"What do you think about it, Olive?"

"I don't know; I think it's too bad, " cried Olive; then fled from theroom, as she always did when she found her emotions getting the masteryover her. 

"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Kat, in sympathy. "It is too bad when herheart is so set on her studies. That's the disadvantage of having atalent. Don't you suppose Uncle Ridley would be satisfied with me? I'ddo my level best to be like the Congreves, if that is such an attractionto him. "

"He'd go crazy with such a whirligig about as you, " said Bea, a littleenvious of Olive's good luck. "I think I might go. I'm the oldest, anddear me, how I would enjoy it!"

"I would love to have you all go, " said Mrs. Dering, thoughtfullycreasing the letter in her fingers. "Congreve Hall was papa's home, andI would enjoy having you see it, would love to go myself, in fact, andwhen I think of my dear precious little girl, it seems as though I mustgo. But that cannot be, so it need not be thought of. As to Olive, UncleRidley is peculiar and quick, and he took a fancy to her, and if hergoing to see them would give him any pleasure, I am only too glad andwilling to have her go. I am sorry the invitation came just now for thechild has waited so patiently to study and work on her art, that delaywill be a sore disappointment to her. But she will see through itrightly I am sure and be willing to wait a little longer. "

"Mama, " said Kat, reflectively, "don't you think Olive has changed very, very much?"

"Yes, dear. "

"And especially since Ernestine went away. Why?" asked Kittie. 

Mrs. Dering sighed and looked sad; she always did when Ernestine's namewas mentioned. 

"Olive's was a very unhappy disposition then, a great deal more so thanshe is now, " she said. "What attractions she possessed, she hid by herfaults; she did not try to please any one, but took her time in envyingErnestine's natural beauty and power to please. She made herself bitter, morose, and unattractive, then blamed others for showing any preferencefor her sisters. I think the lesson poor Ernestine taught was one thatshe took to heart deeply, and has profited much by. "

"I notice she does not dislike Uncle Ridley as much as she used to, "said Bea, smiling and looking very happy all at once as she caught sightof a gentleman coming up the shady walk. "Mama, here comes Dr. Barnett. I promised him some more flowers to take to little Katie Gregg. If he isnot in a hurry I shall ask him in; and, Kat, I advise you to put up yourhair. It looks like an Indian's that way. "

"Who cares for old Barnett?" said Kat, as Bea flitted out. "My hairsuits myself, and if he don't like it, he can look at Kittie's. Hers isas proper as ten commandments, with a killing bow fastened right on anangle with her ear. Now here comes Ralph, and I'm off. Kittie come downto the pond, and let's take a row. "

"I will in a little while, " said Kittie, putting her sewing aside; "butRalph is going to help me with that example I couldn't get, and I'll dothat first, then I'll be down. "

"Well, I'll not look for you, " said Kat discontentedly. "After you getyour old example, there'll be something else, and then it'll be time toget dinner. I just abominate cousins!" and Kat slammed out of one door, just as Ralph came in at the other. 

No one saw Olive again during the day, but just before supper she camedown stairs and asked for mother. 

"I don't know, " said Kittie, flying about the kitchen with her big apronon. "She and Bea went down town this afternoon; I don't know whetherthey're back or not. If you're going in the sitting-room, tell Ralph tocome; he said he'd beat the eggs, if I'd make a puff-cake. "

So Olive went into the sitting-room, and sent Ralph out to the feminineemployment of egg-beating, then she stood by the window and lookedabsently out at the shadowy yard. She was going to Virginia; she haddecided on that, though the decision had cost some bitter tears and somestern reasoning; for her new plans, long held in check, were doublyprecious in the sudden promise of fulfillment, and her whole soul, starved out on book-keeping and dusty offices, begged for a revel in theart she loved so well. 

"After all, " she mused, deciding grimly to look at the best side ofthings, "Jean says there is a gallery of grand pictures at CongreveHall, and I suppose I can study and make copies of the ones that I like;and then"--the thought was a little distasteful to her--"I suppose I wasunjust to Mr. Congreve, and ought to make amends if I can. We do owe himmore than any amount of gratitude can ever repay, for all he's done forJean, and I suppose I ought to call him Uncle Ridley, and have the dressmade that he sent me; perhaps he'll recognize it;" then she laughed alittle, to think what he would say at discovering her just accepting thepresent made two years ago. 

"A laugh sounds encouraging; what brings it Olive?" asked Mrs. Dering, having entered noiselessly. 

"Nothing, I was just thinking, " answered Olive. "I will go, mama, because I cannot help but think that I ought to, I was just deciding inmy mind to call him Uncle Ridley, and have the black dress made. Howsoon shall I go?"

"I cannot tell yet; there is much that you will need done. I am veryglad that you have decided in this way, Olive dear, though I know it wasa sacrifice; but your art will become none the less precious throughdelay, and your decision shows a desire to retract some hasty judgments, and do justice to a peculiar old man, who, with all his faults andvagaries, has a heart as true as gold. "

"I guess that's it, " said Olive, with a little sigh; and then thesupper-bell rang. 

At the end of three weeks Olive was ready to go, and it was hard to tellwhether she was any more enthusiastic with the idea or not. After thefashion of all young girls, she could not help but be pleased to see theaccumulating pile of pretty things; to feel all the time that something, which might prove very pleasant, was going to happen; and that she wasthe cause of all the little bustle of preparation that filled the house, and engrossed the mind and hands of mother and sisters. There is alwayssomething, more or less exciting in the appearance of a trunk, and whenpacking time actually came, Olive found that she was beginning toindulge in some very pleasing anticipations. 

"I expect Jean has grown very tall, " said Bea one afternoon, as thegirls were all gathered in Olive's room, and the big trunk stood open inthe middle of the floor. 

"Probably wears long dresses, and does her hair in a chignogger, " saidKat, from a perch on the foot-board of the bed, where she rested in idlemoments. 

"'Tisn't to be supposed that she can be treated so like a young lady, and not get stuck up. Just to think of having a maid, and being calledMiss Dering, when you are only twelve. Hollo, Kittie! hand me that pileof skirts, and I'll fold them. "

"Dear me, " said Kittie, handing over the snowy starched heap. "You havesix white skirts, Olive, and three of them trimmed. I'd feel terriblyfixed up, and lady-like with so many. "

"Pooh! some girls have six dozen, with tucks, and ruffles and puffles onevery blessed one of them, " said Kat, making the starched cloth rattlewith her vigorous folding. 

"All nonsense, " assented Kittie, down on her knees before the trunk. "Now hand me the things and I'll pack. Kat, you're knocking everythingoff the table, the way you whisk those skirts around. Hand me the blackdress; that's the heaviest and must go in first. "

"Where's the other black tip?" asked Bea, who was trimming thetravelling hat. "There it is, you blew it behind the table with yourwhirlwind of skirts; hand it to me, Kat. "

"What fun it is to pack and go away, " said Kat, fishing out the desiredfeather with Olive's parasol. "You pack like a captain, Kittie. I'd mostlikely have put her best hat in the first thing, shoe polish next, andthen tumbled in anything that I happened to lay my hands on. Dear me, Iwish I was going. "

"I really think it's too bad that you haven't a party dress, Olive, "said Kittie, with some disapproval. 

"Whatever would she do with a party dress, " cried Kat, once moreenthroned on the foot-board. "Who'd give a party, I'd like to know? Oneold man, a little girl, and a pile of servants!"

"Young Mr. Congreve is there, " corrected Bea. 

"S'pose he is; and anyhow, I hope you'll snub him, Olive; he's going toown Congreve Hall, and it ought to have been papa's. If he was a decentman he wouldn't take it. How are you going to treat him?"

"I don't know;--yes, I like the feather that way; you ought to see hownicely my dress hangs, " said Olive, in a little flutter of pleasingexcitement. "Really, it's quite nice getting ready to go away. I onlywish the visit was over and done with, and all this preparation was forsending me off to study. "

"Don't worry about your studying, you're twice as smart now as any ofus, " said Bea, surveying her work, from its perch on her finger. "Nowtry this on, Olive, I've tipped the feather a little more to one side, and it looks more jaunty--just the thing too; isn't that becominggirls?"

"Perfectly mag!" exclaimed Kat, making an eye-glass of her hands, andfalling into a rapture of admiration that pretty near upset her from thefoot-board. 

"I declare, you're going to be very distinguished looking, Olive, " saidKittie, resting from her packing to survey, and pass an opinion. "And acocked hat is very becoming. The next thing we hear, you will becreating a sensation in Staunton that will shake the whole of Virginia. "

"Very likely, " laughed Olive; but she looked pleased, for there washonest admiration in each sister's voice; and, after all, it is no smallthing to be going off alone, with a trunk filled by loving hands, a newcocked hat that is becoming, and the pleasing thought of looking well inall respects, and perhaps "distinguished. "

The day for departure came at last; and in the afternoon sunshine, Olive, trunk and satchel stood on the porch, waiting for the expresswagon; and the front door stood open, and there was a great deal oflaughing and talking going on within, that sounded very gay and happy. Dr. Barnett had taken advantage of the little excitement to drop in, though he had been around only the evening before, and bid Olivegood-bye, with much ceremony and many good wishes; but no one seemed toobject to his being on hand again, for Bea looked her unconscioushappiness, and Mrs. Dering was cordial and kind, and the young doctorwas in a dream of bliss. 

"Where's Ralph?" exclaimed Olive, suddenly, when the real good-byemoment had fairly come; if such it could be called, when the wholefamily were going to the depôt with the young traveller. 

"He's gone, sure enough!" said Kittie, after some hasty and lustycalling had taken place. "I suppose he's gone on down to the train; butit's funny the wagon don't come. "

"I'll trot down to the gate and see if it is in sight, " volunteered Kat, who was obliged to keep moving as a vent to excitement; but just as shestarted, there rattled up to the gate, in great style, the handsomest ofCanfield's two hacks, and out of it sprang Ralph. 

"I wanted you to go off in style, " he said, well pleased with himselfwhen he saw Olive's delighted look. "Here cabby, is the trunk! Now, ladies--hollo, doctor! you going to the train?"

"Well, really, " said Dr. Barnett, hesitating, "I hadn't thought, but, ifMiss Olive will allow me, I'll be happy. "

He said Miss Olive, but, bless you! he looked right straight at MissBeatrice, and she smiled; and after that, neither ever knew whetherOlive was willing or not. 

"This is putting on style with a vengeance, " said Kat, as the ladiesseated themselves in the back, after the trunk had been tossed aloft. "People will think the whole family is departing for Europe. "

CHAPTER XV. 

CONGREVE HALL. 

"That's Olive! that's Olive! Oh I'm so glad; hurry James, there she is!"

It was an eager, childish voice, ringing joyfully through the Stauntondepôt, and making every one turn and smile at the speaker, who stood ina large carriage, running her eyes over the crowd that gathered as thetrain came in and stopped; and suddenly breaking into that joyful cry, as she watched for a face, which appeared among so many strange ones. 

"Yes, Miss Jean; the young lady in grey?"

"Yes, and hurry; she doesn't see us yet, " cried Jean, almost leapingfrom the carriage in her eager excitement, but James made his waythrough the crowd, and Olive suddenly found herself confronted by a tallman who lifted his hat. 

"Miss Dering? Miss Jean is in the carriage; may I take your satchel?This way, please. "

Olive followed, with her heart fluttering wildly; but almost before herquick eye discovered her little sister, James had paused at thecarriage, and Jean was laughing and crying on her neck. 

"Oh, Olive, I'm so glad and happy, I don't know what to do! I was soafraid you wouldn't come--and Uncle Ridley told me I mustn't get out ofthe carriage--and cousin Roger couldn't come with me--and I'm so gladyou came--and how is mama and the girls--why don't you say something?"

More than one person in hearing of this incoherent outburst, smiledbroadly, and James was obliged to lower his head as he assisted Oliveinto the carriage, lest the twinkle of amusement in his face, should marhis profound dignity and professed stolidity for anything outside hiscoachmanship. 

"Do tell me everything--quick, " cried Jean, as the carriage startedonward, and she took her seat on Olive's lap. "Didn't mama send herpicture, or something? I'd give twenty million dollars, if I had it, ifI could just see her for a few little minutes. I guess I've cried aboutfifty gallons of tears to see you all since I came here. "

"Cried, when you are getting well?" laughed Olive, just beginning torealize how much she had wanted to see the little sister, who was nowclinging to her with such joyous love. 

"Yes, indeed I have; and then Bettine gets so sorry for me, and says itisn't right, but then, I think God ought not to make me love mama andyou all so much, if He does not want me to cry to see you. "

"And are you ever so much better?" asked Olive. 

"Oh yes, I never use my crutch now, only a little cane to help me, andthe first time I really walk without any thing, I'm going to have mypicture taken for mama. "

"I will draw it, " exclaimed Olive. "If I am here, and have you standingamong the flowers. "

"How nice, " cried Jean; then drew back a little, and looked at hersister, as though just aware that she was really present. 

"Why, Olive, you--seems to me--I don't know; but then, aren't youchanged a good deal, someway?"

"I don't know; do you think I am?" asked Olive feeling the color creepinto her cheeks, at the honest childish question. 

"Yes, it seems to me you are;" and Jean looked undecided whether to goon. "You look so nice and pretty, and then you don't seem a bit cross;is it because you are glad to see me?"

"That's just exactly it, " cried Olive, moved to hide her face. 

"You don't know how glad I am to see you Jeanie, and if I'm cross asingle once while I'm here, you may scold me. "

"Oh, Olive, " and Jean laughed merrily. "The idea of my scolding you, that's too funny. Don't you ever get cross any more?"

"I try not, but then I do a great many times, I expect; I don't think Iwill now though, for I'm so glad to be with you, and find that you arejust the same little Jeanie, that mama and the girls love and want tosee so much. Why Kat said she expected you would have on long dresses, and be a young lady. "

"What a funny old girl she is, " cried Jean. "I'd give anything to hearher laugh once, it always sounds so pretty. "

The rest of the drive was taken up in hasty chattering, as though theywere going to be separated in just a few moments, and would leavesomething untold; and Olive never noticed that they had entered sometall gates, and were going up a white gravel road that wound in and outof the velvet-like lawn; and had quite forgotten her trepidation atmeeting Mr. Congreve, until they came to a stand still, and James, throwing open the carriage door, revealed the great entrance portico, the open doors and the cool dark interior to Congreve Hall. 

"Where is Uncle Ridley?" was Jean's first question, as James lifted herout and handed her cane, while Olive followed. 

"I do not know, Miss Jean, " James answered; but at that moment, Mr. Congreve became visible, advancing through the wide hall, and with herheart in a little jump, Olive passed Jean, entered the door, and methim, with outstretched hand. 

"How do you do, Uncle Ridley?"

"Uncle Ridley! God bless my soul, just listen, " cried the old man, thequizzical look on his face changing to one of blank delighted amazement, "Why, how do you do, my dear child; I didn't know but what you'd take myhead off the first thing; you've changed a great deal; yes, bless mysoul you have, but it's very becoming, it is indeed. Now come right inand sit down, and let me look at you, for I'd like to do so, yes Iwould. There--hum! ha, I never expected to get this close to you and besafe. And you called me Uncle Ridley too. Do it of your own accord?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Going to do it again?"

"If you want me to?"

"Want you to! God bless my soul! Just listen. I never was a downright, unvarnished heathen, but twice in my life; and I guess you know aboutboth of those times, and my first request is that you let them slidefrom your memory. The Lord knows I'd like to! Yes, child, I want you tocall me uncle, I hoped you would, but I wasn't going to ask you to. Before I die, I would like to be a better uncle to Robert's childrenthan I ever was to him. "

[Illustration: "WHY, HOW DO YOU DO, MY DEAR CHILD?"]

Olive found that what little of the old dislike that lingered in hermemory was fast vanishing, but before she could speak, he had whiskedback into his odd, abrupt way. 

"What stupids we are, to be sure; never ask you to take off your things, or wash your face; and it's dirty sure as I'm alive! but then, there'senough smoke and dust and stuff, between here and New York, to dirty thefaces of all the angel hosts, so you needn't mind; though I don'tsuppose you do; bless me! no; but then, you had better go and wash it. Jeanie, Olive is ready to go up stairs. "

Jean had been fluttering about Olive's chair in impatient eagerness, andnow signified her readiness to act as guide by seizing her hand andhurrying out. 

"I was so afraid he would keep you there to talk, " she said, as theywent up the wide stairway, and through the hall, that made Olive openher eyes in spite of herself, for she never had seen such lavish displayof elegance; and she was immediately seized with an old feeling ofawkward strangeness, that brought a defiant color to her face, as shethought of any one discovering that she was unused to any elegance orcustom that might reign in Congreve Hall. 

"Uncle Ridley had these rooms fixed for you, " said Jean, throwing opena large door, and ushering her in. "See, aren't they just beautiful?"

"Yes, indeed, " exclaimed Olive in quick delight; for they were certainlygems to make a girl rejoice. Three, with a bath-room, all complete, andlooking like Titania's bower in their delicate green coloring and bamboofurniture. The carpets were like untouched moss clinging fresh andsweet, to mother-rocks, and to Olive, it seemed almost like sacrilege totread upon it. From the wide, deep windows was a view, such as wouldhold the most careless gazer in a moment of ecstasy, and after one quickcry of artistic appreciation, Olive stood mutely entranced. Lookingdown, there were occasional glimpses of the magnificent lawn, with hereand there, a rustic seat, and white statue, thrown in bold relief asseen through the tossing foliage; and looking out, there showed the roadwinding down through the mountains, every now and then disappearing, until finally lost to view; and farther off, and down in the valley layStaunton, the busy, beautiful city, with its church spires rising intothe hazy atmosphere, as though in defiance to the lofty peaks toweringso much higher, and printing themselves against the sky in the fardistance, in jagged, immovable lines, that looked like relentless guardsto something beyond. 

"Do you want a maid?" asked Jean, breaking in upon her reverie. "UncleRidley sent to ask you. "

"A maid!" exclaimed Olive, feeling blank for a moment. Did she want amaid? No; of course she didn't. Ernestine would have taken a maid; oh, yes; and no one would ever thought but what she had had a maid anduntold luxuries all her life. But she--"No, I don't want any maid, " shesaid, almost sharply; then laughed as Jean looked grieved at the quicktone. "What would I do with a maid, Jeanie? She would know a great dealmore what to do than I, and that would never do, you know. Besides, I'mtoo used to dressing myself. Do all young ladies in Virginia havemaids?"

"All the rich ones, I guess. Miss Franc Murray, --she is going to marryCousin Roger, Bettine says; she has one, and scolds her like everythingwhen her hair isn't just right. "

"Why, how do you know?" laughed Olive. 

"I've been there lots of times. She comes here for me, and tells UncleRidley she loves me dearly; but Olive--"

"Yes. "

"When she comes, she stays just as long as she can; and if Cousin Rogerisn't around, she asks me where he is, and all about him; then I have topromise never to tell. "

"But you are telling me. "

"Oh, do you think that counts?" cried Jean in alarm. "She didn't evermean you; but then, perhaps, I better not tell any more until I askher, for I might break my word. "

Olive could not resist kissing the childish, innocent face that lookedmore like a little angel's than a child of nearly twelve. Surely, nomatter how Jean was surrounded, she would always retain that childishsweetness and purity, that had always made her seem more of heaven thanearth. Before she left Congreve Hall, Olive many times wondered that thechild was not spoiled, for her slightest wish was law, from the ownerdown to the last servant therein. 

When the bell rang for tea, it broke in upon an earnest cosy chatbetween the sisters, and made them reluctant to leave their seat in thetwilight; but Mr. Congreve was punctual to the letter, and required thesame of others, so Jean led the way in a moment, and together theydescended the stairs and entered the room. 

"Here you are, with your face clean, and a posy in your hair, " cried Mr. Congreve, from his stand on the rug. "Fine looking girl, you are, mydear, and a Congreve every inch of you. Come here, and shake a paw withyour Uncle Ridley. "

Olive did so, and conscious that another gentleman was standing outsidethe circle of light, and doubtless regarding her as she crossed the roomto "shake a paw, " she advanced, and tried not to think whether she wasdoing so gracefully or not. 

"That's the way, " exclaimed Mr. Congreve, drawing her into the brightestlight. "Roger, here is your Cousin Olive, and Olive, this is RogerRidley Congreve at your service, and we will suppose that you arecousins, for the want of a better name. Now shake hands and be friends, children. "

The gentleman came forward, and conscious that her face was growingscarlet, Olive bowed slightly, and murmured something wherein no wordswere audible, but his name, and grew furiously angry with herself, because she had become confused at the sight of a gentleman, where shehad expected to see only a youth. 

"Hoity-toity!" cried Mr. Congreve. "That will never do; call the boyRoger, Olive, and then we will go to supper. "

"The boy" smiled in a friendly fashion, and supposing that her confusionarose from the old gentleman's abrupt manner, he held out his hand. 

"Let us shake and be friendly, Cousin Olive, and it is a great wonderthat he doesn't command a kiss of greeting, on the strength of our beingcousins, more or less distantly removed. "

As he spoke, Olive looked up with a startled air, and unconscious thathe was holding her hand, she looked straight at him for several moments. Where had she ever seen that face and heard that voice?

"What's the matter?" cried Jean, for the memory was in some way painfulto her, and reflected itself so in her face. 

"Nothing, " exclaimed Olive, withdrawing her hand in mortified haste, andflushing scarlet again. 

"I thought perhaps you was getting ready to blow his head off, "exclaimed Mr. Congreve, as if in relief. "That's something the way youlooked at me, only not so ferocious, no! God bless my soul, no! I shouldhave run if it had been; I should indeed. Now let's go to supper. Jeanie, come and help your old uncle along, and Roger, you take yourCousin Olive, and lead the way. "

Olive was angry, mortified and confused, so her reception of Roger's armwas none too gracious, nor the few words she uttered in answer to whathe said, anything but barely audible and civil. Sensitively aware thatshe had allowed her feelings to get possession of her in thecommencement, she tried to rectify matters now, and grew so frigid thatthere was no thawing her out. Roger Congreve's eyes wore a constanttwinkle, and he looked at her so frequently that Olive defiantly feltthat he was laughing at her awkward confusion, and the thought made hisprospects towards gaining her friendship, none too bright. So on thewhole, supper was not a successful meal, for Mr. Congreve never, when atthe table, allowed any duty or pleasure to interfere with his eating;in consequence of which, he now devoted himself solely to chicken andchocolate, with only an occasional word, shot in edgeways, betweenbites. Jean was worried, because Olive looked so displeased, and as forMr. Congreve the younger, he soon found that their guest preferred tosay little or nothing, so allowed her to have her way. Immediately atthe close of the meal, Jean and Olive went up stairs. Mr. Congreve wentto sleep, with a big pocket handkerchief over his head, and his handsfolded solemnly over his waistcoat; and the young gentleman took himselfaway, --to see "Miss Murray, " said Jean, as she settled in Olive's lapfor a chat. "I know he's going there, because I heard him tell Carl, that's the gardener, to gather a beautiful bouquet. "

For the first week the two sisters were left entirely to themselves; andthey talked early and late, until every step travelled by each; duringtheir separation, had been gone over, and made familiar with, by theother. Almost every day, Jean wanted to hear Ernestine's story repeated, and each time it seemed to grieve her more, though she never failed tosay with a patient trusting faith--"She will come back, I know she will, for I ask God every night, and then somehow I always feel as though hehad said to me: 'Wait a little longer Jean, I'm not ready quite yet, ' soI'm waiting, Olive. "

Such perfect unquestioning faith, was something that Olive could notunderstand; and many times, when Jean spoke in such a simple trustingway, of how she talked to God, and told Him her little wants andworries, the elder sister would feel, with a thrill of fear, thatperhaps God was going to take onto Himself, the child, who, all hershort life had seemed to breath the air of Heaven more than of earth;and that up above, she would be united to the sister, who seemed lost tothem below. 

They wrote home nearly every day, and Olive's letters were suchblessings, for were they not filled, from beginning to end, with news ofJean! How she was growing strong and well, and would, perhaps, walkbefore Fall; how every one, from Uncle Ridley down, were devoted to her, and what a little dream of luxury her life was now, with every want orwish gratified, and everything that heart could wish. "And she is sosweet and unselfish, " writes Olive. "A very little angel she seems tome, mama, and every hour that I spend with her, helps me in some way. There is a little lesson for me in all her childish words, and I'm notashamed to tell you that I wish I could be more like her, though I nevercan. She seems apart some way, and is a constant study, that becomesmore precious to me every day. When I pray, it seems to me like animportant extra thing, that I must make some preparation for and beprecise about; and then I cannot help feeling, that perhaps I'm notheard after all, which I know is wrong; but it is so different withJean. She goes to God, as she would to you or papa, and never seems todoubt that every word is heard, and interested in. She is perfectlyconfident that Ernestine is coming back, and it gives me hope just to benear such perfect faith. "

After having given them several days of uninterrupted talk, Mr. Congrevebegan to lay claims to more of their time. He said he was lonesome forJean, and that he was not getting any better acquainted with Olive, thanas if she had staid at home; and that he thought they might talk to him, five minutes a day, at least; so after that, Jean spent her usual timewith him, and Olive brought bits of sewing, or a little sketch she mightbe working on, down to the library, and they spent hours together. Itwas a pleasing study, to see how this companionship with the girls, affected the crusty old gentleman. He would sit by the hour with Jean onhis knee, listening to her quaint childish talk, and looking alternatelyat her and at Olive, sketching or sewing, in the window seat; and thedear knows, what all he might be thinking about; but it must have beenmuch; for it sometimes got the better of him, in a way that made easybreathing difficult, and brought the red handkerchief into vigorous use;and then he would jump up, flurry about, as though he were scaring awhole brood of chickens from the room. 

"There! clear out, clear out; God bless my soul! I want to read and bequiet awhile. Jeanie, hunt up my glasses, and get down my book, andthen trot out, and be quick about it. "

The first time he dismissed them in this abrupt fashion, Olive left withdignity, and told Jean that they would not trouble him again; then shethought it over, and changed her mind, and went back the next day asusual, to his evident surprise, for he had noticed her heightened colorthe day before, and little expected to see her back; so that when shecame in, he gave vent to an astonished "humph!" and after a moment'spause, took one or two thoughtful turns around the room. 

"So you are determined to put up with the crusty old uncle, are you?" hesaid, pausing beside her, and looking down at the little sketch that wasgrowing under her busy fingers. "Well, my dear, I'll turn in and helpyou; but if I ever get too much like a bear to be called human, you mustremember that I'm getting old, and rather on the cross-grain; and notmind me any more than you can help. Now I just enjoy seeing you sit hereand sketch, " he went on more briskly. "Robert used to sit here in thisvery window, and draw mountains and valleys, and all sorts of things, and he did 'em well, though not as quick and true as you. I suppose hewould have been an artist, and a splendid good one, too; but then Ididn't want him to, so he gave it up, --a good boy was Robert, a splendidgood boy, and I hope the dear Lord will forgive me for ever forgettingwhat my duty was to him, and letting my thundering temper get the betterof me;--there now, draw away; I'm going off for a little tramp in thegarden, and I'll be back a great deal sooner than you'll want me, Iexpect;" and off he went, with a great racket, which he never failed tomake, when at all excited. 

One day, when he startled them with the usual abrupt dismissal, Olivedid not go; instead, she laid down her work, and took his book, whichwas a ponderous volume of essays. 

"Now, Uncle Ridley, don't you want me to read to you?"

"Read to me! God bless my soul! you read to me! Well, I never, I neverdid, to be sure; where's my snuff-box?--you read to me? No, I think not;you--you'll read too fast, and clatter your words up, and I'll have towork like a steam engine to keep up with you; no, on the whole, I guessnot, I guess not. "

Olive's first thought was to put the book down, and leave, but hersecond was the one she acted upon. 

"I'll read slow, " she said, "and as distinctly as I can; shall I try?"

"Well, humph! I guess you may; sit down there, and go slow, " with whichremark, he sat back in his chair, spread the red handkerchief over hisface, and Olive began to read. She read well, slowly and distinctly, and in a little while, the clear voice attracted another listener, whocame in quietly, and studied the young reader's thoughtful face, fromhis seat in a distant corner. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

UNDER THE SHADY GREEN-WOOD TREE. 

"Why, Kat, what is the matter?"

"Nothing; not a blessed thing; I'm just trying to see how big a goose Ican be. Where did you come from?"

"Down town. Why, child, you look as if you had been crying for hours. What is the matter?"

"Nothing, I tell you; take my word, and get out of the way, for I'mgoing to jump;" and down she came from above, with a swinging leap thatbrought a shower of half-ripe apples with her, and filled the air withleaves. "I had the dumps a little, and I've been sitting here in thetree crying over this book, until my nose is so big that I cannot seeover it, and my eyes ache terribly. "

"I should think they would, and you look dreadfully frowzled, " said Bea, smoothing down her own dress, with an air of self-approval. "Really, Kat--"

"Oh, come now, don't. I never was, and never will be a pink ofpropriety; and I would like to have a little peace and rest fromlectures. You and Kittie are getting so orderly and band-boxy-fied, thatthere's no pleasure living. I'll be glad when Olive comes back, for sheisn't quite so distressingly particular!" exclaimed Kat, who wasevidently in anything but the best of humors. 

"Well, don't get fussy about it, and I won't say any more, " promisedBea, with a conciliatory smile. "Besides, I've got some good news. Weare invited to Mrs. Raymond's picnic, next Wednesday!"

"You don't say so; hurrah!" cried Kat, in a sudden gale of delight, hereyes beginning to sparkle behind their still wet lashes. 

"What oceans of bliss! Who did you see?"

"Clara and Lou; they were just coming out here to invite us, when I metthem. It will be splendid; they are going ten miles out, and they supplycarriages for all, and there will be boating and dancing, and games, andjust everything delightful. "

Kat spun around on her heel enthusiastically, and threw a handful ofsmall apples into the air. "Of course there will, " she cried. "Raymonds'never do anything except in the most stylish way. That's the fun ofbeing rich. "

"I've just been down to call on Miss Barnett, " said Bea, stooping topick some imaginary burr from her dress. "They are invited, too. "

"Ah, indeed, " said Kat, with a mischievous chuckle, "I suppose ofcourse, you are glad, for you want Miss Barnett to have a good time, don't you?"

"Of course, " answered Bea, with much composure, and a little color. "Sheis a very pleasant young lady, and I would like to invite them here oneevening before she goes home. "

"Nothing to prevent that I can see, " said Kat, "unless the doctor shouldobject; but then, I don't think he will. "

"I shall ask mama, " continued Bea, without noticing the little slyremark. "I need not have many, about fifteen is enough; and we mighthave cake, you know. "

"Yes, cake and water; cheap and original; she won't expect much, for Isuppose the doctor has told her that we are poor as Job's turkey. "

"I suppose he has not, " corrected Bea, with some mild resentment. "Hewould have no occasion to mention us in connection with such a subject. Besides, we're not as poor as that. "

"Just go by it then, " laughed Kat. "But you shall have a party, dear, ifI have to paint the hole in the carpet and do all the work. We'll have aparty or die. "

Very much the same conclusion, only a little more mildly put, Mrs. Dering came to, when Bea made her modest request, with a pretty color inher face. 

"I know the parlor furniture is shabby, but it won't show so much atnight, " Bea explained. "And we might just have cake and coffee, youknow, mama. "

"Yes, dear, quite a nice little idea; and I think we can do it withoutany trouble, " answered Mrs. Dering, with that degree of motherlyinterest that is always so encouraging, "How many would you like tohave, and on what evening?"

"How good you are!" cried Bea, with a grateful hug, before she answeredany questions. "Twelve is enough, don't you think so! Perhaps we'd liketo dance, or if the moon should be very bright, we could play croquetand row on the pond. "

"Quite delightful ideas. And what evening, dear?"

"Next--the picnic is on Wednesday. I guess on Friday evening would bethe best; Miss Barnett goes home on the next Tuesday. "

"On Friday evening next. Well, I will spend the meantime studying up myreceipt-book, for its been a long time since I made a fancy cake, "laughed Mrs. Dering. "As to the parlor, I think you had better go rightin and see what is needed there. "

"So we had. Come on girls;" and off fluttered Bea, with a blithe song onher lips, and followed by Kittie and Kat, who were consumed withexcitement at the prospect of a picnic and party in one week. 

The parlors were quite large double rooms that had never been fullyfurnished, but had received chairs and a table or two, by degrees; alounge at one time, a couple of stools at another, and, lastly, awhat-not, at which point contributions towards furnishing them ceased. The carpet was rather shabby, from long use, and in one or two placeswas worn perfectly white, which must be remedied in some way, as theylooked alarmingly big. The girls opened the door, and Kat immediatelysaid:

"Curtains must be washed. "

"Sweeping the carpet with salt and tea-leaves brightens it up, " addedKittie, throwing open the blinds, and letting the sunlight in. 

"Goodness, how that makes everything look!" cried Bea, in sudden dismay. 

"But it doesn't shine at night, " said Kat, consolingly. "Bless me! howthe back of the big chair is worn! what shall we do?"

"Make a big tidy out of darning-cotton, " answered Kittie. "That's prettyand cheap, and I know a lovely stitch, and can put long fringe on. "

"Capital idea!" assented Kat, with an approving nod. 

"We'll have to bring something in out of the sitting-room, " said Bea, pushing the chairs around, with a view to making one fill the spacerequired by two. "There's so much room, and it makes things look soskimpy. "

"Don't have everything pushed back so, " advised Kittie, giving a twitchhere and a pull there, that brought things to more social angles, andleft less space. "See that fills out some, and in that corner we can putthe wire rack and fill it with flowers and vines. "

"But the rack is so rusty, " said Bea, only half relieved. 

"There's some green paint in the woodshed, and I'll touch it up, " saidKittie, becoming thoroughly interested. "We can make a lovelycorner-piece out of it; there's all those limestones down in the yard, and some of them are such pretty shapes, that will look lovely set inmoss, with vines going over them. We can hang the baskets in thewindows, and when the curtains are fresh and clean, it will look sopretty. "

"Hurrah for my better half, " cried Kat, with a flourish of her hat. "It's bliss to hear you talk. Your words are like wisdomand--butter-scotch. "

"What's in the wind?" asked an interested voice from the window. "Andwhat's all this I hear about limestones and butter-scotch and wisdom?"

"Don't you wish you knew?" said Kat, with an unfriendly grimace. 

"I do, indeed; and what's more I'm going to find out, because you willtell me, won't you, Posy?" said the new-comer, appealing to Bea, by thenickname which her prettily-colored cheeks had won from him. 

"Oh, yes, of course; and you must make yourself useful. I'm going togive a little company for Miss Barnett, " said Bea, with a friendly nod, to make up for Kat's ungraciousness. 

"So-ho, a party, and we are all going to make our _début_, are we?"asked Ralph, swinging himself into the open window, and taking a seat onthe sill, with an air of interest. "Good! Tell me what you want done, and I'm ready, Posy. "

"We'd like to have you take yourself off, somewhere, and stay till theday after the party, " was Kat's uncomplimentary remark. 

"And I would like to oblige you, my dear, but I couldn't stay away fromyou that long, " retorted Ralph. 

"I'm not your dear, shut up;" cried Kat, flapping her hat, and scowlingat the handsome, laughing face. 

"There, " cried Bea, with a suddenly exhausted air. "I don't see any wayof filling that big space between the windows in the back parlor. Dearme, I wish there was more furniture. "

"Bring the piano in, " advised Ralph. "That's just exactly the place forit, and it ought to be in here on such an occasion. "

"Goodness! To be sure, but there's the expense of moving, " exclaimedBea with a longing sigh. "And it would have to go back, of course. "

"Why? Leave it here, a parlor's the place for a piano. "

"Yes, but that would never do, " said Bea with decision. "We always sitin the other room, because it is so much more sunshiny and cozy thanthese big parlors; and it would seem deserted without the piano there, especially in the evenings. "

"Reasons very good and accepted, " assented Ralph. "The only thing leftto be done, is to decide whether or no, the piano shall come in and goback; ready, those who want it so;--and remember, I'm going to attend toit. Now then: yea or nay?"

"Yea, " cried the girls, in one delighted breath; after which, Beaornamented him with a rose-bud, in token of her thanks, Kittie beameduntold gratitude upon him, and Kat remarked with condescension: "You canbe a first-rate trump, when you take a notion. "

"I'm overcome, " said Ralph, with both hands over his heart, and leavinghis seat to make an extravagant bow--"To receive a bud from Posy, asmile from Kittie, and the assurance from my unconquerable Kathleen, that I can be a trump; is too much; I therefore hope you will excuse mefor leaving you somewhat abruptly, ladies;" and out of the window hewent with a flying leap, and Kat, watching him stroll down the yard, made another astonishing admission:

"He's very handsome, if he is such a bother, " she said, putting on herhat with a reflective air. "I don't know, but what he might become quitecivilized, if he staid here long enough. "

Between the picnic and the party, the girls were kept pretty busy forthe next few days, and the house was very merry, for busy hands withhappy hearts, bring chattering tongues and joyous laughter; and thesesummer days were gleeful ones. 

To be sure, some accidents happened, both comical and disastrous, and infact, it never was otherwise, if anything was going on in which Kat hada hand. 

On the impulse of an unlucky moment she offered to paint theflower-rack, as Kittie was busy; so rigged in a big torn flat, and apair of fingerless gloves, she went to work, and painted the bottomfirst, with flourishing success; but left it out over night, when itrained and splashed her work with mud; then she began over, and did thetop first, and then hung the pot on a little hook, and went over thebottom again; but in the midst of her zeal, the pot slipped, turnedover, and deluged her head and body with slopping green paint, and wouldhave ruined her eyes, if she hadn't shut them tight with the first gaspof amaze; and when she tried to walk to the house with them closed, thewheel-barrow stood in the way, and over she went, with a shriek ofdismay that brought the whole household flying to the spot; after whichthe afflicted damsel was picked up, and carried tenderly to the kitchento be worked with. 

Ralph finished the rack, and Kat heard him remark, that she had daubedenough paint on one knob, to do for half the rack. It didn't make herfeel any better. 

In her zeal to get the parlors clean, Bea had climbed the step-ladder towash some ancient dust from the top of the folding doors, but the laddertilted, and over she went soap suds and all; and in answer to a wailingcry, the rescuing family once more put in an appearance, to find thatthe cleanly heroine, had wrenched her ankle, and could not step on it, but must be carried to the sitting-room, to have the afflicted memberrubbed with arnica. 

"I tried to jump, " she explained with pathetic rivers of tears. "Ohdear, what shall I do? I can't go to the picnic--nor have thecompany--nor anything--and I think it's too b-b-ad. "

"Perhaps it is not so serious, " said Mrs. Dering, with comfort in hervoice, and in her swift careful fingers that were binding the swollenankle in cool bands. "You will have to be perfectly still, and byWednesday, I think it will be well; it is only a little twist, so don'tfeel so cast down dear. " But Bea refused to be comforted, and sobbedherself to sleep that night. Not to go to the picnic, when Dr. Barnetthad asked her to go in the phaeton with them, oh, it was too bad, surely!

Beyond hammering one of her fingers, till the nail swelled up withinsulted feeling, and threatened to come off, nothing happened toKittie, who considered herself specially blessed, and did her whole headup in papers on Monday night, so as to be sure and have it curl forWednesday. 

When Tuesday arrived, Bea had sunk to the lowest ebb. She knew shecouldn't go, and there was no use talking. She was the most unfortunategirl that ever lived, and no one could deny it; and after making thisassertion numberless times during the day, she gave up and crieddespondingly, giving herself full freedom as she was alone; and so ithappened that a young man came up the walk, and finding the front dooropen, came in, and a moment later, stood transfixed at the sitting-roomthreshold, to behold that utterly crushed looking figure on the lounge, with dishevelled hair, and hidden face; while the most heart-broken sobscrept out from behind a drenched handkerchief. No wonder he was alarmed, or that his voice trembled when he asked:

"What is the matter--what has happened?"

Bea nearly fell off the lounge in dismay, and only gave him one brief, startled glimpse of her wet face, then she stopped crying, and saidafter a reflective pause:

"Nothing--I guess. "

"Nothing, " he repeated, with a breath of relief, and then began tolaugh. 

"Won't you come in, Dr. Barnett?" said the discomfited weeper frombehind her handkerchief, and with an attempt at dignity, "Excuse me fornot rising; I'm--I'm lame. "

The little hitch in her voice betrayed her grief; but, dear me! he wasall interest now. He drew a chair close to the lounge, professionalhabit, no doubt, and ventured to touch one of the hands that supportedthe doleful looking handkerchief. 

"Won't you let me see you? When did this happen?"

"Saturday. No, you can't see me; I've been crying an hour. "

"Is the pain so great?"

Oh, no wonder this young M. D. Was so popular if his voice was alwaysthus tender and anxious in making inquiries. 

"Pain! no, but, " with a little hysterical sob, "I can't go to thepicnic!"

Now you needn't smile at this frank explanation, for he did not. Blessyou! no; he looked as if he had three minds to cry too, and if Mrs. Dering hadn't entered at that moment, there's no telling what he mighthave said by way of sympathy. As it was, he returned her cordialgreeting, and began to express his regret in polite terms, but with muchwarmth of feeling that could not be concealed. 

"Is it quite impossible, do you think? Lottie will be so disappointed;"he said, regardless of the fact that he was making Lottie do doubleduty, in the way of disappointment; but Bea took the remark in all goodfaith, and thought it was very sweet of Lottie to care whether she wentor not. 

"I don't know, " answered Mrs. Dering, thoughtfully. "It was only alittle twist, and she stood on it this morning, didn't you, Bea?"

"Yes, mama, " said Bea, coming out from behind her handkerchief in eagerinterest. "I did for several minutes, and it didn't hurt hardly any. "

"Suppose you try again, " said Dr. Barnett with unprofessional haste totest an injured member. "Take my arm, and let's see if you cannot walk astep or two. "

Bea did so, with a shy blush, and stood up; then after a moment, took afew steps, with the color coming and going in her cheeks, for morereasons than one; and, though it was very pleasant to feel her clingingto his arm in that helpless way, Dr. Barnett made her sit down; butpassed his opinion that she could go to the picnic. 

"Do you really think so?" said Bea, with delighted eagerness. 

"I do, if you will be content to sit in the carriage all day, " heanswered, looking down at her, as though he thought a much swollen noseand highly colored eyes were the most adorable sights; and Bea looked upat him, then blushed, without any reason whatever, whereupon Mrs. Dering made some hasty remark about the desirable weather for picnics, and the doctor decided, all of a sudden, that he must go, which heaccordingly did. 

What a glorious hub-bub a picnic morning is, especially when there areseveral in one home interested in its perfect success. Neither of thegirls slept much. Bea couldn't have told what kept her awake, butsomehow, her eyes would remain open, and she was dimly conscious, ofsmiling several times in the dark, and feeling very happy. Once she camevery near humming out a little air, that seemed to be singing itselfover and over in her heart, but she suppressed the desire, out ofconsideration for others, who were less blissfully affected. Kittiedeclared that there was no use trying to sleep, because Kat kept gettingup every few minutes, to look out and see if it was going to rain; andKat, in turn, said that Kittie had sat up all night, because hercrimping papers hurt her so she couldn't lie down. At just four o'clockeverybody was fully awakened, by the twins clattering down stairs with agreat racket, and getting breakfast under headway, and Mrs. Dering, awakened from her morning nap, consoled herself with a fervent--"Blessthe children, I'm glad this doesn't happen often. "

"It's going to rain, " cried Kat, with a despairing wail. "See thatcloud?"

"Stuff!" echoed Kittie. "It isn't as big as a door-knob. " Butnevertheless, they both let breakfast burn, while running every fewmoments to see if it was swelling any bigger, and were fully rewarded byseeing it dwindle and sail away over the barn before six o'clock. 

No, it didn't rain, and before the sun was through his earliest infancy, they were all ready, and Dr. Barnett's phaeton stood at the gate, withMiss Lottie in a pretty picnic suit; and her brother deeply absorbed inthe pleasing task of getting Bea down to the gate without hurting herankle. Ralph officiated on one side of the interesting cripple, and tooka wicked satisfaction in doing the greatest share of the supporting; butthen the doctor was reasonable, and was as happy as possible with whatfell to his share; and Bea, --well, Bea was perfectly content. 

They drove off with an accompanying shout from those left behind, and afew moments later, Ralph and the twins departed on foot to meet thecarriages that were all to assemble at a certain place. 

Quite a little flutter of admiration went round as this trio came up, for Ralph was a very handsome centre piece, and the twins in their verybecoming costumes and wide-awake hats, cocked up at one side after theprevailing fashion, made pictures of great attractiveness on each side. Everybody was there, and everybody was laughing and talking merrily, andeverybody had a word of greeting for the new arrivals. Of all the oldschool-girls from Miss Howard's, Kittie and Kat were the only two whodid not make pretensions towards young ladyhood; and just now, there wassomething so girlish and sweet about them, in their fresh calico suits, and bright young faces under the big hats, that one or two strangersasked who they were, all the elder people smiled approval, while theyoung ones, with an eye on the handsome cousin, nodded sweetly, and werequite attentive. 

"Look at Susie Darrow, " whispered Kat, under cover of her lowered hat. "All tricked out in silk, and a little gipsy bonnet, with a white plume;and she's been smiling at me every minute, and Ralph thinks she's thebiggest goose out. I'll tell her so. "

"No, goodness no; let her smile if she wants to, she'll soon find outthat it's no use, " answered Kittie. "There's Sadie Brooks too, she'sbeen in New York, and has got an eye-glass, dear sakes alive, just watchher use it, will you?"

"Good morning girls, you look a couple of daisies;" said Mrs. Raymond, going by with a nod and a smile. "You and your cousin, are to go in ourcarriage, the girls want you, " and away she went, like a busy happy soulthat she was. 

"The Raymond girls look sensible, " said Kittie, with an air of approval;"see they have on short dresses, and big hats; I think Lou is prettierthan Clara, don't you?"

"Rather, " answered Kat, too much taken up in watching her formerplay-mates, to notice others. Susie Darrow had been to boarding-school, Sadie Brooks to New York, and May Moore was going to the sea-side nextmonth; so they were all much uplifted in mind and manner, and took untothemselves the airs of thoroughly initiated society-ladies. 

"Girls?" said Miss Brooks, with her little affected drawl, and raisingher eye-glass in her lavender kid-fingers. "Which ones do you mean, I donot quite understand?"

"Those two under the big tree, " replied her questioner, a visitor inCanfield. "Twins they are, in the big hats. "

"Oh! Yes. " Miss Brooks's eye-glass went slowly to the place indicated, and took a leisure survey. "You mean the little girls in calico dresses;they are the Derings, I believe, but really, being in the city so long, I find I am quite forgetting old faces. "

"Indeed, " was the reply, with a respectful air, though the desire tolaugh was almost irresistible. The little girls in calico dresses werefifteen, and taller than Miss Brooks, who was just sixteen; but then, dear me, she had on a train of party length, bushels of banged hair, alittle wisp of a bonnet, and little fine black marks along her lowereyelid, so altogether she looked about twenty, and was perfectlysatisfied with herself. She could not look ahead to the dissatisfactionthat would be hers when she became twenty, and looked to betwenty-eight. 

When they started, ten merry carriage-loads, everybody stood in theirdoors, and hung over the front gates to see them off, for Canfield was asocial little place, and felt a deep interest in anything going onwithin its limits; so if good wishes could make a successful day, surelythey would have it. 

Well, they did have it; yes, indeed, they did; and a happier set ofyoung people were never turned wild in green-woods. To be sure, therewere some draw-backs; for instance, when a dozen or so went off to swingin a wild-grape vine, Sadie Brooks couldn't go, her dress was too long, and it would tear her gloves. Likewise, when they played "drop thehandkerchief, " "blind-man, " and "down on this carpet, " Susie Darrowcouldn't join, because her tie-back would hardly admit of sitting down, let alone racing in the woods; besides, the wind blew her white plumeall up, and took the crimp out of her hair, and then she lost her lacehandkerchief, and didn't receive much attention from handsome RalphTremayne; and altogether, she lost her temper, declared picnics a bore, and told May Moore that no one but romps ever came to them anyhow, which, considering that both she and May were in attendance, was aremark which might have been improved on. 

Sitting in a carriage all day proved to be no hardship to Bea, fordidn't Dr. Barnett spend nearly all his time there? and at Miss Lottie'sproposal, didn't several of them trim the phaeton in boughs and vines, and deck her out in flowers until she looked like a forest queen? andaside from being a favorite, didn't she receive so much sympathy thatthere was a constant court before and around her throne? and above itall, don't you suppose a certain pair of eyes, as they looked at herthat day, told her a certain story more plainly than the owner's lipsever could? That she was the fairest and dearest picture to him, there, or elsewhere?

"Who is that young lady--little girl, I am almost disposed to call her, with the fresh young face and lovely eyes? The one who stands on thebank, there, with the wreath of leaves on her hat?"

Mrs. Raymond's brother asked the question, as he sat with his sister onan elevated spot under a big tree, surveying the gay crowds roamingabout in all directions. 

"That? It is one of the Dering twins, " answered Mrs. Raymond, with asmile of interest. "But I don't know which; they are not to bedistinguished; they are lovely girls, so fresh and unaffected. I supposeyou have noticed them both?"

"Yes, and I disagree with you, for they are to be distinguished; I havebeen watching them with considerable interest. There; the other one iscoming down the hill now; do you mean to tell me that you see nodifference?"

"Well, surely not in face or figure, " replied Mrs. Raymond, with apuzzled glance. "I see that the new-comer's hat is hanging to her neck, and has no trimming, that her gloves are gone, and she has the generalappearance of having gone through a wind-mill. "

"And you have struck the distinction admirably, my dear, " was thesmiling answer. "There was something in their faces that interested methis morning, and I have noticed them a great deal. So far as I can see, the one has had just as gay a time as the other, and done very nearly asmuch romping; and yet you see, she looks as fresh and sweet as whenstarting out, with the addition of much becoming trimming; and where shehas gone heartily, yet with a girlish grace, the other has gonepell-mell, as though in defiance of any restriction on feminine gender. Do you know which is which?"

"Indeed, I do not, " said Mrs. Raymond, who was not acquainted with thecharacteristics of the twins. "All I know is that one is Kittie and theother Kat, and that I never know which is which when I am talking tothem, never having had time to study them up. "

"Well, I will wager my shoe-buckle, that the one on the bank is Kittie, and the hatless one Kat, " was the quiet response. "At least, that is theway it ought to be. Now I should like to meet Miss Kittie, and if you--"

"Is it possible?" cried the lady, throwing up her hands in amaze. "You, who would only consent to come, on condition that you need not beintroduced, and play the agreeable to the young ladies; well, well! whowould have thought it, Paul?"

"The generality of young ladies are bores, " was the reply. "I did notexpect to meet such a fresh faced, lovely young girl; for society neverallows them to remain so, if it gets hold of them. "

"It will never be so with these girls, " said Mrs. Raymond. "They havetoo sensible and lovely a mother, and besides, they are a family muchdevoted among themselves; there are five sisters, you will remember mytelling you about the other one, Ernestine, she sang like an angel; andanother one is an artist, the youngest a cripple, and--well they allseem to live solely for each other, so require little from society. Iadmire them all very much. "

"So do I, from what I hear, " said the gentleman, getting up from hisgrassy seat, and glancing down at the bank. "Shall I assist you?"

"No, indeed; I'm not old yet, if I am grey, " laughed Mrs. Raymond, jumping nimbly up to prove her assertion. "I don't know what the ladieswill say, Paul, to see you finally succumbing to feminine attractions;they have all eyed you in your seclusion with evident regret. You knowthere is something singularly attractive about a widower, young or old;though I suppose you have found that out, " she added with a sister'sfond belief that her brother is irresistible in every way. 

"Yes, I dislike conceit; but I have found out a few things in the lastfour years, " he answered, smiling; then uttering a little exclamation ofdisappointment, as they reached the foot of the hill, and found thatKittie had disappeared from the bank. 

"Great oaks from little acorns grow. " Sometimes they do in books, sometimes they do out; and this afternoon in the sunshiny woods, twolittle acorns had been planted. One of them was when Paul Murray hadlooked with careless eyes into Kittie Dering's face, and found in itsbright girlish sweetness, what had been lacking for him, in any woman'sface since he lost his wife; namely--interest. He was a grave, thoughtful faced man, with just a dash of grey on his temples, and alistless air of world-weariness, that made him look beyond his years;for he was only twenty-eight; and yet he had had a vigorous cuffing fromthe reed-shaken hand of Fortune, and had come to regard himself with asort of pitying disapprobation, such as falls upon us when we know wehave a duty to perform, yet think it too great, and hesitate betweenself-condolence and accusation. 

He had seen the day of wild oats, and had sown them, but had drawn backere they sprung into life and choked out all else. He had had riches andlost them; had married a lovely loving girl, only to have her taken fromhim in one short year; then to deaden his grief he had gone to work, regained his wealth, after which he left his infant daughter in tenderhands, and had gone abroad, only to again lose all he had in anunfortunate speculation, which brought him home, where he had again goneto work, but with a listless, disinterested way, --that had brought himlittle success. 

So, to-day, he was a lawyer, struggling as though he had just enteredthe bar. So, I say, he felt like a man without an incentive. To be sure, there was his little daughter, but then he had really seen so little ofthe child, and for a time there had been almost a bitter feeling againsther, because, in gaining her life, she had taken her young mother's, andleft him desolate; and then if he was to die, she was amply providedfor by her grandmother. He had yet to learn, that, though severely dealtwith, he had still much to live for. 

The other little acorn had fallen in kindred ground, in no less place, than the loving little heart of Pansy Murray. 

The brother and sister were strolling rather aimlessly about, with aword here and there to chattering groups, and an occasional glancearound to see if Kittie was in sight, when, who should they see, butthat young lady coming slowly towards them, with her arms filled with afamiliar bundle, that showed signs of life, as they came in sight ofeach other. It thus remarked with much excitement:

"I was losted, I was, papa, behind a big tree, an' I was a kyin'dreffully when the lady finded me, I was. "

"Lost? Good gracious!" cried Mrs. Raymond, snatching the child in ahurry, and forgetting all introductions. "Why, I told the girls not tolose sight of you, Pansy. "

"But they did, " said Pansy, with a blissful smile, as though she haddone something great. "They bothered me dreadfully, saying: 'Come, Pansy, ' 'Don't go there, Pansy, ' till I went right off for sure 'thouttelling one body, and then I got losted mos' right away, and I wished Icould hear somebody say 'Come, Pansy, ' but nobody did, so I jes' beganto commence to holler, 'th all my might, and the lady camed right off; Ithink 'twas drefful good for her to. "

"Kat lost her breastpin, and I was helping look for it, " said Kittie, with a modest blush, being quite overcome with the gratitude visible inboth faces before her. "She wasn't very far away. "

"I was far away, " corrected Pansy with decision. "I was more'n'leventeen miles, and I expected to see a big bear mos' every minute, Idid, and I know one would have camed if the lady hadn't; and I jes' loveher very much, I do. "

"Oh, yes; excuse me, " said Mrs. Raymond, hastily. "Paul, this is MissDering; my brother, Mr. Murray; and we're so thankful to you, Kittie. "

Kittie bowed and blushed still more, as Mr. Murray repeated hisgratitude, but as she turned to leave, Pansy cried vehemently:

"You stay with me, 'cause I want you, and you go home with me and mypapa in the little buggy; tell her so quick, right off, papa. "

Of course what could Mr. Murray do but say politely:

"I should be most pleased, Miss Dering, if you would allow me to becruel enough to take you from the gay party. "

Kittie did not know the invitation came from a society lion, whorefused to be caught, and the depths of her innocent heart never dreamedhow pleased he was, at thus being forced into giving it; she only knewthat she had much rather go home in the carriage, with the girls, andwas quite unconscious that the thought shone in her eyes, but Mr. Murraysaw it and hastily added:

"It would be too unkind, after all. Do not consider it another moment;only tell me if you will allow Pansy and me to come and take you to ridesome evening soon. "

"Yes, thank you, " answered Kittie. "I should be very much pleased. "

Some one shouted her name through the woods just then, and with a littlebow and smile, she went away, leaving Mr. Murray to comfort Pansy, as hesaid slowly:

"A delightfully natural, and charming little girl! We will go and takeher to ride soon; so don't cry, Pansy. "

Well the blissful day came to an end, as all days will, though theyprolonged it to the last minute and did not reach home until after dark;and then everybody forgot how tired they were, and said with a sigh ofpleasing memory, "How delightful it was, to be sure!"

"I had a lovely time, " said Bea, smiling to herself in the dark, afterthey had gone to bed. 

"Well, I'm sure I did, " added Kittie, hugging her pillow with a tired, contented sigh, and thankful that she had no crimps in the way. 

"Well, I didn't find my pin, and I tore my dress, and knocked my headtill I saw stars, on that grape vine, but I had a grand tip-top time, and I'd like to go again, yes, I would, if only to see Sadie Brookswiggle her eye-glass and say, 'How shocking!' when I walked the logacross the creek, " was Kat's final remark as she dropped into worn-outslumber. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

SEVERAL THINGS. 

On Friday morning, while the girls were flying busily around, and Mrs. Dering was deep in the task of getting a tall cake browned just to aturn, there came a note from Mrs. Dane. 

"How unfortunate, " she mused, reading it hurriedly, as the girls ran into see what it was. "Mr. Dane has gone to the city and will not be backuntil ten to night, and Mrs. Dane wants me to come and stay with her, asshe has one of her dreadful nervous attacks. I feel as though I ought togo, if you can spare me girls!"

"Things will go higgle-ty-piggle-ty, sure as the world, " said Kat, balancing on the edge of the table, and fanning with the duster. 

"No, they will not either, " corrected Bea. "We ought to be ashamed ifthey do. Go, of course, mama, though I will be dreadfully sorry not tohave you here this evening. "

"The cake is not quite done, and has to be iced, " said Mrs. Dering, glancing from the fire to the clock. "I don't know, --"

"I'll finish it, " said Kittie, letting down her dress, and replacing hersweeping cap with a big kitchen apron. "Go, and get ready mama, thencome and tell me how to do the icing; the cake will be done by thattime. "

"It must cool first, but you can get five eggs, and take the whites, getthe beater and the sugar, and then I'll be back, " replied Mrs. Dering, brushing some flour from her sleeves, and hurrying out. 

"Now something is going to happen, " said Kat with prophetic certainty. "I feel it in my bones, and I bet you a postage-stamp it will be myfault. "

"Then I'd advise you to be careful, " said Kittie, taking a hurried peepinto the oven. 

"Never!" cried Kat. "Something would be sure to go wrong then; it alwaysdoes when I'm trying my very level best to be a credit to my family. Theonly thing for me to do, is to go at it with a slap and a bang; thenthings twist about like proper magic. "

"What nonsense!" said Kittie, breaking eggs with deft fingers. "Have youcleaned the lamps yet?"

"No, nor done much else either; it's too hot; the thermometer isboiling, down cellar, and Ralph said that I was so good natured that I'dturn to grease if I got too heated, so I'm being careful, you see, " saidKat, with a lazy laugh; and she sat in the window and fanned, with theduster in one hand and the egg-beater in the other. 

"Well, I think the parlors look so pretty, " said Kittie, with an air ofrelief, as the last egg deposited its silvery white in the big platter. "What an addition a piano is, and how nicely the curtains are done up;everything seems to be going right. "

"I smell the cake; it's burning!" cried Kat, jumping from her seat in ahurry; but Kittie threw open the oven, and jerked out the preciouscontents which did smell burnt, and was deep black right around oneedge. 

"What a shame!" she cried regretfully; but Kat resumed her seat with thecomforting remark:

"Slice it over, and cover it up with icing; it will never show in theworld; you see, if I hadn't been in here, it would have been burnt up. "

"I guess I've got a nose, " retorted Kittie, beginning to beat eggs witha swiftness that brought high color to her cheeks. "Now go on, Kat, andfix the lamps and help Bea, for she mustn't be on her foot much. "

"That's right, beat them just as stiff as possible before you put inthe sugar, " said Mrs. Dering, coming in with her things on, to note theprogress, and leave orders. "Put it on with a large knife as smoothly aspossible, then set it down cellar. As to the coffee, you know about thatjust as well as I do. The milk that is raising cream is on the backswing-shelf, down cellar. That is all, isn't it?"

"Yes'm, and I guess we'll manage all right. Tell Mrs. Dane I'm sorryshe's sick. Good-bye. "

"Everything looks beautiful, and I hope you'll have a pleasant time, dears, " was Mrs. Dering's next remark, as she glanced into the parlorson her way out. "Don't tax your ankle too much, Bea, and Kat, try andnot have anything happen to you this time. I suppose I will be herebefore they all go home, but if I am not, present my compliments andregrets. A merry time to you all. Good-bye. "

"There, how does that look?" asked Kat, balancing herself on thestep-ladder with a caution born of bitter experience, and lookingcock-eyed at the blooming basket she had just hung. 

"Beautiful, " answered Bea, with her head, in a big sweeping-cap, turnedadmiringly side-ways. "Yes, that effect is lovely. I hope it will lookas pretty by lamp-light. There comes Ralph with two big packages. Iwonder what they are: something good, I expect?"

Kat sat down on the ladder to look out the window, as Bea hurried outon to the porch to meet the young man of packages, and receive hisburdens, if they were offered to her. 

"I was meditating this morning, " said Ralph, sitting down on the stepswith an exhausted air. "And it struck me, that to drink coffee on such anight as this--with the thermometer at blood heat in an ice chest--wouldbe nothing less than a new order of suicide, so I have brought asubstitute, which I venture to hope, will meet with yourapproval;--lemonade. "

"Oh, you're a blessing, " cried Bea, with a joyful pounce on to thebundles. "It will be so much nicer, and what splendid big lemons, andenough sugar to make a gallon. "

"A gallon won't come amiss, I guess, people are ravenously thirsty suchweather as this; why, I feel like I could drink a quart myself this veryminute;--where's Kat?" asked Ralph, drawing another package from hispocket. 

"Here I am; what's wanted?" answered Kat, putting her head out at thetop of the window. 

"Here's something that you are fond of--catch, " said Ralph, tossing thepackage, which Kat grasped as it flew by. "I looked all over town forsome decent candy for this evening, and couldn't find a thing exceptthat, which I knew would suit Kat, and put her in a good humor. "

"Butter-scotch!" cried Kat, with a shriek of delight. "I haven't had anyin the natural life of ten coons. What bliss! Ralph you're a top!"

"Thank you. I'm getting along, I see; for I suppose a top is a littlehigher than a trump, isn't it?"

But Kat had disappeared, so Ralph leaned up lazily against the post, fanning with his big straw hat, while drinking in with dreamy delightthe quiet beauty before and around him. How intensely quiet nature canbecome in the sunshine of a summer afternoon! Even the birds insheltering nooks among the shady leaves find greatest happiness inhelping the solitude; and save a light breeze, touching the tops of thetrees, and dipping down to stir the cool grass, lying in deep shade, there is no evidence that nature's pulse still answers to the quietbeating of her heart. The Dering home at a time like this, looked morelike an old picture steeped in cool shadows, with glints of sunshinehere and there, and one could almost imagine now, in looking at it, thatthe open windows, with glimpses of snowy curtains, the great front doorwith the cool, deep hall beyond, the shady, vine-covered porch, and theindolent figure on the steps, with dreamy, dark eyes, and hat idlydropped, were but witcheries of the artist's brush and colors. 

Something entirely averse to the idea of a painting, namely, a movingfigure, appeared at this moment, coming from the front door, andbearing a small waiter with a glass of cool lemonade. 

"Here's something to make your eyes shine!" cried a voice that made himstart up from his reverie in a hurry and look delighted. 

"Kat! Is it possible? For me? Who made it?"

"I did, to be sure, all alone by myself. "

"Where's the other glass?"

"Other? Patience! won't one glass do you?"

"No, but wait; I'll get it, " and away he went, coming back in a momentwith an empty glass, into which he poured half the cool refreshingcontents. 

"There! To be more social, you see. Now, mademoiselle, let's drink tohealth, happiness, and everlasting peace and friendship between us, fromthis moment henceforth. Shall we?"

"Yes, " said Kat, with her brightest smile; so they clinked glasses anddrank merrily in the shady porch; then shook hands to strengthen thecontract, and made mutual resolves to smoke the pipe of peace forever. 

Meantime Kittie, unconscious of the great reconciliation just beingsealed, was having a sorry time by herself out in the hot kitchen. Theicing wouldn't ice worth a cent, but persisted in being sloppy andunmanageable; and the more she spatted and smoothed, the worse itlooked; and finally she called to Bea, in worn-out despair:

"I don't see what in the world is the matter with it, " cried thediscouraged icer, setting forth her work with a sigh of exhaustedenergy. "Do you see what's wrong?"

"You've iced it on the wrong side, " said Bea, smothering her owndisappointment, out of consideration for Kittie's tired despair. "Yousee the top always puffs and bakes out of shape, so the way to do is toice the bottom, so it will look smooth and nice. "

"Yes, to be sure; what a goose I was not to think! I tried to make itlook even by filling the dents up, and they're all perfect littlepuddles;" cried Kittie in heated disgust. "What shall we do, makeanother one? Though I'd be afraid to try. I never made any kind but thevery plainest and that wouldn't do. "

"No, I had rather have this. Put it down cellar in the very coolestplace, and I guess it will harden up all right, " advised Bea, smotheringa little sigh of regretful anxiety, as she tried to give comfort to thediscouraged cook. So Kittie carried it down cellar, and throughout therest of the day made regular trips down to see if it was hardening any;but it wasn't, and her spirits sank so low that the astonishing sight ofRalph and Kat, sworn enemies when last she saw them, coming slowly upfrom the pond under one umbrella and evidently on such amicable grounds, did not rouse her, except to a moment of amaze; after which, she sankback into a world of troubled dreams, where there seemed to be nothingbut cakes, swimming about in puddles of icing, while a dreadful penaltyhung above her defenceless head, if the puddles did not congeal intoornamental coverings before a given time. 

"Oh, dear, oh! What can the matter be?" sang Ralph, stopping at thekitchen window, just in time to see her coming from the cellar-way witha face bereft of all hope. "What has happened?"

"Oh, Ralph! I don't know what I shall do, " she cried, with despondingagony, and then sat down on the wood-box and burst into tears. 

"Why, bless your poor little heart! Tell me about it, " exclaimed Ralph, swinging himself into the window, and hurrying to turn comforter. 

"The ca-ake is ruined, " sobbed Kittie, entirely given over to despairand grief. "It's all slopped and soaked to pieces in the old icing--andI don't want to tell Bea--and I don't know what to do, either. I--I--fan--fanned it a whole hour to make it colder, and it didn't do abit of good, and--oh, dear me!"

"Well, that is a calamity, to be sure, " said Ralph, feeling a masculinehelplessness since the trouble lay within the domain of cookery. "Butthen, never mind; we'll drink lemonade, and let the cake go. "

"Yes, I'd just as soon, but Bea--she'll be so disappointed, and I hateto tell her, " sobbed Kittie, wailing. 

"But Bea is reasonable, " urged Ralph. "She will know you did your best, and ought to be ashamed if she says anything cross. "

"Oh, it isn't that, " cried Kittie, hastily. "She knows I tried, and shewon't say a word, but then she'll be so disappointed, because she wantseverything nice for Miss Barnett, and--and, I hate to tell her. "

"Exactly, " said Ralph, much touched at this little evidence of sisterlyconsideration, and feeling a greater desire than ever to do something tohelp the cause along. "See here, Kittie, " he exclaimed suddenly, andKittie looked up quickly, for there was something promising in thevoice. "Do you dry those eyes out in a hurry, and run out doors to getcool and cheerful, and don't ask me any questions. "

"But Ralph--"

"Go, I say, and do just as I tell you. Don't give that cake anotherthought, but go and fix yourself as pretty as you can for this evening, and I promise you everything shall be all right. "

"Oh, you blessed boy, " cried Kittie, with a gasp of relief. 

"Boy! Don't insult me; remember I will vote this Fall. "

"To be sure; I beg your pardon, " and Kittie began to laugh through hertears. She hadn't the slightest idea what he could do to make mattersall right, but then he had said he would, and that was enough. Shenever doubted but what he could do whatever he set his mind to. 

Just after it came time to light the parlors, it became evident to allthat something was the matter with Kat. She didn't say anything, but oncoming in from a late tow on the pond, and finding everything lighted, she gave a gasp, and stood perfectly still in the parlor door. 

"Well, what were you down to the pond this late for?" asked Bea, flitting about in her white dress, with the softest color in her cheeks, a knot of blush roses in her hair, and another in her belt. 

"I--I was cool--I mean I wanted to get cool, " answered Kat with astammer, and her eyes going hurriedly from one room to the other. 

"What did you light up so early for?"

"I don't call seven o'clock early--there goes the gate now. "

Kat groaned, as if in deepest despair, then dashed up stairs, and castherself into the first chair with a tragic air. 

"I knew it! I knew it! oh, what a miserable wretch I am, and whateverwill I do? I never never will be anything but a black sheep to thelongest day that I live?" After which cheerful prophesy, she ran bothhands over her hair by way of smoothing any stray locks, gave her skirtsa twist, and herself a general shake, and started slowly down stairsagain, with a grimly resigned air. 

It was only the most informal of little evening company, so every onecame early, and in a little while the quiet evening air grew musicalwith merry voices and gay laughter, then became quieter, and wasreplaced by notes from the piano, or some one voice trilling out apopular song or a pretty ballad. Everything went flourishingly; to besure, there were more ladies than gentlemen, which required muchwatching and managing on Bea's part, that no lady should suffer a dearthof masculine attention. Once, Ralph was missing from the room for somelittle time, which worried her greatly, but when he came back, shenoticed that he nodded and smiled to Kittie, which was unintelligible toher, but was readily understood by her sister, to mean that everythingwas right. Just as the young hostess had decided that it was time toserve refreshments, some one asked her to sing. 

"I? Oh, I never sing, " she said with a modest blush, and drawing back, while her heart began to flutter nervously. 

"I'm quite sure you do, " persisted the young lady; whereupon the requestwas strengthened by all voices; and conscious that it would be impoliteto still refuse, Bea walked to the piano, with her fingers growing coldas ice, and a die-away feeling in her throat. It took a few minutes tospin up the stool and decide what to sing, then in a voice that wouldquaver, she began a little Scotch song, and was just through the firstverse when things began to look strange. Was it because she was sonervous, or was it growing dark? She played a few rambling chords, thenshe stopped and looked at the lamp with a chilly foreboding, and--_itwas going out_!

Somebody else had noticed it before she did, and now as she sat inblank, dazed mortification, some one crossed the room, and lifting thelamp, blew it out, saying with a careless laugh:

"Several adventurous bugs were burning themselves to death, so I haveended their, and our misery, by putting out what they were slowlykilling, and now while they are being dislodged, and the lamp relighted, shall we adjourn to the porch, ladies and gentlemen? The moon is comingup gorgeously. "

Bea could have gone down on her knees in gratitude to him, and Kat, theterrible, actually threw him a kiss in the dark, before she rushed outto the kitchen, where Bea had carried the lamp. 

"It's all my fault, every bit, " she cried remorsefully. "I thought thismorning, when I cleaned the lamps, that I would wait until it got coolerto go up after the coal-oil, and then I forgot it, clean as a shingle, and I'll do anything under the sun if you'll forgive me. "

"Don't talk, " said Bea sharply, too excited and nervous to say much. "Go, bring every lamp in the house, quick!"

"Never mind, " exclaimed Kittie, coming hurriedly in, as Kat went off ona rush. "Don't feel bad, Bea, not a soul noticed it, and you weresinging beautifully; besides you just ought to look in the dining-room;there's the most magnificent cake that you ever saw, and a freezer ofdelicious ice-cream!"

Bea dropped the lamp-top from her trembling fingers, and turned her facewith incredulous relief and delight. 

"Oh, Kittie!"

"Yes, and I'm going right out now to distribute plates and napkins, andlet them eat out in the moonlight; it's nearly as light as day, so don'tworry another bit; the other big lamp will burn over two hours, yet, andyou can empty enough from the little ones into this to make it go, andeverybody but Dr. Barnett thinks it was bugs. Only hurry and come out;"and away fluttered Kittie, with the memory of Bea's brightened face, toprovide the young guests with plates and expectations. 

So, when Bea replaced the lamp in the parlor, with its blaze high andbright, and came out on to the porch, she found the merriest partyimaginable, and there were generous saucers of cream going round amid"Oh's, " and "Ah's" of satisfaction, and Kat following after them with animmense cake, its top shining white as snow in the moonlight. Bea knewonly too well who was the author of all this generosity, and she seizedthe first opportunity of giving Ralph's hand a squeeze of inexpressiblegratitude, to which he made answer by giving her a fraternal pat on theshoulder, as they stood in the shadow of the vine, and whispered slyly:

"Barnett's a trump, isn't he? I never saw anything neater. "

Bea thought so and was treasuring up a little speech of thanks to makehim when the good-night moment should arrive, but she didn't make it, for that moment turned out to be something so different from what sheexpected. It was this way. After having reduced the cake and lemonade toa state of bankruptcy, and made way with all the ice-cream, the youngpeople strolled around the yard for a while in the moonlight, took ridesin the Water-Rat across the pond, and then decided that it was time togo home, and began making their parting thanks accordingly; so that in afew moments every one was gone but Dr. Barnett and his sister; and thatsister, with feminine quickness, understood that this moment might bethe very one her brother wanted, so she engaged Kittie and Kat in alively conversation, and together they all went up stairs for herwrappings. 

"It was so kind in you, " began Bea when she found that they were quitealone on the porch. "I don't know what I should have done, and it was soterribly mortifying, but then--" and there she came to a pause, forlooking up, she met his eyes, wearing an expression, such as chased allfurther words from her lips, and made her forget entirely what it wasthat she was going to say next. 

"Don't you suppose, " began the young doctor rather hurriedly, "that itis very pleasant for me to know that I saved you any pain, and don't youknow that I wish I might feel that you would give me the right to do soalways? don't you, Beatrice?"

"Oh--I--don't know;" stammered Bea, with a foolish little quaver to hervoice, and dropping her face clean out of sight, yet making noresistance when she found her hands imprisoned. 

"Please look at me, " was the first request, in very tender tones. "Ineed some encouragement. Won't you give me a little? If you love me everso little, dear, won't you put your hand in mine again?"

Bea dropped her head still lower, all in a tremor of happy, shy delight, and looked at the hand which he had released, and was waiting to claimfrom her. Should she give it? She knew she would, even while shehesitated, for didn't she love him from the top to the bottom of herdevoted little heart? Yes, of course she did. And didn't she foolishlythink that the loveliest music in heaven could never be more delightfulto listen to than his voice asking for her love? To be sure she did. Oh, it's wonderful how such times affect us all!

"I'm waiting, Beatrice, " said Dr. Walter, with a very proper degree ofbeseeching impatience. "Don't you love me any, darling?"

Up came her head with a little flash of courage, giving him one glanceof the shy, happy eyes, then down it went again, as she held out herhand, and felt it covered with an eager firmness, while something wassaid close to her rosy ear that did well enough for her to hear, butcannot be told to you. 

It is wonderful how much time Miss Lottie managed to consume in puttingon a single wrap--a fleecy covering over her head; but she realized theimportance of keeping out of the way a while, so loitered and chattedand admired the moon-lit view from the windows, and finally startedslowly down stairs, fervently hoping that the important words had beenspoken. 

They evidently had, for both parties looked so happy, and when thedoctor bade the twins good night, it really seemed as though he wouldshake their hands off, in the excess of some feeling that possessed him;and there is no mistake about it, he certainly kissed Bea in the shadowof the vines, as he said to her in parting:

"To-morrow, I am coming to see your mother, and then I hope to put myseal on this little hand that you have given to me. "

At first, Bea did not know whether to tell the girls or not, but then, of course they knew, for after they were alone, what unheard-of capersthey did go through with, such winks, and sighs, and groans, and tragicacting. So Bea sat over in the shadow where they couldn't see her face, and said with a laugh:

"Stop your nonsense, if you want me to tell you about it. "

"Tell!" echoed Kat. "As if we didn't know, and hadn't seen for months. I've been nearly dead to tease, 'cause you're such a good subject, butthen mama said we shouldn't. Engaged! Oh, here's a go!"

"What did you both say?" asked Kittie, in romantic interest, and feelingas though a great hole had been made in the family, with Bea set apartfrom them in some way. 

"Not much, " answered Bea, with a little smile to think how quickly ithad all been done. "I hear voices at the gate; it's mama and Mr. Dane; Iguess I'll go down and meet her;" so off she went, leaving the twins tolaugh and mourn over the event. 

Dr. Barnett came the next day, and he and Mrs. Dering talked in thesitting-room together for a long time. Then Bea was sent for, and aftera while, when she came out with a quiet, almost sad happiness in herface, she wore a rim of gold on her left hand, and for a long time shesat alone in her room, thinking much, shedding a few tears, and saying alittle prayer, as though she felt that she stood on the threshold ofsomething that would require help, and that was hard for her torealize. 

After this, the summer days came and went, with little to disturb thequiet life at the Dering's. The heat was so intense that amusements ofall kinds were laid aside, just as little work done as possible, and thegreater portion of the long days spent out on the old roof, where it wasconstantly shady. So nothing further happened until the time came forRalph to return to home and studies. The prospect of such an event drovedespair into the hearts of the girls and made them extensivelyrebellious. Even Kat mourned and felt a great deal more than she showed, for with all pretensions to dislike, would it have been possible to havehad Ralph Tremayne there for six months, and not like him?

"I'll come back, " he would say over and over again, as though in someway, he gained comfort himself from the assertion. "In two years I'll bethrough with my studies, and my very first trip will be here and then--"but somehow, he never finished, but would look thoughtful for a littlewhile, as though the move after _then_, was going to be a very importantone. 

"I believe you're glad to go, " Kittie would say to him when he wouldoften be telling of what he was going to work for and accomplish. "You'll go back to Boston, and study, and make yourself a great lawyer, and you'll see such elegant ladies in society there, that you willforget all about this little country town, and these little countrygirls. "

"Kittie, " Ralph would exclaim in return, as though this little doubt ofhis faithfulness hurt him, "you know you don't mean it, and if you knewwhat this summer has been to me, you never would say so. "

"Why don't you tell us, then?" asked Kat, who happened to overhear thisremark one day. 

"Perhaps I will some time, if I find that you are glad to see me when Icome back, " answered Ralph with a mysterious smile. 

"Can you ever doubt that?" asked Bea. "After the blessing and comfortthat you have been to us all? I don't know what we ever will do withoutyou, Ralph; it will be so lonesome. "

"Why, you ought not to care, " said Ralph with a laugh, and touching thehand that wore the gold ring, with a significant gesture. "My place wastaken long ago in your fickle heart, mademoiselle. "

It did not really seem as though they were going to lose him untilSeptember came, and the days crept around, till the one came when atrunk stood packed in the hall, the front room up stairs lookedforsaken, and Ralph was really going next morning. 

Right after dinner, Kat took her book and went off to the farthestcorner of the back-yard, where a gigantic apple-tree stood, with amagnificent seat of curled branches up in its centre, into which, Katfound her way, with some speedy climbing, and then sat down and lookedthoughtfully at nothing for nearly half an hour. Yes, she did look verythoughtful, and after a while, she opened her book, but did not readmuch, for something kept coming between her and the leaves, and two orthree times she might have been seen to slide her hand across her eyes, and wink pretty fast, which plainly indicated that something must be thematter. She never could have told afterwards what made her stay thereall the afternoon, but stay she did, and never came down until the sunhad commenced to throw slanting shadows across the grass. On the way upto the house, she walked slowly, and appeared to be holding someinternal communion or argument with herself, and was seen to shakeherself rather fiercely before she went in. 

"Well, where in the world have you been?" was the remark that greetedher, as she appeared in the sitting-room door; and the speaker was Bea, who turned from the window with wet eyes. 

"Been? Up in the big tree out below the pond. "

"Why I thought you had gone up town, " exclaimed Kittie, who was cryingon the piano-stool, like one bereft. "Ralph's gone. "

"Gone!" echoed Kat, slowly. 

"Yes, gone, " repeated Bea. "He found that he could make connectionsright through by taking this afternoon's train, and he raced all aroundtown an hour before train-time, to find you. Kittie said you were goingafter dinner. "

"Yes, but I changed my mind, " said Kat slowly, then turned and went out. Gone, and with no good-bye to her! She wondered a little to see how muchthe thought hurt her. Ralph's old straw hat, with its broad band of blueribbon, just as he used to wear it around the yard, hung on the rack. She took it down with a queer little feeling in her throat, and slappedit on to her head, then went out into the yard again. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

AT THE OPERA. 

The sun came warmly in at the great west window of the picture gallery, and showed Olive sitting before a tall frame, and working busily at thesketch that lay in her lap. Very near to her lay Jean, on a luxuriouslittle divan, with an open book in her hands, from which she read alittle now and then, and watching her sister in the meantime. It wasvery still, for when Olive was at work she was always too absorbed tothink of aught else, and objected to being talked to, so the deepsilence lay unbroken, and Jean satisfied herself with being allowed towatch to her heart's content. 

At last Olive raised her head with a sigh, partly of fatigue, and partlyof blissful content, and after taking a professional squint at hersubject and her copy, passed it over to Jean with the remark:

"There, how do you like that, Jean? Does his nose look right?"

"Just beautiful!" cried Jean with enthusiasm. "How splendidly you do it, Olive. He looks as if he was going to speak. It must be so nice to be anartist; you'll be a great one, some day, won't you?"

"I want to be, " answered Olive, who had lately learned that nothing sothrew Jean into raptures, as to be appealed to, and confided in. "AfterI learn to draw heads just as nicely as possible, I am going to sketchyours and Ernestine's for mama. "

"Are you really?" exclaimed Jean in delight, "and like that one?"

"Yes, like this, " said Olive, looking at her sketch, which was a copy ofa magnificent head of Demosthenes, cast in bas-relief against blackvelvet. "Don't you think she will like it?"

"Oh, she'll just be too happy!" cried Jean, slipping from her lounge, and limping over to Olive with her cane. "I want to talk a little whilenow, will you, Olive?"

The young artist cast a hasty regretful look at her drawing, and was onthe point of putting off the little talk, for her fingers fairlytrembled to go on with her work, and catch with her pencil the peculiarlife-like expression about the mouth of the great orator; but thetemptation was thrust aside, and the next moment, Jean was sitting inher lap, with the contented air of one who expects no rebuffs orunreturned caresses. 

"I've been watching you so long, " she began, touching with lovingfingers, the long, heavy braid of beautiful hair, that had fallen overOlive's shoulder, "and I just wanted to tell you how different you lookfrom the way you used to, you know. "

"Yes, " answered Olive, who had grown used to these loving bursts ofadmiration from the observing little girl. 

"I used to think, " continued Jean, "that you was the most unhappy girl Iever saw, and it made me feel so sorry, 'cause I thought it must besomebody's fault, and then I wanted to kiss you, or something, but youalways looked so, I didn't know whether you'd like it or not, and so Inever did. "

"But I would have been glad, " said Olive, who could remember very wellthe many times she had frozen the little girl's loving advances. 

"I'll tell you why I was so unhappy, Jeanie; I thought no body loved me, and that I was in the way. "

"Why, Olive! Olive!" cried Jean in greatest amaze. "How could you thinkso; who made you?"

"I made myself, " said Olive. "I was so cross, that I made you all stayaway from me, and then I thought it was because no one cared for me, because I was so ugly. "

"You wasn't pretty then, " was Jean's honest remark. "But you are now, really, and so splendid looking some way. You haven't got rosy cheekslike Miss Foster, nor yellow hair like Ernestine, but somehow I love tolook at you, and so does Cousin Roger, 'cause sometimes when you aredrawing, he just looks right straight at you all the whole time. "

"Does he?" laughed Olive, and then revealed the utter want of romance inher nature, by never giving the complimentary fact another thought. "I'll tell you something, Jean, if you'll not repeat it. "

"Oh, no, Olive, never!"

"Well, I'm drawing Cousin Roger's head. "

"You are, and he don't know it?"

"No, I take good looks when he don't see, then go and draw awhile; it'sgood practise, and he has such a strong, clear face, and splendidlyshaped head, that I have to work hard to make my picture good, and Ifind it is helping me a great deal, " said Olive, with never a thought ofdoing a thing that might be termed romantic. 

"How nice, and may I see it?"

"Yes, when it is done. "

"And may _I_ see it?" inquired a new voice, that made them both startand turn, to see Roger Congreve coming down the gallery. 

"Did you hear?" asked Olive, looking a little vexed; and Jean openedher mouth to say something, then shut it in a hurry. 

"No, I didn't except the last two sentences; but from the way you bothlook, I think it must be something that I ought to hear, " answered thegentleman, sitting down on Jean's divan with a laugh. 

"Tell him, " whispered Jean, and as Olive looked up, and saw his headwith gleams of sunshine falling across it, she realized the advantage ofhaving it to look at steadily, and how grand his forehead was. 

"Yes, I'd just as soon tell you as not, " she said frankly. "I've beentaking a sketch of your head. "

"Have you indeed, " he exclaimed, with a sudden light in his face thatOlive could not understand, if indeed, she thought anything about it. 

"Yes, it makes a splendid study, but I haven't made much progress, because I've had so few chances. "

"Why did you do it on the sly?" he asked, hoping to detect a littleconfusion in her answer, such as might indicate a little deeper interestthan the mere study; but not a bit of it; she answered readily enough:

"I thought you might consider it a bore to sit still, doing nothing, just for the sake of being copied, so I never said anything about it, but studied by piece-meal. "

"On the contrary, believe me, nothing would be greater bliss than to sitstill doing nothing, by the hour, for the sake of being copied--byyou, " said Roger with an unmistakable accent. 

"It is very kind of you, I am sure, " replied Olive, on whom all suchthings were thrown away; as indeed he had found out long ago, being alittle nettled at the discovery. Not that he was given such, to anyextreme, but then he was a society man, born and bred, with all ofsociety's pleasing little airs, which might have made him a societyfool, if he had not also possessed too much manhood and good commonsense. Between his handsome self, and it being known that he was "oldCongreve's heir, " it's a never ending wonder that he wasn't spoiled; buthe had kept clear headed, and also clear hearted so far, and had come tofind out that there were but few women who were not susceptible toflattery, and who would not drop into a harmless flirtation with littleinvitation. Therefore, when Olive came, and never seemed to regard himas any extraordinary being, he decided to make her; so after tryingindifference, equal to her own awhile, he was somewhat amazed to findthat his was feigned, and hers was too genuine to be complimentary;after which he tried the attentive, which rarely fails to bring a girlaround, and was astonished beyond measure, to find that it was in vain. To be sure, Olive accepted his flowers, sometimes wearing a bud or twoin her hair, and seemed to think it very kind in him to remember her inthat way. And she went riding day after day with him, with the mosthearty enjoyment, for did she not see the most magnificent scenery fromthe mountain roads, round which they cantered in the lovely days? Andthey frequently spent evenings together, when at her request he wouldread aloud from books she might name, and then they would discuss them, when he would find that hers was no ordinary school-girlish mind, thatcould be bent according to another's ideas. And so, at last, he came tofeel a genuine desire to win some feeling from her, since she wasrousing so much in him; but the genuine desire seemed as vain as theformer idle one, for while Olive undoubtedly enjoyed his society, sincehe assisted her in discovering the best sketching points, and was anable conversationalist in what he had read and seen; there was nothingbeyond it, and she would have enjoyed the same, just as well, in any oneelse. Most any girl but Olive, would have come to understand andappreciate, the evident preference he at last professed for her society, above that of the Staunton belles; and most any girl would have beenflattered by the attentions which now bore sincerity in their face; butto Olive they seemed only courtesies paid to her as a guest, for whichshe was grateful, and gave no extra thought. She was wrapped too deeplyin her art to have any thought of lovers, besides she was not at allromantic; all her cravings for affection were satisfied in the homecircle, and the deeper fountains of her heart, that, once reached, would be a well-spring of deathless unchanged devotion, lay deeplyburied now. So it was that Roger Congreve had met the first woman whomhe could not attract in some way, who won from him the strongestfeelings, and gave him nothing in return but polite friendliness; andthat she should be nothing but a seventeen year old girl, was somethingrather humiliating. When the study on the head began, as it did the nextday, it was both a pleasure and almost a pain to him to feel that hemight as well have been a piece of statuary as for all the attention shegave him, aside from the long careful looks her thoughtful eyes bestowedon some particular curve to his nose, or expression about his mouth. Butthen it gave him plenty of time to study the quiet face, with its clearcolorlessness, the lowered eyelids with curling lashes, the nose, thatwas purely aristocratic in its fine outline, and the wavy sweep of brownhair from the high, white brow. The study was always a pleasure to him, and made ten times stronger his resolve to win some feeling andexpression thereof from her. 

"Are you sleepy?" Olive asked once, when he had fallen into a reverie, and was regarding her with eyes dreamily tender. "I'm ready for youreyes now, and that expression will never do. I've put your head and facein an expression of strong defiance, and those eyes would ruin it. Lookreal angry for a minute, and let me catch the expression!--no, not thatway, it's too fierce; but just steady and earnest, as though you weredetermined to do something, whether or no. "

"Very well; look at me now, " he said, turning his eyes on her with aflash of determination, such as set her pencil to work in a hurry. "Iwant to tell you that I have made up my mind to do a certain thing, which I will tell you about when accomplished. "

She was too busy replacing that look on paper to heed the graciouspromise; and he had the questionable pleasure of knowing that he wasentirely forgotten for the next few minutes, save in the capacity of amodel, and that thought accomplished what Olive wanted, for it kept thatlook of roused defiance in his eyes. 

Occasionally old Mr. Congreve would come into the gallery and take alook at the work, on which he would pass some characteristic comment, and then depart, taking Jean with him, and saying to her with a chuckle, that sounded like intense satisfaction:

"Come along with me, Jeanie, and let's leave the young folks alone withtheir drawing. I guess they can manage it better alone;" and Jean wouldgo regretfully, and with an innocent wondering how her staying wouldmake any difference. 

One evening, towards the latter part of September, Roger came up fromthe city, and meeting Olive on the lawn, drew two tickets from hispocket, and threw them into her lap. 

[Illustration: MR. CONGREVE WOULD COME INTO THE GALLERY. ]

"There! The first opera of the season, and pretty early for that, too!but I hear they are rather good, and they give 'Bohemian Girl' to-night, so I bought tickets. Shall we go?"

"Yes, it was kind of you. I would like to hear it very much, " answeredOlive with a pleased smile. "Do you know, I never heard an opera in mylife. "

"Is it possible?" in intense surprise. "Why, we will go every night theyare here, if you say so. "

"Oh, no, " with an air of reproof. "That would be very nice, but tooextravagant. I know money is nothing to you, but then it wouldn't seemright to spend so much for mere pleasure when there are so many poor. "

He looked at her in surprise for a moment, but was too modest to tellthat he gave twice as much to worthy poor as he ever gave to personalpleasure; so the subject dropped, and they were silent until Oliveasked, with a sudden recollection of how she had frequently heard himdescribe ladies' toilets:

"Do they--I will have to ask you because there is no one else--but dothe ladies dress much at opera, here?"

"Just as they please. It is not so popular as formerly. Street dress ismostly worn now. "

"Well, I don't know as it makes any difference, for I've got just somuch to dress in, and would have to wear it anyhow, " said Olive, with acomposed laugh, which indicated how little she cared for what waspopular aside from a polite desire to be becomingly attired in the eyesof her escort. 

"Will you wear some flowers if I will send them up to you?"

"Yes, thank you. "

"Why do you always thank me for every little thing as if we were perfectstrangers?" he exclaimed, with a little impatience, and a sort of vaguefeeling that if she realized or cared for the devotion accompanying theacts, she would accept them more as a matter of course. 

"Why should I not thank you?" with an air of surprise. "Is it any reasonthat I should not be polite since we are well acquainted?"

"No, to be sure not, " with a slight laugh; "but, then--what flowers doyou prefer?"

"Make your own selection. "

"I shall choose white then. Are you going in?"

"Yes; this is Jean's day to go to the doctor's, and I promised to gowith her, " and with a little nod, she walked off and left him where hehad thrown himself on the grass at her feet. 

That night, many a glass was turned towards their box for Roger Congrevewas too eligible not to be a perfect magnet of interest, and any ladythat he might choose to show a slight preference for, became, at once, a target for glances and comments; so, for a while, Olive was consciousof a dazzling battery of eyes and glasses; but Roger noticed, with somewonder, that the fact did not seem to disturb her more than as though ithad been the commonest occurrence in her life. She looked exceedinglywell to-night, dressed entirely in black, with lillies-of-the-valley inher hair, and fastened in the lace at her throat, while the pleasingexcitement brought a bright flash into her eyes, and more color thanusual into the lips that clearly showed their curved outline. 

The evening's amusement began, and progressed pleasurably through thefirst act, to which Olive listened attentively, saying with a littlesigh of regret when the curtain fell:

"How lovely it all is! Ernestine always wanted to go on the stage! Itmust be delightful if one can?"

"Delightful, possibly; but a life of drudgery until one has worked tothe top, and even then, there are hardships, " Roger answered, noting howa look of sadness chased the gay smile from her lips when she spoke ofthe absent sister. Somehow, the place seemed replete with memories ofErnestine; the music which she had often played, the glitter of wealthand fashion that she always loved and longed for, the very atmosphere ofgayety and excitement, such as she had always craved to draw breath in, seemed to recall her now, as Olive, caring so little for it, sat in itsmidst, and lost in memory. Roger regretted that any sadness should haveobtruded itself, and was relieved to see, that when the curtain rose onthe second act, that Olive soon became absorbed in the picturesque gypsyscene and lovely music. The robbery of Florestein was being committedwith the usual success of brilliancy, and the gipsies were taking Frenchleave, when the figure of a woman enters, drops her cloak, and--Rogersees no more. He hears a sudden painful gasp at his side, and turns tosee Olive, whiter than her lilies, rising from her seat slowly, as iffaint. 

"Olive, " he exclaimed, hastily drawing the curtain between them and theaudience, but she put out her hand, and then sank back in her chair, tooweak to stand, for the first time in her life:

"Ernestine!" she said, huskily. "It is Ernestine!"

In incredulous amaze, he looked back at the stage, just as the queen wasleading Florestein off, and he sees a frail-looking figure heaped ingaudy toggery, that looks as though it would drag her down with itsweight; and, above it, is a pale flower-like face, with great dark, weary-looking eyes, and a heavy coronet of yellow hair twisted withtinsel and gauze. 

"How can I go to her?" Olive is saying with intense eagerness, andleaving her seat with a new strength. "Tell me quick, for I must go atonce--tell me, quick. "

"It will do no good, " said Roger, laying a detaining hand on her arm. "Listen to me a moment, Olive, "--as she threw it off in wild impatience. "They would not admit us behind the scenes, and besides, do you not seehow frail and weak she looks? The shock would unfit her for the rest ofthe performance and--"

"What do I care for that? She shall leave them at once. I will go toher. I'll go alone, if you will not go with me, " cried Olive withglowing eyes and trembling lips, and moving towards the door. 

"But she dare not leave, and they would not allow you to see her, " saidRoger earnestly. "Only wait until the performance is over, and we willbe at the stage entrance to meet her as she comes out. It will be bestso; believe me, and trust in my interest, that is doubly deep for yoursake. "

Olive hesitated, but reason conquered, and she came trembling back toher seat, saying in an excited whisper:

"I cannot look at her again; I shall certainly betray myself if I do. Oh, how deathly she looks! I cannot bear it!"

Roger did not doubt her self-control, until the gypsy queen appearedfrom her tent to disturb the love-scene of Thaddeus and Arline; andthen, as Olive started forward and leaned against the box-rail, withparted, colorless lips, he certainly thought the name hovering on themwould escape. But it did not. She pressed her hands tightly togetherand looked down, with such glittering eyes that it is a wonder theirintense gaze did not make itself felt, and draw an answering look fromthe pale, worn queen, who, it was very evident, was making everyparticle of her strength work, to carry her through her part. Rogernoticed, with an excitement almost equal to Olive's, that as sheadvanced to unite the lovers' hands, that she cleared her throat huskilyand grew even yet paler in the tent-lights, and that twice she openedher lips before any sound crossed them. The next moment Olive had sprungto her feet, as with the first words:--

 "Hand to hand, and heart to heart--"

The voice ceased, a thin stream of blood crossed the queen's white lipsand the curtain was rung down in a hurry, as she fell back into thegypsy's arms and was carried off. 

"This way, give me your arm, " said Roger, pausing to say nothing else asthey left the box and made their way through the dim little hall to thestage door. It was locked, and the most imperative and repeated knocks, failed to bring any response; and pitying the trembling eagerness thatmade Olive cling to his arm, he turned back, making all possible hastethrough the auditorium. The greater part of the audience still kepttheir seats to hear what would follow, but several were leaving, so thattheir hurrying through was hardly noticed, though neither gave it athought. Just as they turned into the alley-way, from which the stageentrance led, a hack was seen to drive hurriedly from the door, andOlive's trembling strength almost forsook her, as she gasped out--

"That is she--they are taking her away, --and we do not know where!"

But it only took a moment to find where, to call another hack, helpOlive in, to shout: "To the Virginia!" and then to be rattled off, through the darkness, in frantic haste; as cabby realized, from theexcited order, that greatest speed was wanted. 

Olive spoke no word through that drive, but the moment the hack stoppedbefore the hotel, she sprang from it, and rushed into the house, appealing eagerly to the first one met--

"Where is she--the lady they have just brought in?"

"The actress? Miss Clare? Third floor, but I don't know the number. "

Olive turned to see Roger coming in with a tall, kindly faced man, whohurried up stairs, while Roger said to her:

"It is the doctor, we will follow him;" and together they went up, through the dim halls, and climbing the steep stairs, until they saw himenter a door, around which several curious persons stood, and then Rogerpaused, saying with decision:

"You risk her life if you go in now, when she is in such a condition;the shock might bring on another hemorrhage. "

"I will wait, " said Olive, beginning to feel the stern necessity ofrigid self-control. "But cannot you go in, and ask the doctor how sheis, and ask him how long before I can see her?"

"I will try, wait here;" and Olive waited, while he went to the door, and tapped. She saw that he was refused admittance; but that in a fewmoments the doctor came out, and talked with him, after which theywalked down to where she stood. 

"Dr. Pierce, Olive; and I have told him a few of the sad facts of thecase, " was Roger's hurried introduction and explanation. 

"And can I see her?" asked Olive, with trembling eagerness. 

"I think not, but I am sorry, " was the kindly answer. "The hemorrhagewas not very severe, but she is perfectly prostrated with overwork andexcitement, so that I would dread the effect of any shock. Besides Ihave given her an opiate, from which she may not wake for hours, if ithas the desired effect. "

"But may I not see her when she gets to sleep?" pleaded Olive, tremulously. "I will be very quiet indeed. "

"Yes, you may; I will call you, " answered the doctor, and then some ofthe bystanders brought Olive a chair, and she dropped into it, andleaning her head against the door casing, waited, hardly noticing thatthrough the hour that followed, Roger Congreve stood close by her sideand studied the pale, anxious face, while pondering the revelation madeto him that evening. He had almost decided that she had no heart, simplybecause it had not responded to his; but had she not?

"You may come now, " whispered an attendant, opening the door; and withher heart bounding so that she could scarcely stand, Olive went inslowly, and holding her breath as she drew near the bed whereon lay themotionless figure. Oh, could it be Ernestine? She stood and looked, witheyes blinded by hot tears, and once ventured to touch one of the thinwaxen-like hands lying on the coverlid. Did it seem possible?Light-hearted, beautiful Ernestine Dering, and this white, shadowy, motionless being, one and the same? The face, as seen in the glare oflights, and under its gaudy trappings, was a picture of health, comparedto what it was now, lying on the small, hard pillow, with the goldenhair pushed straight back, and the face as pallid as marble, with sunkeneyes, and pinched, white lips. Olive stood and looked for severalmoments, with the sobs swelling in her throat; then she knelt downbeside the bed, and hid her face in the coverings, and no one disturbedher; but with Ernestine's first move she drew back, and out of sightacross the room, which was needless, for the sleeper only turned herhead, and then sank into that death-like stillness again. 

"Has she been ill long?" asked Olive of the single woman who stillremained in the room. "Do you know anything about her?"

"Oh, yes, miss. I am Madame T----, the prima donna's maid, and I helpeddress Miss Clare to-night, " answered the quiet-faced woman, who wasnearly dead with curiosity, but stood in some awe of the tall, strangeyoung lady. "She has not been strong any of the time since she's beenwith us; but yesterday, Miss Downs took sick, and Mr. Hurst, he's themanager, put Miss Clare in her place, and she's studied and sung everyminute since, to be ready for to-night; and I thought when I dressedher, that she looked more like going into her coffin, than on the stagein all that toggery. She needs proper good care now, or she'll be liketo die;--might you be a--friend, miss?"

"Yes; and I shall remove her from here as soon as she is able. What hasshe in the way of clothes, and where are they?"

"Laws! miss, not much, I guess, only that little trunk there, " answeredthe woman, pointing to what might have been a good sized band-box, thatstood in the corner, and which, in other days would hardly have heldErnestine's sashes, ribbons and trinkets, let alone the smallest cornerof her wardrobe. 

"I am going, " said Roger, tiptoeing carefully to Olive's side. "It ispast eleven, and the carriage will have come for us and gone back, andUncle Ridley will be alarmed. I shall return immediately, and is thereanything you want brought?"

"Yes, " whispered Olive. "Pillows, eight or ten of them, wine, and myblue wrapper; Jean will be asleep; Bettine will get it for you;--that isall, I think;" and he went carefully away, to bear the startling newsout to Congreve Hall; and Olive was left to her lonely vigil, for thetroupe arrived presently from the theatre, and the maid was obliged toattend to Madame T----. Most of the performers had rooms on the thirdfloor, and after a loiter down stairs, came up noisily, singing andchatting right by the sick-room, and Olive was horrified to hear thatthey stopped next door, from which place the merriment continued to flowforth unceasing. Did they not know that the sick girl lay next door, orat least that she was in the house? Olive stood it as long as she could, then sprang to her feet, and in a moment had tapped at the next door. 

The sounds ceased for a moment, then some one threw it open, and thelight flashed on her pale, indignant face and flashing eyes, with thewilted lilies at her throat, and the unmistakable air of a woman "bornto command, " in her erect head, and clear, indignant glance. 

"Are you not aware, "--she had no time to couch her language in pleasingterms, --"Are you not aware that a lady lies at the point of death in thenext room?"

The four men looked at the apparition in silent amaze for a moment, thenone of them said, with an unmistakable hiccough and a silly smile:

"You don't say so! hic, come in, an' tell us all about it. "

"Shut up, Bunce! can't you see it's a lady?" retorted he, who sheepishlyheld the door. "I'm--I'm sorry, mam, " he continued, with a bow to Olive. "I--we--forgot; I hope we've not disturbed her much; there shall be nomore noise, I promise you. "

Olive disappeared, and returned to Ernestine, her heart swelling withfurious indignation. If she had not been there, would the maid have goneto Madame T----, and would the sick girl have been left alone in thatdeath-like stupor? It seemed too heartlessly cruel to be true; Olivecould not understand it. 

Roger Congreve returned just before twelve, and found Olive sittingalone by the sleeper, and his wrath was fully equal to hers. 

"But they all know you are with her, " he said, "and there are all mannerof curious conjectures floating round. Here are pillows, and wine, and Ihave brought Bettine back with me. "

"Oh, I am so glad, " said Olive, with a sigh of relief, "I have beenpondering what I would do if she should wake up. What did Uncle Ridleysay?"

"Say? Why, it was all I could do to keep him from coming here rightaway; and I left him trying to comfort Jean, who was nearly in a spasmof joy. She was awake and insisted on knowing why you did not come;otherwise I should not have told her to-night. Here, Bettine, bring oneof those largest pillows. "

Bettine came forward from where she stood near the door, bringing alarge, soft pillow, very unlike the little hard one on which Ernestine'shead rested; and as Olive carefully lifted the sleeper's head, they wereexchanged, without disturbing the heavy stupefied slumber. 

"I think the manager will be up here in a moment, " said Roger, whenOlive had taken her seat and Bettine had retreated to the corner, wipingher eyes on the rough little pillow-case; and even as he spoke, therecame steps in the hall and a slight tap at the door, and Bettineadmitted the doctor, followed by a tall, surly-faced man, who lookedfiercely around the room, and scowled at Olive, who took her seat by thebed, with an instinctive feeling that the unconscious sleeper might needher protection. 

"You see for yourself, " said the doctor, stepping to the bed with thestranger, after having bowed to Olive and Roger. "She is alive, andreally doing better than I expected; but a slight turn may be herinstant death, or she may live several months yet with perfect rest andcomfort. She can never be of further use to you, for her last note hadbeen sung, and her last act given. "

The manager scowled down at the death-like sleeper. 

"Nevertheless, I have a claim on her. I paid her fifty dollars inadvance to buy necessary stage-wardrobe, " he said, with a heartlesscoolness. "I never was such a fool before, but she had a fine voice andgood stage air, and I thought she'd last. "

Almost before he finished speaking, Olive had leaped to her feet withflashing eyes and quivering white lips, but before she could speak, Roger's quiet voice interrupted:

"Will you step this way, sir, and make out your bill against the younglady? I am quite ready to cancel all or any demands. "

The manager turned and looked at him for a moment, in silence, thencrossed the room with a shrug of his shoulders, and took the pencil heldout to him, also the little page of blanks. 

"Sign her release, while I make out your check, " said Roger, drawing hisbank book from his pocket, and hastily filling a page, while the managerslowly scrawled a few words on the blank, attached his name, and passedit over, receiving the check in exchange. 

"It's not half what I ought to receive, " he said, with surly grimace. "Here I've got to go and look up some one else, and she made theperformance fizzle out to-night, besides being a deal of trouble allalong with her delicate airs. "

"Leave the room!" cried Olive fiercely, trembling and white withuncontrollable rage. "You have killed her. I hope you will remember itto your last day. You are her murderer, and whatever you paid her, it ismore than likely she had given her life to work out for you, so what youare paid now is wages for your brutish work. Leave the room, I say; youhave no longer a right here, nor any claim, if indeed you ever had one, for I tell you I don't believe you ever paid her a cent, even what youowed her, and you shall not breathe the same air with her longer. "

"Young woman, be careful!" thundered the manager, growing an iratescarlet, as the fiercely uttered words rolled in upon him; but Olive methis gaze with flashing, undaunted eyes, and then the good doctorrecovered from his speechless amaze and came between them, after which, Bettine, trembling with awe and fright, let the two gentlemen out. Olivedropped back into her seat, and through it all, Ernestine slept, herthin hands folded over her quiet bosom, and an air of utter repose onher face, as of one too near another world to heed struggles in this, even though they reached her weary hearing. 

So the night wore on, and save the doctor returning for a moment, uttersilence reigned. Olive never moved from her low seat by the bed, withher face hid. Bettine dropped asleep in her chair, and Roger, over bythe window, found that his busy thoughts kept him awake for hours, butthat he finally grew drowsy, and at last dropped into a doze, with hishead against the casing. 

As the city bell tolled the hour of three, Ernestine opened her eyesslowly, with a weary air that seemed like regret, and looked about thedimly lighted room, with only a half conscious air. Roger received aslow wondering look, then Bettine, and then her eyes fell on the figureby the bed, with crushed white flowers in her hair, and face bowed fromsight; but it seemed to matter little who they all were, for she made nomove and looked away beyond them all, with a dreamy air of lingeringstupor, that still held thoughts and memory in check. But presently abrighter light of reason crept into the eyes that made them open widerand look about once more at the three silent figures, with more wonderand closer attention, and at last she put out her hand slowly, andtouched the bowed head beside her; and startled by the light pressure, Olive raised her head quickly, and they looked at each other. 

For a moment her heart stood still in terror, as the dark eyes rested onher face, then there came a feeble, husky moan of delirious joy. "Olive!Oh, Olive!" and Roger, wakened by the slight sound, sprang up, to findErnestine fainted entirely away, and Olive rushed wildly for water; atwhich Bettine also awakened, and shaking with fright, as her firstthought was, that Ernestine was dying. But she was not, for withmoistened lips and dampened brow, they brought a feeble flutter of lifeback, and with the first lifting of the eyelids, Olive bent down to layher lips to those that tried to speak. 

"Not another word for your life's sake, darling. I am here. I am goingto take you home to mama, but you must not speak. "

Words cannot describe the incredulous joy and perfect peace that touchedthe wan face at the words, nor the bewildering happiness that lightedthe sunken eyes, as the feeble arms tried to clasp themselves aboutOlive's neck, but fell weakly down. 

Roger found his eyes blinded by tears as he stepped back to get thewine. "Give her some, " he said, handing the glass to Olive, and slippinghis arm under Ernestine's pillow to raise her head slightly, andErnestine sipped slowly at the wine held to her lips, never once movingher eyes from Olive's face, then lay back with that contented, peacefullook, like some who, from facing despair, desperation, and the bitterestheart-ache, suddenly find themselves cradled in perfect peace, with notrouble, no want, no sadness, and too weak to wonder, hold fast theirwild joy and are content. 

For a long time it seemed as though Ernestine cared to know nothing, save that Olive was beside her, held her hand, and bent to kiss herevery few moments; but, after a long time her eyes went to Roger, asthough she had just discovered his presence, and Olive answered thequestion in them. 

"It is our Cousin Roger, dear, and Uncle Ridley, and Jean will be herein the morning; can't you go to sleep, so as to be stronger then?"

Ernestine's lips trembled with joy, but she shut her eyes instantly, asthough to win sleep and hasten the morning; but no sleep came, and sotill daylight touched the world, Olive sat and held the hands thattrembled eagerly, as the moments went by. At last, she grew perfectlyquiet, and Olive, knowing she had dropped asleep drew back from thelong-held position that had made every muscle ache. 

"Won't you lie down?" whispered Roger. "You look like a ghost. I amgoing to sit out in the hall so as to keep things quiet when theboarders begin to leave their rooms. "

"How good you are!" said Olive, looking up at him with a suddengratitude, and noting how pale and worn he looked from the long night ofsleeplessness and anxiety. "I can never thank you. "

"Do not try, " he answered, pressing the hand she had held out to him, and looking at her with eyes she could not have failed to read had shenot been in such a tumult of absorbing thoughts, and then he wentcarefully out, and Olive, bidding sleepy Bettine to lie down, took herseat again by the bed, and daylight came up brightly, while she watchedErnestine's sleeping face, with eyes that were continually blinded bythankful tears. 

Soon after breakfast, the carriage from the Hall came dashing up to theVirginia, and in a few moments, Mr. Congreve was stamping hurriedly upstairs, while James followed, carrying Jean, who was trembling like aleaf with eager excitement. 

"God bless my soul! I never did!" cried Mr. Congreve, as Roger, hearingthem coming, met them at the top of the last flight. "Such thunderingstairs! Why I sha'n't breathe straight again for a month, and I don'twant to go in on the dear child puffing like a crazy porpoise. Let mesit right down here to blow my nose and get my breath. How is she, Roger?"

"Better this morning. She ate a little breakfast and drank some wine, but is very weak yet. Jeanie, that is the room. You may go in, but goquietly, " said Roger, and Jean, being placed on the floor, almost forgotto use her cane, as she limped hurriedly along. 

Ernestine was watching the door with eager, hungry eyes, and the momentJean appeared, she held out her feeble hands, and the next moment, Jean's kisses were covering her face, and the little girl was saying injoyous eagerness:

"I knew God would bring you back. I've asked Him every night since youwent away. Oh, my precious, darling, Ernestine, I'm so glad that I can'thelp crying, " the delighted sobs bubbling up as she spoke; whileErnestine, forbidden to speak, fondled the curly hair and dear littleface, and feebly smiled her happiness. 

"Well, my child, God bless you, I'm glad we've got you again, " was Mr. Congreve's greeting, as he came in, making every effort not to be noisyor speak too loud, in consequence of which, his voice was dropped to asepulchral whisper, and he walked as if the floor was spread with eggs. But his kind, sharp eyes were full of tears, his voice shook, and heheld her frail hand as though it was a precious wafer, that slightpressure might demolish. 

"The doctor was here, just now, " said Olive, "He says we may take herout home by to-morrow, if she continues to do well. "

"Yes, yes, to be sure, " answered Mr. Congreve, retreating to the cornerand employing both hands and an immense handkerchief to wipe away thetears. "Has the child everything that she wants, Olive? I--God bless mysoul! she looks half dead already, as though she had been starved andtreated like a dog! Confound my eyes! but then I must cry; I'd like totake a good out and out bellow, I would, indeed; I haven't felt sostuffed with tears for fifty years. Have you sent word to your mother?"

"No; I wanted to ask you about it. Ernestine is out of danger, and yet, if mama knows she is found and so ill, it will make her sick withanxiety and waiting, so I thought we had better wait until she is ableto be taken home, then write. "

"Just so, exactly; you're right, no doubt. I hope the dear child can bemoved to-morrow, for this place is like a musty chicken coop; I wouldn'tput my worst enemy's dog in such a room, and I think I'll go down andblow off my feelings by telling the man who runs this shanty, just whatI think of him;" and away went the excited old gentleman in a hurry, after telling Olive once more to spare no expense, if the dear childwanted anything. 

The next day Ernestine was taken to Congreve Hall. 

How many times had the girls thought of Ernestine, with her beauty, hergrace, and queenly little airs, as being in Congreve Hall. How they hadimagined her ornamenting its stately rooms, sweeping through the greathalls, and queening it to her happy heart's content, a fit inmate to itssplendor. 

Now, on a bed, that could be lifted from the carriage, by two carefulservants, and slowly taken in at the great entrance, wan, wasted, andhelpless, Ernestine was going into Congreve Hall at last. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

COMING HOME. 

"We haven't had a letter from Olive this week, " said Bea, breaking asilence that had fallen upon them, as they sat sewing in the cheerfulsitting-room. "How long she has been gone! Isn't it most time for her tobe coming home, mama?"

"She was to stay as long as she was enjoying herself, and pleasing UncleRidley, " answered Mrs. Dering. "I hardly thought she would stay so longon account of her studies, but from what she writes about the sceneryand gallery of pictures at Congreve, I suppose she is having a littleartistic revelry that is very pleasant. "

"Well, she has forever lost place in my eyes, " said Kat severely, "fornot snubbing that chap. 'Cousin Roger, ' she calls him! Stuff! He's nomore our cousin than I'm your uncle; and he's to own the Hall, when itought to be ours. I should think his conscience would wear a hole rightthrough him, and if she brings that picture of his head home with her, I'll jab the carving-fork into it, sure's the world!"

"It would make you feel better, I've no doubt, " remarked Kittie, who satby the window stitching ruffles, with a lady-like air, while a greatbouquet ornamented the sill, shedding its fragrance through the room; ithaving been brought that morning by the polite colored man fromRaymond's, with a tiny, three-cornered card, fastened to a rose-bud, andreading:

 "FOR MISS KITTIE, FROM PANSY, "

in crazy-looking capitals. 

"Well, I don't see how she can, " said Kat, "be so polite to a fellow whois paddling about in our canoe, while we flounder in the water, and getalong the best we can. I think it's too mean. "

"But it's not his fault, " remonstrated Bea. "Uncle Ridley has a right toleave his money and house where he pleases; and I'm sure I can't seewhat right we have to fuss, especially after all he's done for us. "

"We have too much to be thankful for to make complaints of any kind, "said Mrs. Dering, looking out of the window, as the gate was heard toslam. "There comes a boy! You may go to the door, Kat, as you don'tappear to be doing anything. "

Kat lifted herself from the floor with a yawn, and strolled lazily outto the door, but came back in a moment, with quicker steps, and lesscolor in her face. 

"It's a despatch, " she said, holding out the envelope that always bearsalarm in its very face; and Mrs. Dering took it quickly, while the girlshung round her chair in anxiety. Was Olive or Jean sick? Neither. Thepaper unfolded, briefly read:

 "I will be home on Wednesday with Ernestine. She is quite ill. Meet the train with an easy carriage and pillows, and with Dr. B. 

 "OLIVE. "

For a moment not a sound broke the stillness, then Mrs. Dering droppedthe paper, and hid her face in her hands, and the girls knew that herfirst thought was to return thanks for this answer to her long, yearningprayers. A moment after, it was as though a whirlwind had struck thepeaceful room; no one seemed to know, in the excitement that possessedthem, just what it was they wanted to say or do, and between the joy andanxiety that the news occasioned, they all laughed and criedalternately. 

"To-morrow is Wednesday, and Ernestine will be here. Oh, don't it seemtoo happy to be true, " cried Kittie, wiping away her tears with a strandof ruffling. "How do you suppose it ever happened? I can hardly wait;what shall we do to make time pass?"

There proved to be plenty to keep their hands in keeping with theirthoughts, for a room must be prepared for the invalid, and thoroughlyprepared, too. They went to work on it that afternoon, first building abright fire in the great fire-place, and throwing open all the windowsto let the sunshine pour in. How strange it seemed; how happy, and yethow sad! Ernestine coming home! Not dead nor lost, but coming home, feeble and helpless! Where had she been all these long, weary months?and had any of their heart-aches and longings reached her? Perhaps shehad been sick and alone, had not known of their eager search, or beenable to drag herself back to them. 

The girls laughed and cried, while they swept, and dusted, and made upthe bed like a snow-bank, ready turned down to admit the weary form. Thewhitest, most beautifully fluted curtains were hung before the windows, whose panes glistened like diamonds from hot soap-suds and crisprubbings. All the pretty knick-knacks were brought in and put upon thewalls with an eye to Ernestine's graceful little fancy likings. Theeasiest chairs, and prettiest rugs--in short, when finished, it was alittle bower, and Kittie put the finishing touches in the way of flowersand vines, that, together, with the sunshine, made a sick-room ofperfection to greet the coming invalid. Mrs. Dering went down to Mr. Phillips's to get Prince and the buggy, and found that the news hadpreceded her. The telegram had been repeated, and in an hour's time hadpretty near made the circle of Canfield; so her appearance was greetedwith joyful congratulations and sympathetic rejoicing; for Canfield hadtaken the matter to heart, and having grieved with the family, were nowprepared to rejoice with it also. Miss Clara Raymond met Mrs Dering onher way to Mr. Phillips's, and offered their carriage, which wasgratefully accepted, as it was large, low, and easy, and much morecomfortable than the buggy for an invalid. 

Little sleeping was done that night, and in the morning the girls cookedevery dainty that Ernestine had ever loved. They cleaned the whole housetill it shone, under the stress of excitement; and, as train time drewnear, they fairly grew weak and sick with anxiety and suspense. Mrs. Dering did not say much, but when the carriage came, and she put on herhat, while the girls got the pillows, they saw that she was pale andtrembling, and that her voice shook beyond control when she gave Dr. Barnett a smiling "good-morning. "

There was nothing left to do, so after the carriage drove away the threegirls sat on the steps, with their hands clasped, and waited. Kittiemade one or two flying trips up stairs to see if everything was reallybeyond further improvement, while Kat vibrated nervously between theporch and the gate, and Bea sat still, looking at her ring, andwondering if Ernestine would like the giver, and what she would say. 

"There!" cried Kat at last, with a nervous jump. "The train is in, nowin just a little bit--"

It is possible that there was not a heart in Canfield but gave anexpectant throb when the rumble and roar of the train shook the littleplace to its centre, and was heard to stop, a thing it did not often do;and there were but few who did not imagine, and earnestly sympathizewith the joy it was bringing to one home in their midst. 

"There they come! Oh, girls I feel perfectly faint, " cried Kittie, making a grasp at the gate post, to sustain her trembling excited self. "How slow and careful, --she must be so sick. "

No one answered, but six eager eyes watched, and three throbbing heartswaited, as the horses came with slow steps, and the carriage rolledcarefully along. The top had been raised, and curious gazers along theway could see nothing; neither could the girls, when at last the gatewas reached, but though they went out, something restrained their eagerjoyous welcome, and they said nothing. 

Olive got out first, then Mrs. Dering, and Dr. Barnett, and then came astrange gentleman, bearing a perfectly helpless and evidentlyunconscious figure, with its face covered; and the girls shrank back tolet them pass, then surrounded Olive with eager, trembling questions. 

"She has fainted, " Olive said. "She kept growing more excited after weleft New York, and I thought she would faint when we came in sight ofCanfield, but she didn't until the train stopped; and then the momentshe saw mama, she tried to speak, and fainted right away. "

There was no time to ask, or answer further questions, as they hurriedinto the house and up stairs, where Ernestine had been carried, and laidupon the soft, snowy bed; but after one glance at her unconscious face, they drew back and burst into tears. Olive was talking to the strangegentleman, for whose name no one had thought to inquire, and Dr. Barnettand Mrs. Dering hung over the bed, winning life back to the fragilefigure thereon. They all saw the first opening of her eyes, that wentstraight to one dear face, saw the feeble arms lifted with a strength, born of joy, and heard the sobbing cry:

"Mama, mama! darling mama!" and everybody cried. 

After awhile the girls went in and kissed her quietly, then the room wasordered to be cleared, and under the influence of an opiate, Ernestinesank to sleep, with her hands clasping those of the dear woman who was, and would be always, "mama. "

When they went down stairs, Olive presented them to Cousin Roger, andtold in few words of all his kindness; and Kat, the vivacious, who hatedand longed to see him removed from the face of the earth, was seen todrop two big tears on his hand that she was shaking heartily. ToBeatrice came the same vague, uncertain feeling that Olive hadexperienced when first seeing him, and he caught the same bewilderedlook in her eyes. 

Had she ever seen him before? If not, what was it in his face thatreminded her of--something?

Mrs. Dering did not leave Ernestine's side again that day. Olive came upwith her, and they held a long conversation in low voices; and a look ofperfect content was seen to drift into the mother's pale, anxious face, as she listened how Jean was growing well, and then looked down at thequiet sleeper--the one who had been snatched from the burning, and givenback into her arms. 

"Just think, if I had not gone to Virginia?" Olive said that evening, while they were all in the kitchen, doing up the supper work. "It reallymakes me tremble to think how I did not want to go, and hesitated aboutit. "

"If I had been you, I should have screamed right out when she came onthe stage, " said Kat, unable to imagine herself in such a position andremaining quiet. "How did you feel, Olive?"

"So weak that I could not move, I never came so near losing my senses inmy life, and it is such a dreadful feeling that you can't scream. It wasdreadful to sit there and watch her, and when the hemorrhage came, Ijust jumped and ran. "

"Dear me, how you must have felt, " said Kittie with a shiver, as shepolished a tumbler brightly, and put it back in the water to every one'samusement. 

"I don't know what I would have done without Cousin Roger, " said Olive. "He was so kind and thoughtful. "

"Who does he make me think of?" asked Bea, which caused Olive to look upin surprise. 

"How strange; he reminds me of some one, too, and it worried me so for awhile, but I thought it was nonsense, and never spoke about it, " shesaid. 

"Well, I s'pose it is a notion, " answered Bea, and then talk went backto Ernestine and Jean, of whom, it seemed, enough could never be told. 

The next day, a little discovery was made to the girls. 

Mr. Congreve was seen walking about in the fresh autumn sunshine, beforebreakfast, and the girls saw him gathering a small cluster of flowers, selecting from the dewy bunches with much care; and after a while Olive, who had slept late with fatigue, came down in her grey wrapper with itsblue facings, and part of the flowers were in her wavy hair, and part ather throat, with a little knot of ribbon. 

"Good gracious!" cried Kat, rushing into the kitchen with a tragicexpression, and setting a pile of dishes on the table with some force. "Do you see that? What's this family coming to?"

"Dust, " responded Kittie calmly. "What's the matter, Kat?"

"Do you mean to tell me you didn't see Olive wearing the flowers hegathered before breakfast, and that you didn't see how he looked at herat the table?" cried Kat impatiently. 

"That's the way they all do; it's the first symptoms I guess, for it'sthe way that Bea and Dr. Barnett began. "

"Oh, the idea, " laughed Kittie, "of Olive being in love. "

"I don't care, perhaps she isn't, but he is, " asserted Kat, with anappeal to Bea, who had just come in. 

"I don't know, " said Bea. "I saw him give her the flowers, and fastenthose in her hair, but I don't think it's anything. "

"Well, you watch--there they go now!" exclaimed Kat, whereupon they allrushed to the window, to see Olive and Roger strolling out among theflowers. 

"Would you ever think that was Olive?" said Kittie, as they looked. "Think how quiet and snappy she used to be, and how ugly she alwayslooked, and just see how pretty she is now, and how she laughs andtalks. But she's not in love, dear no; she looks as cool and dignifiedas a cucumber, not a bit blushy, or anything of the kind. "

"Well, I should hope not, " said Kat severely. "One engaged sister isenough; two would ruin the family. "

"If such a thing was to happen, " remarked Bea, with a little mercenaryexpectation, "Congreve Hall would be Olive's; just think of it, girls, how grand! and Cousin Roger is immensely wealthy, and there would be noend of splendid things;" and Bea sighed a little, as she spoke, for shewas not going to win any wealth or grand home by her wedding, and therecame, just now, a little moment of regret, that such would never behers. Then she looked at her ring, and felt wicked and ungrateful. Wouldshe exchange with Olive, or any other girl who might win wealth? No, no, never!

"Well, dear suz, what a funny place the world is, " said Kat. "Here I'vejust hated that Roger Congreve, and now I could bless him forever, forbeing so good and kind, and after all, perhaps he'll be my brother, andCongreve Hall come back to us. I don't like it though, " she added, withenergy, "we're all getting broken up some way; it don't seem like oldtimes, and I don't want any of us to get married! It's horrid, and Inever will. Now Ernestine is home, I'd rather be poor all the days of mylife, and have us all stay together, and never get old, or big. "

"Very good, but 'buds will be roses, and kittens, cats, ' as Jo says, "answered Bea, going off with a laugh. 

Ernestine was still too weak to see or say much this day. She had beenmuch better on leaving Virginia, and as the trip home was taken in themost luxurious way afforded to travellers, she might have stood it verywell, had it not been for the nervous excitement that completelyprostrated her before home was reached. So Dr. Barnett prescribed themost perfect quiet, which was given, the girls only going in on tiptoe, now and then, to carry some little dainty, or smile their lovingwelcome, while Mrs. Dering spent all of her time at the bed side. Ernestine seemed perfectly content, for she lay for hours, withdreamy eyes fixed on Mrs. Dering's face, and never spoke or moved, as though she had been beaten and bruised by her brief struggle withthe world, and only wanted to lie at peace, with one dear face inconstant sight; and to let her tired life drift in or out. The changewas heart-breaking, and drove the girls from her room at every visit, tohide their tears, and think, as in a dream, of the time when Ernestine, gay, frivolous, careless-hearted girl, was the sunshine of the house, the one being who seemed to never feel or know the touch of care orsadness. 

Roger was to go back the second day, and on the evening before, he said:

"The scenery about this little place is perfectly beautiful. DoesCanfield afford a livery stable, Olive? If so, I will get a buggy in themorning, and you shall pilot me around the country. "

Kat sent an expressive wink and nod of her head to Kittie and Bea, whileOlive answered:

"There is a small one, I believe, where you might find something. "

"Perhaps they'd loan you their wheel-barrow, " added Kat, who foundherself in a fair way of liking this distant relative, in spite of hisusurping what she termed the family position. 

So next morning Roger went down town, and came back in a ratherdilapidated buggy, with a lamb-like looking horse, and said with alaugh, as he helped Olive in:

"The very best your city affords; I hope it will not break with us, formy life is not insured. "

"My mind's eye rests lovingly on Congreve Hall, as presided over by myartistic sister, " cried Kat, with a dramatic gesture, as they drove off;and the next moment she was looking after them with a touch of regretfulsadness in her face. 

"I don't like it, " she said. "Bea gone, Olive going, Jean way off, Ernestine so changed;--oh, Kittie! when anything happens to you, I willbe ruined for sure. You don't think you are going to fall in love, or besick, or go away, or anything; do you?"

"Nonsense, " said Kittie, but gave an expressive hug that was soothingand satisfactory, and set Kat's heart at rest. 

The ride in that clear morning air, brought a warm stain of color intoOlive's clear cheeks, and a sparkle to her eyes, that was very becoming;and she laughed and talked, in a careless, happy way, that left no doubtin her companion's mind as to her perfect ignorance of his love, andmade him more determined not to return to Virginia, leaving her inignorance. 

It was difficult to approach the subject, while her mind was so far awayfrom it, and his perfect assurance as to her answer made it still harderfor him. But Olive unconsciously led the way at last, for she wastalking of their trip home, and dwelling gratefully on his care andkindness, her eyes bright with feeling, as she turned them to himsuddenly:

"You have helped me through it all, " she said. "I wish I could thank youfor all your thoughtful kindness. "

They were rolling lazily around a hill, with autumn colors on everyside, and autumn's soft winds fanning the air into life, and Olivethought the answer she received was some deceptive flutter of theirwings. 

"Do not try, " he was saying. "Every care or anxiety you have felt havebeen to me as my own. I have tried to show you what you were to me, andI have failed, but you cannot help but understand me, when I say that Ilove you, Olive. "

She did not take her eyes from a distant hill-top, where their glancehad rested, neither did she blush or look pleased when he finished, butwas as silent for a moment as though studying on what he had said; thenlooked at him slowly:

"You surely do not mean it?"

"I surely do mean it, and have tried to make you see and know it, forweeks past, but your answer now is only what I had expected, for thoughI at first thought your indifference feigned, I soon came to see thatneither I, nor any other man had ever received a thought from you, andto fear that I never would. You seemed wedded to your love of art, butnow, when you know that I love you, cannot you find a little feelingsomewhere in your heart for me, Olive?"

"No, I cannot, " answered Olive, after a moment, and with the air of onewho had been literally hunting for something, and failed to find it. "Icould not help but think a great deal of you, when you made my visit sopleasant, and then was so kind when trouble came; but I never dreamedthat you loved me; I really think you must be mistaken, it seems sostrange. Why do you?"

There was no misunderstanding the honest wonder in her eyes, as sheasked the question, and no possibility of construing it into a desirefor flattery. 

"I have loved you, " he said, "ever since that first sad night, so longago, when you showed a womanly strength--"

"What night?" she asked eagerly, the old vague remembrance coming backto her; and, at the interruption, he looked at her in amaze. 

"Is it possible you do not remember?" he asked. 

"No, I do not; but the moment I saw you, there seemed a remembrance thathas worried me ever since. What is it?"

For a moment he hesitated to tell her. 

"It was I, who brought your father home, " he said, at last; and with aswift, painful recollection, she dropped her face into her hands, andsaid nothing. 

"When you came to the Hall, " he went on presently, "and was introducedto me, there was such an air of surprise, together with a look of painin your face, that I immediately supposed you remembered me, and thatthe memory was painful, so I never spoke of it. I was travelling here inNew York, and was on the train just a few seats behind your father. Isaw him when he received the blow on the temple, and went to him as soonas possible, and was the one asked to see him brought safely to hishome. I did not know, until my return home, two weeks later, that it wasUncle Ridley's nephew. "

After he finished speaking, they rode in silence for a long way, and thepeaceful old horse, finding himself unguided, turned his head homeward, and jogged off more lively. Olive did not look up again. She wasevidently lost in sad memories, that his words awakened, and he had notthe heart to bring her back to a subject so foreign to her thoughts ashis love. So in silence, they reached home, and, as he helped her fromthe buggy, Olive said with trembling lips:

"I'm glad it was you. I loved papa better than any one in the world, andI can never forget that you saw him last and tried to help him. " Then, after telling her mother and the girls their additional cause forgratitude to him, she went off to her room, and was not seen again forsome time; for when affected so that tears were her only relief, shealways took them alone. 

Roger went that night. He spent the afternoon sitting in Ernestine'sroom with them all, and telling over and over the last moments of Mr. Dering, what he had overheard him saying to another passenger just a fewmoments before the accident; just how the blow came, so quick andpainless, and how his last words had been of home, and how they would besurprised at his sudden departure. 

Olive was not present, and fearing that Roger might consider it rude, Mrs. Dering explained the little habit of taking all her grief alone, and how the reminding of that sad night had doubtless overcome her. ButOlive came down just before supper, and her face showed plainer thanever before, its traces of heavy tears, though she said nothing aboutit, and seemed to think her absence explained itself to the only one towhom an explanation was due. 

While the girls were busy in the kitchen, and mother was with Ernestine, they were alone in the sitting-room, and Roger said to her, as theystood by the window, watching the shadows creep through the yard, andlift themselves in a misty cloud:

"Olive, have you no other answer for me, before I go?"

"No, " said Olive, slowly. "You seem so different to me. In one way, Ilove you; I could not help it; and, in another way, you are nothing tome. I wish you would forget that you ever thought you loved me, and letme feel as though you were my brother. "

"I cannot, " he answered. "I do not think that I love you, but I _know_that I do, and that I always will; and some time, when you are older, and come to feel that home-love and art cannot satisfy you, I will comeback and try to win a place in the new yearning. "

"You needn't, " said Olive, with discouraging honesty. "I shall neverlove any one that way. I don't want to. All I want is mama and thegirls, and to study until I am satisfied with myself, or as near it as Ican be. But you mustn't let that keep you away; you will forget this, indeed, you will, and must come and see us often, and then everythingwill be delightful. "

"No; I shall never come until I feel that I do not come in vain. Do notdoubt my love, Olive, because your own heart is so free from it. It is agirlish heart, and when it reaches womanhood, I may not be the one tosatisfy it, but I will come and try. "

CHAPTER XX. 

A SAD STORY. 

Ernestine was getting better, and how could she help it, with everythingheart could wish, perfect peace and quiet, and six devoted hearts andpairs of hands, ready to obey her slightest command. She did not issuemany, for one of the changes that had come to her, was asking forlittle, complaining of nothing, even her own suffering, but lying still, patient, contented, unselfish and quiet. She seemed grateful and pleasedat the least little act of kindness, a thing she would have acceptedbefore as a matter-of-course, and complained at not receiving; and aftershe grew stronger, and the girls resumed their gayeties, she neverseemed to regret for a moment, that she was removed from all such, andmust lie still, day after day; when before, it was intolerable to pass asingle day without something to pass away her gleeful spirits withCanfield, with its promising circle of girls, budding into youngladyhood, was beginning to put on quite a number of social airs, in theway of little dances, nutting parties, one or two literary clubs, and acard club; which acted upon the little place, like a fresh springbreeze, blowing in upon a pile of peaceful autumn leaves. The Deringgirls were popular, and partook largely in all these innocentfestivities, bringing gay accounts of them to Ernestine, to which shelistened, with a quiet smile, but with never a wish to be in them. Nothing seemed to interest her so much, as the new experience anddignity that had fallen upon Beatrice; and for hours they would chattogether of the new plans, and tender little fancies, which Bea had notthe courage to confess to others, and Ernestine, bolstered up withpillows, would listen, and now and then, do a little of the pretty workthat was going on to the bridal garments. 

After a while, when she grew strong enough to talk more, and cough less, she told them of her life, while they had been separated, and the girlsnever forgot the day on which they listened to it. She was partlysitting up in bed, as colorless as the snowy ruffled linen about her, with her beautiful golden hair in the old-time waves, and curly ends;her lovely eyes, with their liquid brown lights and heavy lashes, andthe dainty ruffles to her snowy night-dress, fastened at the throat witha fragile bit of coral, that seemed to throw a shade of its exquisitecoloring into her stainless face. 

It was a lovely home-scene, for the girls were sewing in their lowrocking-chairs, Olive was sketching at the window, Mrs. Dering sat atthe bedside holding Ernestine's hand, and over them all the autumnsunshine fell, warm and sweet, as with a touch of loving benediction;and the trill of Jeanie's canary down stairs, was the only sound, saveErnestine's low voice, sad and sweet, in its feebleness. 

"I went on the midnight train, you know, " she was saying. "It seemedterrible, and with all the people around, I felt as if I was the onlyperson out in the night. Oh, it is too horrible to feel so alone and asthough no one knew, or cared where you were going, or what terribletrouble you might be in. Nearly everybody in the car was asleep, andthere was only one lady; so I sat down behind her, and for a long time Iwas so miserable myself that I didn't notice her; then her baby woke up, and began to cry, so did her little girl, and I saw that she was sick orsomething; so in a little bit, I spoke to her, and asked if I could doanything. She said no, at first, but afterwards said if I would take thebaby a moment, as she felt so sick and faint; so I did, and he seemed soastonished that he stopped crying, and then the little girl wanted tocome over in my seat, and I helped her over, and told the lady to liedown, as she looked very pale. I knew she was astonished at my beingalone, and thought that she might ask my name, and after thinking aboutit a while, I decided to take my very own name, my--mother's, " with alittle choke over the name. "She did ask me in a little while, said Ilooked so young, and why was I travelling alone; and I told her that Iwas an orphan, that my name was Florence Clare, and that I was on my wayto New York; and then she looked so kind and interested that I burstright out crying. I couldn't help it. She didn't ask me any more then, but when we got to New York, no one met her, and she was terriblyworried. She asked me where I was going, and I was afraid she wouldthink something was wrong if I told her I didn't know where; so I justgave any street and number, but I said that if she wanted me to go andhelp her, I could just as well as not, as no one was expecting meanywhere. She seemed very glad, so I carried the children out, and aftera policeman had called a hack for her, we went to the St. Nicholas; shewas very sick after we got there, and after I put the children to sleep, I sat up with her nearly all night. She was a widow, she said, and hadwritten to a friend in New York to meet her on that train, but that, probably, he had not received the letter; and that she wanted to goright on to Boston, next morning, if she was able. I asked her then ifshe did not want me to go with her, to take care of the children, that Iwas all alone in the world, and obliged to work some way and somewhere, and after asking me a great many questions, she said she would thinkabout it. She seemed like a very good, kind lady, and I was afraid shewould think there was something strange about me, so I made my storysound just as good as possible. I said I was coming to the city becauseI thought I could find work better than in a small place, and that I hadno near relatives in the world, and would like to go with her, becauseshe looked kind, and I would just as soon take care of children asanything else. She looked at my clothes, but they were my very plainest;and then she asked me what baggage I had, and I showed her my satchel, with nothing but some clothes in it, and then she said that I lookedtruthful, and too young and pretty to be alone in the city, and that Ishould go on with her in the morning. I don't know what I would havedone if it hadn't been for her, for when I was on the train, I had noidea where I would go or what I would do. Before I left home, I tried tofeel right, to forget who I was, but I couldn't; my head kept aching, and I thought every day that it ached harder, and that pretty soon Iwould be crazy; and then I thought of going away where I could never befound, and die somewhere, and something made me go. It seemed as if Iwas being pulled away, and every time I heard any of the girls say'mama, ' it came to me that you wasn't my mama, that the girls were notmy sisters, then my head ached harder than ever and I couldn't cry. Ithought God must surely feel sorry for me, and that he sent the lady onpurpose--" and as Ernestine paused to cough and get breath, severaltears were smuggled out of sight by her listeners, and Mrs. Dering'svoice trembled, as she kissed the speaker, and said:

"He did, dear; believe it, I asked Him to care for and watch over you, wherever you might be, and I knew that He would. "

"I went on to Boston with her, " continued Ernestine, after a moment'srest. "I knew you would never find me there, and I didn't want to knowthat you ever looked for me; I knew you would, but I didn't want to hearabout it. For awhile the lady watched me very closely, and I knew shewas a little distrustful, but the children liked me, and though the worknearly killed me, I kept up. I was with the children constantly, slept, ate, and went out with them, washed, dressed and took care of them frommorning 'till night; and sometimes I wished I could die, I was so tiredand unhappy. I did not intend to stay with her, but meant to go on thestage just as soon as possible, though I never saw the papers, and hadno chance of finding the names of companies. Once I asked to see thepapers, but she didn't like it; she was never unkind really, but shealways seemed a little suspicious, and when I asked for the paper, sheasked what I wanted it for? I had a good place, and no need of thepapers. I didn't want to tell her, for fear she would turn me off, so Ijust waited. One day I was singing the baby to sleep; it was the firsttime I had ever sung in her house, and she happened to hear me, and camein and complimented my voice, said how beautiful it was, and why didn'tI use it, instead of wearing my life out nursing babies. I said rightaway that I wanted to, and meant to go on the stage as soon as I could;then she was angry, and threatened to find another girl if I did not atonce give up such a notion. I promised I would, but I didn't and a fewdays later, I was out with the children, and saw an advertisement forfifty girls wanted at a play, and as soon as I got back, I told her Iwas going to leave. She was very angry, and kept that week's wages, butI went, and the next day I answered the advertisement. It was for girlsto dance, and I said I could not, and would not, and was just going toleave, when the manager came in, and stopped me. He began by makingfoolish speeches about how beautiful I was, but when I started away, hebegged pardon, and said I was just what they wanted for a queen, who wasto come out of a flower, and did not have to dance, which would suit me, since I was so over-particular. At first I thought I never could, and itmade me so ashamed, to think of being in such a crowd, that I felt likehiding my face forever. But there I was, with no home and no money, andwhat could I do? So I signed the contract for ten nights, at fifty centsa night, and felt that I could never look you in the face again, or anyof the girls. It was not as bad as I expected, but oh, so different fromwhat I had always thought the stage was. We all had to dress in a littleroom that was as cold as ice, and most of the girls were so loud andcoarse, and talked slang, and they all took a dislike to me because Iwas queen. They called me "old prudy, " and had all kinds of coarse jokesthat made me feel as though I would die of shame; I took cold the firstnight, the stage was so windy, and our dresses as thin as wisps, andthen I was so mortified and miserable. I nearly starved while I wasthere, the pay was so small, and I couldn't afford to have any fire inmy room at the small hotel, and took such a heavy cold that I thought Iwould die coughing. Oh, how wretched I was! I wanted to die, for Ithought I had fallen so low that you would never care for me again, andI never felt that I needed God as I did then. I don't think I everprayed honestly before, but it seemed as if that terrible feeling ofbeing alone, would kill me, so I began to go to God, as I would to you, and it became such a comfort. I wanted to be good and honest, whatever Idid, so that I could feel that I still had a right to love and think ofyou all. I stayed with that company the rest of the winter, at a salaryof two dollars a week, and did all manner of odds and ends. Sometimes goon as a substitute, sometimes as a servant or some inferior character, and often to dress the leading ladies, when they found that I could doit nicely. The manager was a gruff, coarse man, but he had a kind heart, and after a while, he seemed to take a sort of interest in me, especially when my cough grew so bad. He brought me medicine twice, andone night asked me if I had been used to such a life. I told him, no, but would not answer any other questions. When the company broke up inthe spring, he found me a place as nurse-girl in a family that he knew, and said, that in the fall, a friend of his was going to organize anopera-troupe, and that he would try and get me in, for by that time, Ihad sung for him, and said that opera was what I had rather be in. 

"I found my second trial as nurse-girl, a great deal harder than thefirst; for there were three children, all sick and cross, and when hotweather came, I had a little room up under the roof to sleep in, and theheat was frightful. I had to be up nearly every night with the children, for two of them were very sick during the hottest weather, and I wascalled upon for nearly every thing. Between the heat and working sohard, I gave out, and fainted one night, while sitting up with thelittle girl, and the doctor told my mistress that if I did not have arest, I would be sick, and probably die on her hands. So in a few days, she sent me and her oldest girl out to her mother's, who lived in thecountry. I was so glad and grateful for the rest, that I never canforget her. The grandmother was a plain, good-hearted old lady, whoseemed very sorry for me, and she used to tell me every day, that Iwould never live to see another year, especially after she found that mymother had died of consumption. I didn't care how soon I died, and toldher so, and then she thought I was wicked, and began to preach longsermons to me, and give me all kinds of queer drinks and medicines, which did me much more good than the sermons, for after staying therethree weeks, I was much better, as was Nettie; so we went back to thecity, and I stayed with Mrs. Feathers until late in August. 

"One day, Mr. Fox, the old manager, came and brought Mr. Hurst, thefriend who was going to organize the troupe, and I sang for him. Heliked my voice, but said he would not engage me until I had rehearsedonce or twice with the company, so that he could see what I amounted to, and Mrs. Feathers said I might keep my place with her, until he haddecided. After one or two rehearsals, he engaged me, at four dollars aweek, and so I left Mrs. Feathers. She was so kind, gave me a new dressand two dollars, and said if I broke down in health, that her mother hadtaken a fancy to me, and would like to have me come out again and stayawhile with her. I felt so grateful that I threw my arms around her neckand cried, and she kissed me; I never shall forget how good it seemed toreally be kissed again by some one who was a mother, and whom I knew, felt sorry for me. 

"I had a very rough time in the new troupe. The manager was cross andrude, and I had to study hard to catch up with the old members; werehearsed stiff and steadily, and started out in September, visitingonly small places first, and not making much money, so that our pay wasoften behind. In a while I was promoted from chorus singing tocharacter, and I had no money to buy a wardrobe, so the manager paid mefifteen dollars that he owed me, and advanced ten--"

Here Olive gave an indignant breath, but said nothing, on secondthought; and Ernestine went on, without noticing the interruption. 

"I bought some stage clothes with part of it, and used the other toredeem my ring, that you gave me, mama, that I had been obliged to pawnfor my board; but while I was working out the ten for him, I had to pawnit again, and one of my dresses, as I hadn't a cent. We travelled south, and were in Virginia a few nights before going to Staunton, and when Iheard that we were to go there, I felt as though I never could! Ididn't know whether Jean was there yet, and I didn't expect she wouldcome to an opera if she was; but to go there, and perhaps be so nearher, when I would have been glad to have died, just for the sake ofseeing, or hearing from one of you, in some way--oh, it was so hard! Themanager grew very much provoked and impatient because I coughed so muchand was so weak, and threatened to discharge me, as I was gettinguseless; so I used to nearly strangle trying not to cough, and neverdared say I was tired again. The very evening we got to Staunton, MissDowns, one of the leading ladies, was taken quite sick, and the managertold me I would have to take her part next evening, in 'The BohemianGirl, ' so I sat up nearly all night to study, and sang all next day, until I was ready to drop. When the time came to go to the theatre, Iwas so faint I could not stand up and dress; I begged them not to tellthe manager, for I knew he would discharge me right there; but MadameT---- heard of it, and sent her maid up with a hot whiskey-toddy, and tohelp me dress, and that is the way I started out for the evening. 

"You know the rest. From the time that I felt my voice leaving me, andeverything began growing dark, I did not know anything, until I openedmy eyes, and saw Olive! Oh, I thought I was in Heaven, surely; itseemed too sweet to be true. I wonder I did not die, instead of faint, with pure joy. Even after I had looked at her long, had heard her speak, and felt her kisses, I could not believe it. I almost expected to wakeup and find that I had been dreaming between acts, on the cold, windystage, or that the manager was scolding me for falling to sleep, anddaring to dream of happiness and you. I don't think I would have livedmuch longer, and perhaps when I found that I was really going to die, Icould not have left you without a little word of some kind, for my heartused to nearly break with longing to know if you loved me yet, or wouldever want to see me again. I did not feel as though I ever had a rightto go back, but when I found that I was coming, that you wanted andloved me, oh, mama! I thought then my heart would surely break, I was sohappy!"

At this point every one was crying. Mrs. Dering had laid her face downin the pillows; the girls had, one by one, retired behind their work, and Kat, with her head wrapped in the towel she had been hemming wascrying, while she vowed vengeance alike on saint and sinner. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

MY LADY. 

"I would like to see my lady. "

It was an imperious demand, that every one in the Dering household hadbecome used to, likewise, to the speaker, a mite of humanity, withwicked big blue eyes, a pug nose, and a frowzled head of brown curls. 

She was dressed to day, in a long white fur cloak, a cap of the same, and a mite of a muff, with scarlet silk tassels, and hung to her neckwith a broad scarlet ribbon; and she had rung the bell with her own weehand, and presented her message, in that imperative way, that indicateda spoiled, but precious specimen of babydom. 

"I do hope you will forgive us, " said the smiling faced young lady, whoaccompanied her. "We don't intend to come every day, but mother madesome delicious chocolate cake yesterday, and I thought possibly MissErnestine might relish a taste of it, with some of my wine jelly; andwhen I spoke of bringing it, Pansy heard me, and insisted on coming too;so here we are. "

"How very kind you are, " said Bea, taking the dainty wicker basket, knotted with scarlet ribbons, and peeping in at its fancy glass ofmoulded jelly, the delicious cake, and a bunch of hot-house flowers. "Weshould be glad to see you every day; how could we help it, when youalways come laden like a good angel!"

"I would like--to--see--my--lady!" repeated Pansy, with impressivedignity, and some severity of manner; for what did she care about jelly, and good angels, and all that. "I haven't seen her since the other daybefore yesterday morning. "

"You shall see her right away, " laughed Bea, setting down the basket. "Excuse me a moment, Miss Clara, Kittie is busy in the kitchen. I'lltake Pansy out there, before we go up stairs. "

Kittie was pealing apples, and meditating on how she would trim her hat, since it had to be trimmed over, and nothing new to do it with; but sheput all such thoughts aside when she saw her visitor, and made a seatfor her on the bench. 

"I 'spect I'm most gladder to see you than I ever was before, " saidPansy, with a devoted smile, as she took her seat near Kittie. 

"Why, what are you sitting there for? Here I am, " said Kat, who satopposite slicing apples. "I thought you always knew me. "

Pansy looked from one to the other, for a moment, then nestled close toKittie, as she remarked with decision:

"You're not my lady; you're the other one. "

"How do you know?"

"Well, I 'spect I couldn't jes tell, but then you are. "

"I shouldn't wonder if you were right, but I want to tell you that youmustn't love Kittie so much; she's mine, and I'm jealous, " said Kat, with a foreboding shake of her head. 

"But she keeped the bear from eating me up, " cried Pansy, with unshakenbelief that she would have been forever lost except for Kittie's timelyarrival. "I jes never'd seen my papa once any more, 'f she hadn't findedme in the woods; and he said I ought to love her jes as much more asever I could, and I _do_, " accompanying the assertion with a lovingclasp of Kittie's arm, the suddenness of which sent her apple spinningacross the floor. 

"There, see; I'll get it, " she cried, running after it, with atriumphant glance at Kat. "'F I'd knocked your apple, you'd a scoldedme. "

"Oh, no; I'm an angel, " laughed Kat. "Kittie's the one that scolds. "

"Do you?" asked Pansy, leaning against Kittie, with a devotion thatnearly knocked the whole pan of apples over. 

"I never scolded you, did I?" asked Kittie. 

"No, but Auntie Raymond says I mind you the bestest of anybody. I thinkI do. I 'spect it's because I love you best, right up next to my papa;do you love me?"

"Ever so much. "

"Well, I don't know what I'll do, " said Pansy, with a long sigh, aftershe expressed a little rapture over the assurance. "My papa said theother day, what I'd do when we went back to the city 'thout you, and Isaid I was going to take you along; 'll you go?"

"How could I? Leave my mama and sisters?"

"But don't you love me 'n my papa?"

"I love you a very great deal. "

"'N not my papa?"

"I think he's a very nice gentleman, and that you ought to be a verygood little girl, and love him lots and lots. "

Pansy drew back, and slowly surveyed her idol, as though she had justdiscovered the first flaw. "I think you might love him, too, " she saidwith a grieved air, and some resentment. 

"If she loved him, she wouldn't love you so much, " said Kat, slyly. 

"Then I'm glad you don't, " exclaimed Pansy, with sudden satisfaction, and returning to her seat with an enraptured smile. 

There was no mistaking the child's devotion. She firmly believed thatKittie had saved her from being lost forever, and on the foundation ofher great gratitude, she had built an overwhelming love, that expresseditself in various ways. She never let any one of the family come to townwithout bringing flowers, and she insisted on coming in at least threetimes a week, herself; and it may be remarked, that whatever Pansy sether mind on, she did. 

Between aunts, uncles, and cousins, and a father, who was rapidly comingto the conclusion that she was the most wonderful child alive, she wasin a fair way of being spoiled, and had finally come to where she ruledthe household with the most imperious little will, which every onesubmitted to, and thought delightful. 

Twice since the picnic, she had come with her papa, in the phaeton, andtaken Kittie to ride, and three times, Mr. Murray had come in the longsummer evenings, and brought her to spend an hour or two; and thereKittie's acquaintance with him ceased. 

In the rides, he had talked to her but little, preferring to listen tothe unbroken chatter which Pansy kept up with her. And then he saw, thatto her, he appeared in a fatherly guise, which made her feel perfectlyfree and unrestrained, and he thought it best to leave it so for thepresent. 

His calls in the evenings had been entirely devoted to Mrs. Dering. Theywould sit on the porch, in proper, elderly fashion, sometimes joined byBea, while the twins and Pansy would roam about the yard, and playtogether like three children, and Mr. Murray would have nothing to sayto the one he really came to see except "Good evening, Miss Kittie, "when he came, and when he left. 

No one, except his own sister, suspected in the least that anything tookhim there save a desire to accompany Pansy, whose absorbing devotioneveryone in Canfield knew by this time. 

Mr. Murray was quick to see that in the mother's eyes, Kittie and Katwere the merest children, and that a thought of any other kind inconnection with them, would not be harbored for an instant; and he alsosaw, that never a girlish heart was freer from anything of loves orlovers, than Kittie's, and so long as it was so, he was quite content tolet it remain, and watch it grow to maturity. There was no denying thathe was strangely and powerfully interested in her, wonder and laugh atthe idea, as he would, though he could not yet think that the feelinghad assumed the name of love. It was only that respect and interest thatcomes to the heart of man when he meets a woman, lovely, fresh-hearted, and unselfishly sweet. 

The approaching dignity of sixteen lay over the girls, and while Kat wasstill a most thoroughly romping tom-boy, Kittie was wonderfully womanly, with pretty, graceful, lady-like ways, the sweetest possible voice, andthe loveliest eyes that ever looked, with girlish innocence, into theface of the man who felt that love her he could, and love her he would, in spite of himself. 

There was something irresistibly attractive and sweet to Paul Murray, inwatching the love between his little daughter and the young girl. Kittie's slightest word was law to Pansy; and there was something sowomanly in the way she exercised her influence, and made the child'slove a source of benefit unto her spoiled, wayward little self. 

When fall drifted into the chilly reign of winter, Mr. Murray went backto the city. He had intended going long before, but had put it off, aweek at a time, until winter had finally come; then he decided with asudden determination, and, as if to test his firmness of purpose, hadslipped away from Pansy, and galloped into town, trusting to thedarkness to hide from Canfield's prying eyes, that he was coming to theDering's alone. Not that he cared; oh, no, he would just as soon haveheralded to every soul therein that it was so, but for Kittie's sake, it was best to give no one's tongue a chance to wag. Many a bud isrudely hastened into blossom by impatient fingers, and withers from theshock; it must not be so now. 

He fastened his horse at the gate, and went slowly up the walk, wondering a little if they would be surprised. A bright light came fromErnestine's window, and out from down stairs, falling across the porchfloor; and before ringing the bell, he paused a moment, and looked in. How bright and homelike everything looked, and there, before the grate, stood the very object of his visit, making the prettiest pictureimaginable, with a big kitchen apron on, her sleeves rolled up, andreading a letter. He knew it was Kittie, in a moment, for in her hairwas a knot of scarlet ribbon, and the foot resting on the fender wore abow, of the same color, astride its slippered toe--little niceties thatKat, was seldom, if ever, guilty of. 

Beatrice answered his ring, and tried to look as though she had notexpected some one else, some one who would have given her a more cordialgreeting, than "Good evening, Miss Dering. "

"Good evening, Mr. Murray; walk in, please, and I will call mama, " saidBea, ushering him into the sitting-room, with some little wonder, andgoing up stairs. 

Kittie had vanished with her letter; but as Mr. Murray sat down, he sawthe envelope on the table, and immediately experienced the mostpeculiar and unpleasant sensation, on observing the masculine scrawlsthereon. What gentleman was writing to her? he wondered, with quickresentment; and the next moment Kittie came in, and found him studyingthat envelope closely. She had thrown off her apron, and let down hersleeves, and he thought she looked prettier the other way, though hefound that either way she was suddenly invested with a strongerattraction than ever; for a little competition will always make us moreeager, and the star of our desire much brighter. He explained, with alaugh, as they sat down, that he had just been admiring the free, easychirography on the envelope; which same was a fib of first degree, butthen--

"It is Cousin Ralph's; I think it beautiful, " said Kittie, unconsciouslyobliging, but giving no relief, for Mr. Murray's mind went back to theday he met "Cousin Ralph, " handsome, manly fellow, and he rememberedthat it was only second cousin, and that Ralph had been very attentiveto Kittie at the picnic, and that--oh, what didn't he think, all in afew minutes; and how true it is that

 "Trifles light as air, are to the jealous, Confirmations strong as proofs of holy writ. "

The rebound from a feeling of perfect security to one of miserabledoubt, at finding the field already taken, nearly drove Mr. Murray intoa precipitancy that he might have regretted forever. As it was, heanswered Kittie's inquiries for Pansy, in a pre-occupied way, that wassurprising, and seemed too much pleased with that envelope to ever layit down; and yet, with all his looking, he failed to discover that thename, in a maze of flourishes, was Miss Kathleen Dering, instead of MissKatherine. Just so do we make up our minds to see things in a certainlight, and see them so, in spite of fate. 

How pleasant it was, sitting there in the warm firelight, with Kittieopposite, in the low rocking chair, and no one else near. It seemed sohomelike and sweet to this man who had no fireside of his own, and onlya memory of one short, happy year, when another girlish face and heart, not unlike Kittie's, had been all his own. He wished now, that no oneelse would come in to spoil this cozy chat; but they did, in just amoment--Mrs. Dering and Bea; and Kittie resigned the low rocker, for acorner over on the lounge, to his great regret. 

They all heard with polite and honest expressions of regret, that he wasgoing to leave for the city on the next day; but after hearing that hewas going to leave Pansy behind, Kittie was quite satisfied. 

"I have no home, you know, " he said, looking at Mrs. Dering, with anexpression that caused her kindly heart to pity him. "I shall board, and be hard at work 'till late every night, and poor little Pansy wouldhave a dreary life with a hired nurse. Besides, the influencessurrounding her would not be such as I would like. So Sister Julia haskindly promised to keep her until I can make some arrangements, andbecome a little settled. "

He staid for some time; promised to call in and see Olive, who had goneto her studies at last; and then he rose to leave. If he held Kittie'shand a little longer than any of the others, no one noticed it; and if, in that good-bye, his eyes went to her face less guarded in theirexpression than usual, no one noticed that either, because no onedreamed of such a thing. 

"May I have Pansy with me as often as I want her?" asked Kittie, justbefore he left. 

"Certainly; I shall always be pleased to hear that you still love thechild, and that she is sometimes with you, " he answered, lingering, asif loth to go. But at that instant a step was heard on the porch, and acertain expression in Bea's face warned him that the sitting-room wouldnow be in demand; whereupon he gave a hasty good-bye, and left; notwithout a little envy for Dr. Barnett, who entered at the same moment, and who came, in the full assurance of recognized right, such as was notyet Paul Murray's. 

Of course, the family discreetly retired, after a few words of greetingto the young man, and while the cozy sitting-room took unto itself these

 "Two souls with but a single thought, "

the others went up to Ernestine's room to finish the evening. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

TO REAR, TO LOVE, AND THEN TO LOSE. 

Spring came, and with it much that was of absorbing interest, of untoldimportance, and yet so sad. In May, Bea would leave the home ofchildhood and girlhood, and would be mistress of one of the prettiestlittle cottages in Canfield. She was blithely happy, and sang and sewedfrom morning until night, in a blissful content, that made mother andsisters smile and sigh at once; and wonder how home would seem with Beagone. Such marvels of pretty things as had been made, and such a littlegem of a bower, as the new home was, and how happy and gay everythingwas, to be sure. Every Saturday night, when Olive came home from thecity, her first trip was to the little cottage, to see the latestimprovements; for there were several, in the way of a verandah, a frail, spidery looking summer-house, with a sick looking vine started over onecorner, a new front fence, and a hitching post. Each and every one wasof greatest importance and everybody in Canfield was as interested, asthough they were one great family, just marrying off their firstdaughter. Bea visited her future dominion every day, as did the twins;but Ernestine was not to go, until everything was ready for the newoccupants, and then she was to pass her opinion on the whole, andsuggest any changes that might strike her graceful fancy. 

"It must have a name, " said Bea, coming in one day, just a week beforethe wedding. "When Meg got married in 'Little Women, ' she went tohousekeeping in a little cottage, and they called it Dovecot. What shallI call mine?"

"Call it a house and let it go; better not begin with fancy names andall that, it won't last, " advised Kat, rigidly practical. 

"Yes, it will--always, " asserted Bea, with the fond delusive belief, experienced by every women when in love, that life will be one endlesscourtship and honey-moon. 

"I think a name is a pretty idea, " said Kittie, recalling all the Romantitles she had ever heard of. "Call it--let's see, call it Fern-nook. "

"Yes, I would, " laughed Kat "It's so appropriate. There's not a fernwithin a mile, and not the ghost of a nook anywhere. "

"Well, I thought Bird's-nest a real pretty name, " said Bea, swinging herhat by its ribbon, and looking thoughtful. "But, somehow, I wantsomething else. "

"What kind of flowers are you going to have?" asked Kittie, with a viewto selecting something appropriate this time. 

"Geraniums in the big bed in front, with a border of some kind, then Iwill have vines all over the porch, and a lily in the little urn, and aheart-shaped bed of pansies under that shady side-window. None of thosedo for a name, though. "

Kittie confessed that they did not, but said in a moment:

"We'll go up and ask Ernestine, if she can't think of something no oneelse can. " To which they all agreed, and hurried up stairs forthwith. 

Ernestine was sitting up in the big rocker, in a lovely white wrapper, and a little fancy scarlet sacque. She looked very frail and weak, though very lovely, and much interested when the important question wasput to her. The girls had perfect faith in her selection, and waitedpatiently, as her eyes went from the budding trees outside, to thegleams of sunshine playing across the carpet, then to the bunch ofpurple pansies in the vase on the table. 

"Call it Hearts-ease, " she said. 

"I told you, " cried Kittie. "That's just the name. "

"Hearts-ease it is, to the end of the chapter;" exclaimed Kat with aflourish as of benediction. 

"Yes, that is lovely--and there comes Walter, I'll go right down andtell him, " said Bea, and flitted gayly away. 

"A penny for your thoughts, Ernestine, " said Kat, watching her eyes goout to the sunshine again with a dreamy smile. 

"I was thinking how happy everything was, " answered Ernestine slowly. "It's all so lovely. Olive is doing so splendidly in her painting. Beais so happy. Jean is coming home, and--I am here. I can hardly believeit even now, and I so often wonder if I'm happy enough. "

"This will be a gay old household, " said Kat briskly, warmed into gayetyby the sad tone of the invalid's voice. "Uncle Ridley will make Bea ahandsome present I expect. "

"How strange and delightful it will be to have Jeanie home, bless herprecious little heart, " cried Kittie with loving eagerness. "I canhardly wait, and mama seems almost too happy to live. "

"Jean has not changed much, " said Ernestine. "She is taller and sweeterlooking, but just the same dear, quiet little thing. She walks with acane now, and is perfectly straight. How glad I shall be to see her, Iwish she was coming to-day!"

She came the next, as if in answer to their eagerness and longing, andthis is the way it happened. 

Mrs. Dering was in the hall, when she saw a carriage stop at the gate, and though Mr. Congreve and Jean were expected in two or three days, itnever occurred to her, that they might come before; so while she tookoff her apron, and brushed a little flour--having been in thekitchen--from her dress, the arrivals had left the carriage, and werecoming in at the gate. She got as far as the door, then paused, andcaught her breath as if in a spasm of sudden joy. 

Coming up the walk with swiftly flying feet, outstretched arms, andglowing face wildly eager, was a light girlish figure in a prettytravelling suit, and the mother, feeling her strength forsaking herknelt down on the porch and opened her arms, her lips dumb, her eyesblinded with great joyful tears. 

Could it be? Oh, had God been so good? Was the flying figure, withstrong perfect limbs and bright eager face, her crippled, crooked littleJean? It seemed a dream too blissful to be true but the next moment, their arms were clasped, and Jean's tears and kisses fell like rain, onher mother's face and hair. 

"Oh mama; precious darling mama! are you glad? are you happy that I'mwell? Speak to me, mama; what are you crying for?"

"I'm so happy, darling. Oh, my little Jean, I'm so glad and grateful, "cried Mrs. Dering, with a great sob, as she folded the little girlcloser, and kissed her again and again. "I knew you would come back tome better, I did not dream you would come well. Why did you not tell me, darling?"

"I wanted to surprise you, " began Jean; but just then Kat came into thehall, beheld the astonishing spectacle, and with one shrill utterance ofJean's name, that summoned the whole family, she had rushed to theporch, and taken the little girl in a great hug. 

Well, what a hub-bub there did follow! How everybody hugged and kissedeverybody, in the abandonment of joy; how Uncle Ridley was deluged withcaresses, and suddenly found himself holding Mrs. Dering in his arms, and patting her wildly on the back, while she cried on his shoulder. Anddidn't Ernestine creep slowly down stairs, and appear like a frailspirit in their midst, and wasn't she whisked on to the lounge in ahurry, and kissed heartily by every one in the excitement. 

"God bless my soul! How happy we all are!" cried Mr. Congreve, with afinal gasp of joy, and sitting down with an exhausted smile. "I neverexpected to be in such a good humor again as long as I lived--no Inever did. I'm fairly swelled up with happiness, and I've bust a buttonright off my vest. "

Everybody laughed heartily. Gay words and blithe laughs hung on everyone's lips; everything was sunshine, and every one was happy. What ahousehold idol was Jean in the days that followed! How mother andsisters clung to her, watched her walk--oh, joy of all joys--so straightand free; and how many, many times did Mrs. Dering go to Mr. Congreve, and put her arms about his neck, like a child, to thank him, again andagain, as the agent whom God had sent to be the means of answering hermost fervent prayers!

Well, to be sure, as Kat had said, it was a lively household now. 

The day before the wedding, the girls all went over to the new house--to"Hearts-ease. " Mr. Phillips sent the buggy over so that Ernestine couldgo, and she and Bea drove over, while the rest walked. It was a prettylittle place, indeed, as they came in sight of it, nestled under a bigtree, that was just budding into pale green in the spring sunshine. Everything was ready for the young bride to take possession on the nextday, even to the mat laid before the front door on the new porch, andthe bright tin cup hanging to the freshly painted pump in the littleback yard. 

Bea unlocked the door, with an air of proud importance, and they wentin, all anxious to show Ernestine and Jean every corner, as it was theirfirst visit. The little mite of a square hall, and the smallsitting-room on one side, were covered with brown and white matting, with soft, woolly rugs of brown and white. Curtains of soft, shady brownwere at the windows, and the walls were papered in clear creamy white, with a deep border of brown dashed in gold. The chairs were all willow, also a pretty, standing work-basket, already filled with some of Bea'slight work; and there, on the table, lay some of the young doctor'sbooks and papers. The tiny dining room next, with its round table andnew chairs, its little closet, with the shelves covered with snowypaper, and well stocked with dishes, all plain and cheap, but of prettyshapes and serviceable strength. Then the kitchen, shining with new tin, and a brisk little stove, and the rack hung with neatly-hemmeddish-cloths; the brand new cake of soap on the table, and the orderlyline of pots and kettles--oh, it was all a sight to tickle your eyes. 

Up stairs, the ceilings were low, and a very tall person would havebumped his head unmercifully, but then, it all looked lovely. The prettybedroom was all in blue, and nearly everything in it was the work ofBea's hands. She had made all the pretty mats on stands and bureaus, also the carpet ones on the floor. The daintily ruffled Swiss curtains, knotted with blue bows, she had made, washed, fluted and put up. Allthe fancy, pretty work about the bed was hers; and the bunches offorget-me-nots that adorned the chamber-set, looked as though they hadsprung into real life on the snowy surface, instead of having been stuckand artistically plastered on. Oh, it was all lovely, and beyondimprovement, every one said, and Bea laughed and looked so proud andhappy. 

"This is to be my spare room, " she said, throwing open the door to theback room. "The view from this window is just as pretty as the front, because it looks off to the hills; and just as soon as we are able, wewill furnish it, and I shall fix it just like my room, only in palepink. Won't it be lovely?"

"Ecstatic!" cried Kat. "Who is it to be for?"

"All of you. I expect you and Kittie will have it first, when mama andJean and Ernestine go to visit Uncle Ridley next year. There are lots ofthings we can't afford yet, " Bea continued, as they went down stairs. "Ihaven't anything to put in the hall, and it looks a little bare, but Idon't mind it much. Then the parlor hasn't a thing in it except thecarpet and curtains; but I can wait easy enough. I don't want Walter tothink I'm at all dissatisfied or want to be extravagant, because I thinkeverything is just lovely, and I'm so happy. "

"Uncle Ridley said when he started for the city this morning, that itwas because he was in a hurry to see Olive, and to bring her hometo-night; but I just know he's going to bring you something beautiful!"exclaimed Jean, who had flitted everywhere, like a butterfly, and lookedradiant with happiness. 

"Of course he'll get something, " said Kittie, polishing the slim, shining bannister with her handkerchief. "Let's hurry home; the trainhas just come in since we left, and I know Ralph has sent something; hesaid he was going to send his representative. "

"I don't see anything that can be changed, " said Ernestine slowly, asthey took a final peep into the sitting-room, "unless you put thatbracket with the figure under the picture over the mantel, and leavethat space between the windows for the head that Olive is going to paintfor you. "

"Yes, I'll do that. And now come; you look so tired, dear. Kittie, unhitch Prince for me, will you, while I lock up?"

"Oh, Bea, dear! I hope you will always be so happy, " exclaimedErnestine, with a wistful sadness in her voice, as they drove slowlyhome; and she laid her head on Bea's shoulder with a tired sigh. "It allseems so lovely, and I am so glad, though I shall miss you so after youare gone. "

"But I'm not gone, " said Bea, much touched, as she slipped her armaround the frail form with a loving pressure. "I'll be over home everyday, and you will come and stay with me, and everything will be just asit is now, except that Walter will be your brother, and you know heloves you like one now. "

"Yes, he is a dear fellow, and he will make you happy, I know. But Iwill not have you always, as I have since I came home--there, the girlshave beaten us home, and Kat is waving her hat over the gate, so Isuppose the box has come from Ralph. "

Bea drove faster, in pleased anticipation, and as soon as they drewnear, Kat cried excitedly:

"Hurry up! It's come! pretty near as big as the woodshed, and awfulheavy! Kittie and Jean are getting the nails out. Don't stop to hitch. Prince is too glad to be here to go off of his own accord. Here, Ernestine, let me carry you, " and, as she spoke, she caught the frail, light form in her strong young arms, and walked off to the house withperfect ease, while Bea tied Prince, and followed in a flutter. Sureenough, an immense box stood on the back porch, with the whole familyaround it, waiting for the owner to unpack, and Bea went down on herknees beside it, and began to throw out straw with an excited laugh. 

"Oh, my patience! dishes!" cried Kittie, as the first bundles began toappear, and immediately arose the most extravagant cries of delight andapproval, as one by one, Bea took out, and unwrapped the daintiestmorsels of china, exquisitely painted in grasses, butterflies andflowers. Oh, how lovely they were; the frail, tiny things, looking morelike fairy waiters than anything intended for mortal use. Then came adozen tea-spoons, table-spoons, knives and forks, all engraved; a lovelycard basket, swung by a silver chain, from the finger of a wingedMercury; two beautiful napkin rings, marked "Walter" and "Beatrice;" adozen of the finest damask napkins, with a gorgeous "B. " in the corner;and lastly, a fancy dust-pan and brush, an indescribable sweeping cap, six of the most perfect kitchen aprons, a patent stove-hook, and an oldshoe, with "Good Luck, " painted in red letters on the sole. 

"Oh, I declare, I never did!" cried Bea, sitting down on the floor, tolaugh and cry at the same time. "Isn't it all too lovely!"

"What does the card say?" asked Jean, as the others began to carry inthe china and things. "Just

 "'BEATRICE, FROM AUNT TREMAYNE AND RALPH, '"

answered Bea, looking at the card, that had been tied with a whiteribbon to the nose of the tea-pot. "How good they are! I'm too happy tolive. "

So it seemed, as she helped take in the things, laughing and crying, andtouching them with careful, caressing fingers. They made a most imposingshow when arranged on the table, and during the day more modestpresents, that came in from well wishing friends, were added to thecollection. There came a fancy clock from Mr. Dane, three dozen handsometowels and four beautiful table spreads from Mrs. Dane; and a variety oflittle things from the young people, with whom Bea was a favorite. 

As soon as Mr. Congreve and Olive arrived, on the evening train, theywere taken in to view "the show, " but the old gentleman added nothing toit, to every one's surprise; though he seemed pleased with everythingthere, and said it was a plenty for one bride. 

After supper, Olive disappeared and was gone some little time, butwhere, no one knew, and finally Mr. Congreve jumped up, with the remark, that he had heard her say something about Mrs. Dane's, and as he knewwhere it was, he guessed he'd walk over after her. 

"Never mind, Uncle Ridley, if she is there, Mr. Dane will walk home withher, and you must be tired, " said Mrs. Dering. 

"God bless my soul, Elizabeth! I'm not an old man, " exclaimed the crustyold gentleman of seventy odd years, as he threw open the door, andstrode briskly out into the May moonlight. "I think a great deal of yourOlive; she's a thorough Congreve, and I'd rather lose my besthandkerchief than have anything happen to her--I had indeed. So go in, my dear, go in, " and Mrs. Dering obediently went in, as he trampedbriskly down the walk. 

That last evening of Bea's in the old home came very near being a sadone, in spite of every one's attempt to the contrary. Ernestine stayeddown stairs for the first evening since her illness, and the excitementbrought a stain of color into her white cheeks that made her look morelike her old self, as she lay on the lounge. 

Bea sat on the stool at her mother's feet, and Mrs. Dering softlycaressed the plump, white hand, that to-morrow she would give away, andnow and then a pause would come, when the mother's eyes would fill withtears, and her lips tremble, and then some one would rush in, to breakthe silence, and thrust irrelevant nonsense into the groove cut forApril tears. 

Wherever Mr. Congreve and Olive came from, they had a serious talk onthe way home. Something evidently disturbed the old gentleman's mind, and he fidgetted nervously, until he had relieved himself with theexplosive remark:

"So you sent Roger home, did you?"

"No, sir, he went, " answered Olive, with a smile but with somesurprise. 

"Humph! He did, and what did you say, to make him come home, lookinglike a criminal expecting to be hung?"

"I said I couldn't love him, and I can't and don't, " answered Olive, feeling provoked to think that Roger couldn't keep his own counsel. 

"Tut, tut! what did you say that, for?"

"Because it's the truth; I like him very much indeed, but I don't wantany lovers, I'm too young, and something else to think about, " exclaimedOlive with unmistakable aversion to the thought. 

"Heighty-tighty! your mother was married at eighteen, " cried the oldgentleman briskly. 

"I can't help it, sir. I never want, or expect to marry. My work is allI want. "

"Yes, but your work will fail you some time, child; a one-sided love ona single altar soon burns itself out for want of fuel. There must be

 "'The happiness thrown on from kindred flames to sustain A spark of devotion for a lifeless love. '

"The time will come when you may be alone in the world, and I'm muchmistaken if your art alone will satisfy the cravings of your woman'sheart. "

Olive listened in some amaze to such a lengthy speech from the usuallyshort spoken gentleman; and though she felt no less certain of lifelongsatisfaction with her art, she asked meekly. 

"What would you have me do, Uncle Ridley? I don't love him. "

"But are you sure you don't, my child? I knew he loved you all along, and it made my old heart glad; but I never knew how very dear you wereto him, until he came back from here, and told me what you had said. Youthink marriage would interfere with your work, but it will not; why, Roger is as proud and anxious for your success as ever you could be foryourself. He told me that if you would only let him share your work andefforts, that he would take you abroad, that you should see the finestpaintings the world holds, and that you should study with the finestmasters. You--" but here he paused, for Olive gave a gasp, and turnedwhite as a ghost in the moonlight. _Abroad, masters!_ The words struckher like a flash of lightning, and made her tremble with a great rush ofdelicious longing. She clung to the old gentleman's arm for a moment, and wondered if she was dreaming; but his next words brought her back;though she heard them but dimly. 

"Here is a letter for you; he wanted me to bring it, and Olive, don'tmake up your mind too quickly. Both you and Roger are very dear to me, and I would like to see you both happy before I die--as I suppose I mustbefore many years, and--and--confound it! where's my snuff?--I hope youwill send a different word back to him. "

Olive took the letter and put it in her pocket, still in that dazedwonder, and when they reached home, she longed to go off up stairs, andthink it over alone, but it would be unkind on Bea's last evening; soshe followed Mr. Congreve into the sitting-room, where a chorus ofquestions met them. 

"God bless my soul, what curiosity!" cried the old gentleman, crustily. "She went down town and I went after her, let that do. "

So no one asked another question, except Jean, who got on to his lapwith the freedom of one who knew that nothing she did would receivereproof; and she whispered something in his ear, that made him smilegood-naturedly, and immediately take an immense pinch of snuff. 

That night, as on the one so long ago, when Mr. Congreve made his firstvisit to them, two persons found it hard to sleep, even after silenceand slumber had long held the others. 

To-night, as on that other, Mrs. Dering sat alone in her room, only nowshe sat by the window, instead of the dying fire. Now, as then, Jeanslept soundly, only now her childish face wore the rosy flush of healthinstead of feebleness and pallor, and the little form was straight andperfect, instead of crooked and crippled. 

Who, but a mother, can appreciate a mother's thoughts, when she standson the threshold of the first separation; the first giving up of her owninto another's love and keeping "for better, for worse, until deathshould them part. " The pale young moon climbed slowly up above thetree-top, and just as its slanting rays reached the window-sill, andfell in across the floor, the door opened carefully, and Olive's voicespoke:

"Mama? You are up?"

"Yes, dear; are you sick? What is the matter?"

"Nothing. I only want to tell you something;" and Olive pushed the stoolup as she spoke, and sat down. 

"I meant to tell you before, but somehow I never did. Will you listennow?"

"Certainly, dear;" for well enough she knew that something weighed onOlive's mind to bring her there at that time. So Olive told her story, without a blush or hesitancy, from the beginning down to the receipt ofthe letter; and as Mrs. Dering watched her face in the pale light, soclearly expressing its dislike to any lover, and its rapt devotion toher art, she knew well enough what the decision would be. 

"And I'm going to say no, " finished Olive, at last. "Have I done right, mama?"

"Perfectly, Olive. I am surprised, and yet not wholly so, for somethingof the kind occurred to me when he was here. Never marry where you donot love, dear. No possible advantage, influence, or station, that canbe gained by a loveless marriage, will ever be sufficient recompense forthe galling misery of two hearts, grinding their life out, for want ofsympathy and mutual love to oil the way. I admire and think a great dealof Roger Congreve, and you have won the love of a good man, dear, whichif true, will bide its time patiently, and when you are older it mayseem different to you. "

Olive looked up in mute amazement. Even mother said that to her. 

"No, " she said obstinately, in a moment. "I don't think it will be so. Iknow it will not. I'm sorry that he loves me, because it will alwayskeep us from being friends. Mama, surely you would not have me do such athing as get married, and drop my work, as I would have to do, more orless, with so many new duties?"

"No, dear, no; I am only too glad that your heart is still free, for youare too young to think of marriage. I would not consent to it. Besidesyou are quite right; with the duties and responsibilities of a wife, youcould not devote your whole time and love to your art, and I should feelvery sorry to think that anything is going to interfere with perfectingthe talent which God has given you. But sooner or later, Olive, therecomes to every woman, who stands alone, a yearning for love and home; adesire to feel that there is some one whom she can claim as her own, andto whom she is dearer than aught else. Love your art, dear, workfaithfully in it, and if it should always satisfy your heart, I will bequite content, for then you will always be my own. If the other feelingever comes, God will take care of it. Now go, dear; don't let this keepyou awake longer, for we want all fresh faces to-morrow. Good night. "

The clock struck one, as they gave a kiss in the moonlight, then Olivewent slowly away; not a whit less certain, that every one was wrong, andshe was right; no number of years could make any difference to her. 

Everything joined in making the next day the brightest, and loveliestthat had ever dawned. Never did a May morning sun come up with a purerglitter of gold; never had the birds sang so sweetly; and never before, as any one remembered, had the rose-vines over the porch, blossomedbefore June, and yet this morning, there were three snowy half-blownbuds peeping in at the window of Ernestine's room, and she picked themto put in the bride's brown hair. 

Pansy Murray came over early in the morning, and brought a beautifulbouquet to each of the sisters, excepting Bea, to whom she said withmysterious smiles: "I couldn't bring your bouquet, but our green-houseman's going to come with it;" and then finding that Kittie was too busyto pay much attention to her, she devoted herself to Jean, whom she hadseen once before, and fallen quite in love with. 

Bea had had some little longings for a stylish wedding, but it had beenimpossible, besides, she had found that Walter preferred a quiet homeone; so this morning, when the girls helped to dress her, and she put onher pretty brown suit, with the white rose-buds in her brown hair, shewas perfectly content, and would not have had it otherwise. 

"You look lovely, " cried Kittie, with a rapturous sigh, when the lastthing had been done, and they all drew back to inspect. 

"That dress is a beauty, and you look like a daisy. "

"What do you think?" cried Kat, rushing in just then. "Raymond'sgardener has brought your bouquet, and what do you think it is?"

"What?" cried the girls eagerly. 

"A beautiful wedding-bell, all of white flowers; and he's hanging it inthe folding doors;" upon which announcement, every one ran down stairs, to view the new beauty, and the bride jerked the flowery clapper by itswhite ribbon; then departed in haste, and with a sudden shyness, as Dr. Barnett and the minister, were seen coming slowly up the walk. 

No one cried when the supreme moment came, though Kittie was heard tosniff suspiciously, and Kat stared straight at a certain spot in theceiling, until she was pretty near sightless; while Ernestine's eyesrested on the young wife's face, with a loving wistful sadness, that waspathetic, and made Mr. Congreve whisk his handkerchief briskly about hiseyes. Mrs. Dering stood with her arm about Jean, Olive was next with herarm in Mr. Congreve's, and so they listened, and watched the littleceremony that gave Bea to another, and left the first vacancy in thehome nest. As soon as it was over, and the rush of congratulations andkisses were given, Dr. Barnett took Bea's hand and with a lowly bow, said to them all:

"Mother and sisters, relatives and friends, my wife and I will bepleased to have you come with us to our new home, and help eat ourwedding breakfast. "

Everybody buzzed with surprise, and looked for explanation to every oneelse; but no one seemed to know more than another, even Bea, blushinglike a rose, as she put on her new hat, looked as surprised as anybody. So there was nothing to be done but wait for some revelation. 

The walk from the old home to the new, was very short, and as the gayparty took it in the warm sunshine, every one on the way called, orsmiled their congratulations to the pretty bride who walked with UncleRidley, while the young husband followed with his new-made mother. Whenthey came in sight of the little cottage, there was smoke coming gaylyfrom the kitchen chimney, and the front door stood widely open. 

"What is it?" whispered Kittie, in a spasm of curiosity. 

"A breakfast already for them, " answered Olive. "Dr. Barnett has gotHuldah, and Bea doesn't know it. "

Well, dear me, what a jolly confusion did follow. Bea was too muchovercome to welcome any one to her new home, and nearly gave way totears when Huldah was seen bowing ecstatically in the back-ground, andsaying over and over: "Welcome home, Mrs. Barnett, how-dy-do?"

"This is where Uncle Ridley and Olive were last night, " cried Jeanexcitedly, throwing open the parlor door, and pushing Mrs. Barnett in. "Just look!"

Bea tried to speak, but couldn't, and threw her arms about Mr. Congreve's neck, while everybody else "oh'd" and "ah'd" about the parlordoor. For wasn't it furnished with three of the most beautiful easychairs, a tiny lounge, two spidery-legged tables, with gildedchains--and--oh!--a piano! A shiny, beautiful upright piano, with a bluevelvet stool. 

"I didn't do it all, Olive did half, " cried Mr. Congreve the firstchance he had of making himself heard above the babel of admiration andgratitude; whereupon Olive put in a hasty denial. She hadn't done athing but come over and arrange. Everything was from Uncle Ridley exceptthe silver vase and bracket, between the windows. 

"Well, you've seen it now, that'll do. I was invited here to breakfast, and I'd like to have it, " cried the old gentleman, in a testy voice, which the good-natured gleam in his sharp eyes denied. So everybodypranced into the dining-room, and Bea was placed behind the coffee-urn, and couldn't do a thing but blush, and look too happy and overcome toattend to her duties. 

Perfect silence fell, as the young husband lifted his hand, and in avoice that trembled slightly, asked the minister to request a blessingon this, the first meal in the new home. But when that was done, everybody broke into a babel of fun again, and a merrier meal was neverwitnessed anywhere. 

"I shall come over and call on you this afternoon, Mrs. Barnett, " wasKat's good-bye, when good-bye moment came. 

"Everything is lovely; may you live long, and always be thus gay, " saidKittie, who began to feel a queer sensation in her throat, and wanted toget off in a hurry. 

"I don't know what to say, except that I want you to be so happy, Beadear, " Ernestine said, giving a good-bye kiss lingeringly. 

"Well, I think weddings are splendid, though I wish you wasn't going tohave a new home, Bea, " remarked Jean with regret, as she tied on herhat, and shook hands with her new brother. 

"I shall miss you dreadfully, and our room will seem so lonely, " wasOlive's next remark. "But you must not let us be apart much. "

"I will not, " said Bea with full heart and eyes. "I will never love youany less, and we will all be just the same, except that you'll have abrother, and you know you've always wanted one. "

"I hope you'll be happy, dear child, I do indeed, " said Mr. Congreve, with an exhaustive hand shake. "But married life is full of swampyplaces, and you must both be careful. I've only one piece of advice, andthat is, whatever you do, don't let your confidence and trust in eachother get a shake, for it is the tree of married life, and one shakewill knock off more apples of love and happiness than can ever bereplaced. "

"God bless you both, " said Mrs. Dering, with one hand in that of herdaughter, the other in that of her new son. "I give her to you freely, Walter, with perfect faith in your love and loyalty, and a dear daughteris the most precious gift a mother ever yielded up. Be worthy of eachother's perfect love and trust, and once more, God bless you. Good-bye. "

 To hear, to heed, to wed, Fair lot that maidens choose; Thy mother's tenderest words are said, Thy face no more she views. Thy mother's lot, my dear, She doth in nought accuse; Her lot to bear, to nurse, to rear, To love--and then to lose. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

WHEN GOD DREW NEAR AMONG HIS OWN TO CHOOSE. 

"And is that the word you are going to send back, Olive?"

"Yes, sir. "

"And Roger must go abroad, alone?"

"I suppose so, if he goes at all. "

Mr. Congreve sighed, and Olive began to tap her foot impatiently on thegrass. 

"Uncle Ridley, I couldn't; I should hate him; I should hate myself andmy art, too, if I felt that I owed all its success to some one else. Hewould be miserably unhappy, and so would I. Even if I loved him as hewants me to, I couldn't accept everything from him. "

"Too proud, Olive, too proud; but then I suppose you are right; indeed, I shouldn't wonder if you were, " muttered the old gentleman, walkingslowly back and forth with his eyes down. "But I hate to take this wordback to the boy, I do indeed. "

"Well, I'm sure, he's a man, and I really think by this time, that he isquite reconciled to it. At any rate, he'll get over it before long, "said Olive complacently. 

"God bless my soul!" cried Mr. Congreve, pausing before her, with apuzzled wonder in his shrewd eyes. "Do you honestly so little realizewhat Roger's nature is, or how much the boy loves you, and how he iswaiting to hear what word I bring!"

"He ought to know by this time that it is the same I gave to him. I toldyou, no, the day after you gave me the letter; surely, you told him sowhen you wrote. "

"But I didn't, though. I thought, like as not, with the prospect oftravel, you might change your mind after you'd thought about it more, and I told him that I was giving you time. "

"You must think I am very weak and uncertain, " said Olive with someimpatience. "If he really is anxious for an answer, it is unkind to keephim waiting. "

"Well, well, that's so, I know, but I must confess that I thought themasters and travel would bring you 'round, " and Mr. Congreve shook hishead, as if in dire perplexity. 

"I had rather work day and night, and win my own success, be it ever solittle, than to owe the widest fame to another. Besides, I don't want tobe married, I wouldn't be for anything; I want to belong to myself, anddo as I please!" cried Olive, vehemently; then slipped her arm throughhis, with a little coaxing gesture, such as she sometime used with thecrusty old man, and said:

"There, Uncle Ridley, it is all settled, so let's not speak of it anymore. There come Walter and Bea; we'll walk down to the gate and meetthem. "

This was all a month after the wedding, and it was the loveliest JuneSunday, imaginable. Mr. Congreve had dreaded so to go back to Virginiawithout Jean, that he had yielded to their entreaties, and spent thatlength of time with them; but now he was going on the next day; and theold gentleman's feelings were so deeply stirred with the thought that hewas obliged to resort to his crusty manners to hide them. He had mostfervently hoped that Olive would change her mind, though possessed withan inward conviction that she would not; yet even while he so deeplyregretted her decision, he could not but admire the independence, thatrefused to sit with idle hands, and receive every advantage andadvancement from another. Surely, if Olive ever did marry, she wouldbring something to her husband besides her dependent self, and he mightknow, above all doubts, that indeed, he was truly loved in her heart ofhearts. 

Every member of the family had grown to dearly love the crusty, abrupt, peculiar old man, who wore the goodness of his heart like a mantle abouthim, yet so modest with it. They never knew, until after he had leftthem, how much good he had quietly done in his morning walks aboutCanfield. How he had bought poor little lame Katie Gregg a great waxdoll, that could speak and cry; filled the pantry of the hard-workingwidow mother with packages unnumbered, pretending to be so innocent ofthe deed, when she found who was the giver, and tried to thank him. There came to them, for many days after he had gone, reports, here andthere, of the little deeds of kindness and acts of thoughtfulgenerosity, the need of which, he had discovered at odd times and saidnothing about, with the modesty which is characteristic of the truegiver. 

The parting was a truly sad one, yet not without its funny side, for theold gentleman was so torn up in mind that his actions were irresistiblyfunny. He whisked his red handkerchief about with such energy that itsedges were pretty near in strips; and he blew his poor old nose in suchrepeated and violent fashions, that it clearly resembled a highlycolored tomato. 

"There won't be any little girl any where, " he said, mournfully. "Itwill be so lonesome in the morning, and in the evening, and all in theday, and I will wonder if Jeanie is never coming down stairs to sit inmy lap in the old library. I shall get cross, and ugly as a bear, forwant of two little hands to smooth the wrinkles out of my old forehead, and a dear little girl to keep my heart in good working order. It willall be dreadful! dreadful!"

There was something pathetic in the picture they made, sitting there. The old man, with his white head and tear dimmed eyes, holding Jean inhis lap, with her arms about his neck, and his wrinkled cheek rested onher curly hair. 

"I haven't very much longer to live, " he went on, in that pathetic way, "and I shall have to crawl through the last little while all by myself. I suppose the dear good Lord knows best, but I don't see why He gave metwo little girls to love, and then took them both away. Even Olive won'tgo back with me, and Roger will go off, and it will be dreadful!dreadful!"

So far down had the poor man's spirits gone, that he seemed perfectlylost in pathetic resignation. Even the apparently unquenchablehandkerchief hung limp and inactive from a coat-tail pocket, where ithad been jammed in a moment of unresigned despair; and the big tearsdropped one by one on Jeanie's hair, as he talked now in that quiet, grieved way. 

"Will you come back to us?" asked Mrs. Dering, much touched, and layingher hands on his shoulder. "We should so love to have you, Uncle Ridley, all of us. Go home and send Roger off if he wants to go; leave the Hallwith such old servants as you can trust, and then come back to us, andcall this home. Will you?"

"Will I?" Mr. Congreve jumped up, and the handkerchief came out in allits color and activity. "Are you really in earnest, Elizabeth? Would youhave such a crusty old humbug as I am, around?"

"In the truest and warmest earnest, Uncle Ridley. "

"Oh, please do, " cried Jean eagerly; and the other girls echoed it. 

"If I ever! God bless my soul! I never did!" exclaimed Mr. Congreve, falling back into his chair, perfectly overcome. "You will let me comeand stay till next summer, then you and Jean and Ernestine go home withme, as you promised?"

"Yes, " said Mrs. Dering. 

"Well, well, I might have known that the good Lord would fix it someway. That's just the thing. I'll do it, Elizabeth; I will. Where's mysnuff-box and satchel! It's pretty near train time. "

Jean ran to get them, while Mr. Congreve went up stairs to say good-byeto Ernestine; and when he went off at last, it was in the gayestpossible spirits, with promises to be back as soon as Roger startedabroad; and so all the sadness was taken from the parting. 

They thought he would be back in, at least, a month, but the timelengthened itself into three and four, and yet he did not come. Rogerwas sick, to begin with, and did not gain strength very rapidly, andnothing could have made the old man leave him. 

"But I can stand it very well, " he wrote. "I know that it's not going tolast, so I can keep up plenty of spirits, with thinking of the time whenI will come. The boy is getting better fast, and as soon as he settlesup a little business, he is off, and then I will shut up and be offlikewise, in a hurry. "

But they at home, found hands and hearts busy with new work that wassadly brief and bitter. As the warm weather came, Ernestine began tofail rapidly. She suffered no new pain, and uttered no complaint, but asthe days went by, and the intense heat of summer burned all purity andlife from the air, she just seemed to droop, and bow her head feeblybeneath the oppressive heat; and the frail stem of life snapped, withthe weight of its own slight self. They had hoped against hope, that thesad end could be fought off, and with the first coming of warm days, Mrs. Dering had proposed going to the sea-side with her; but Dr. Barnett, who had fought eagerly and desperately with the dread disease, told them that it would do no good. The excitement might only hasten theend, and better to leave her quiet, and so contentedly happy as sheseemed, than to bring new faces and new scenes to worry and distract thelast feeble remnant of her strength. So they submitted themselves to hisword, as one of authority, and took upon themselves the sad duty ofwatching a loved life drift peacefully out, and trying to say, as theend drew near: "Thy will be done. "

The big rocking-chair, the pretty wrappers, and gayly colored sacqueswere all laid aside now. The feeblest strength could no longer lift thefrail form, and all the patient sufferer said when lifted or moved was, "I'm so tired; that will do; it is quite easy. " Then the short breathwould give out, and she could only thank them with her eyes, that dailygrew more eloquently beautiful, as though the spirit, refined throughsuffering, were taking its last, long farewell look at mother andsisters, and uttering wordless thanks, which the heart loving thenframed, but the lips weakly refused to utter. 

"The end is not far off, " Dr. Barnett said, one sultry August night, after he had left the sick-room. "I shall go down and telegraph forOlive to come on the first train. "

Mrs. Dering laid her clasped hands on his arms with a little gasp, as ofone long expecting a bitter draught, and finding the cup held to herlips at last. But she was very quiet. 

"You think it will come to-night?"

"Hardly. She may live through to-morrow, but no longer, mother. "

There was something so helpful in his presence, the warm, lovingutterance of that dear name, and the strong, tender clasp of his hands, and she clung to him for a moment, as in recognition of the comfort andhelp he was, and had been in these sad days. 

"They have telegraphed for Olive, " Kittie whispered to Kat and Jean, asthey three sat sleeplessly on the bedside, with their arms about eachother, and a pale, hushed awe in their faces. 

"That means that she is going to die, " cried Kat, trembling. "Oh, howdreadful it is! I don't think it's right, no I don't. "

"Hush, " said Kittie, solemnly; but she couldn't say any more. Her ownheart was sadly rebellious, and could not think it was right. 

"It must be, " said Jean slowly, in her sweet, quiet way. "God neverdoes what isn't right; He can't, girls, though we can't alwaysunderstand why some things are. "

No one was disposed to speak further on the subject, the like of whichhas vexed many great minds, the world over, but they sat there hushedand quiet, and with awe-stricken hearts, as though they heard or feltthe noiseless approach of the coming king, who passed them by, and wentinto the room where the pale mother watched and prayed beside the quietsleeper. 

Dr. Barnett came back soon, and brought Bea with him; but after lookingin to speak a few hurried words that tried to be of comfort, she wentinto the other room, to take her place by the bedside, while the wornmother snatched a little rest, if not sleep, on the lounge near by. Sothe night crept slowly by, while anxious hearts and sleepless eyes keptsad vigil. In the first grey dawn of morning, Olive came; but whendaylight fairly blushed into rosy sunshine, Ernestine awoke from a longsleep, clear-eyed, feverless, and rational, and recognized them all witha quiet, peaceful smile. 

"You home in the middle of the week?" she said to Olive, with a littlewondering surprise. 

Dr. Barnett sent one swift, wordless glance of warning, and Olive caughtit. 

"Yes, I was not very busy this week and thought I would come home lastnight, " she said, warmly pressing the almost transparent fingers lyingon the coverlid, adding brightly: "How well you look this morning!"

"I feel better, " answered Ernestine, slowly. "So strangely better; allrested and in no pain. Where is mama?"

"Here, darling. "

"I--I feel so much better, mama, " lifting the feeble hand, with a lookof pleasure in her wan face. "It seems as if I was lying on the softestfeathers, and all well again. Everything is so very easy, and I haven'tany pain. "

"You are much better, dear, and we are very glad;" but Mrs. Dering benther head as she spoke, that no one might see the tremble of her lips, for well she knew, without any word or glance at her son-in-law's face, that the sufferer was passing into the sunlight of God's rest and love, and that the passing away of pain was because His hand had alreadytouched her. 

But to the girls it seemed different. To them, the clear, bright eyes, the quiet, easy breathing, and restful feeling, meant better for life, and they had a joyful jubilant time over it down stairs. They gatheredthe loveliest flowers in bloom, and took them up stairs, and Ernestinesmiled brightly and even held them for a few moments in her weak hands, keeping a pure, pale, creamy bud, when they put the rest in water. 

During the day Dr. Barnett brought some mail from the office, amongwhich was a letter from Ralph for Kat, and a strange one from New Yorkfor Kittie, which proved to be from Mr. Murray. 

"How funny!" she said, with a pleased smile. 

"What is he writing to you for?" inquired Kat, sharing the generalinterest and curiosity to such an extent that she forgot her own letter. "Is Pansy sick?"

"No; he only says how she is, and how she wishes for me every day, andwants me to write a letter, all to herself, " answered Kittie, too busyrunning her eyes over the few lines, with the signature

 "Yours, most sincerely, "PAUL MURRAY. "

in bold, handsome hand, to notice the different expressions in the eyesthat were watching her pleased, smiling face. Perhaps no one detectedtherein just what Mrs. Dering did, for it takes a marvelously smallthing, to open a mother's eyes. But then Kittie's pleasure was asinnocent as a child's; she read that letter over and over, and admiredthe beautiful writing, but thought that all her pleasure grew from thefact of hearing from Pansy, who had been gone a month, and said, as sheput it in her pocket, "It was very kind in Mr. Murray to write, I'm surefor I did want to hear from Pansy. "

But every one forgot the letters after awhile. 

At supper-time Ernestine asked for something to eat. She even raisedherself from the pillow by her own strength, and said how very hungryshe was, and as the girls left the room to get what she asked for, astrange cold thrill struck their hearts. Eagerly, as though famishing, Ernestine ate the cream toast that they brought, drank the chocolate, and asked for more. 

"Give her all she wants, " said Dr. Barnett, in answer to an appealinglook from Mrs. Dering; and so they brought more, with the strange painstill in their hearts; and she ate it eagerly, with that unearthlybrightness in her eyes, and such a fluttering stain of scarlet in herwasted cheeks. The sad truth came first to Beatrice, as she looked fromhusband to mother, and read it in their pale, quiet faces; then it cameto Olive, for she drew near, and put her arm around Bea, with a touchthat both gave and asked for help; and then Kittie and Kat, seeing thehopeless sadness in their faces, suddenly realized that they stood inthe dread presence at last, and with one accord turned to each other forhelp; while Jean crept to her mother's side, and hid her face in thefolds of her dress. So death found them, as he drew near, and claimed aplace before mother, sisters, or brother; but he did not comerepulsively, or like the grinning head that portrays him to our mind'seye; instead, it seemed as though a white angel, with kindly eyes haddrawn near, and breathed upon the sufferer before he kissed the lifefrom her lips; for after a short stupor Ernestine awoke, and looked uponthem with peaceful, shining eyes. 

"Don't cry, " she said, softly. "I am only going before, as papa did. Ithink I saw him while I slept, and I am not afraid. It is not a darkriver, mama, but beautiful and bright, and nothing can happen, for Godstands there and smiles. Please don't cry, or shut the windows; let thesunshine come in, and be glad that I will never suffer any more. Lift meup, mama. "

Mrs. Dering did so, and with her head pillowed on that dear breast, Ernestine sank to sleep like a child, breathing softly; while theshadows fell, and no one stirred. But the early moon rose slowly, andlighted the room, and as she drew her last breath, with a flutteringlittle sigh, it fell across her face, pure and sweet, and touched thewithered rose-bud, lying on the pillow. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

TWO SECRETS. 

Joy and sorrow, laughter and tears come and go and mingle as one inmemory of the past. Between _now_ and _then_, time weaves a veil, mistywith tears of our sorrow, and diamond dusted with the bright laughter ofour joy, and as we look through it, on the path that weaves ourfootsteps, the sunshine and shadows, that have fallen thereon, mingleand soften each other, so that neither the brilliant light of one northe saddening shade of the other can pain our eyes, that look back, inwistful, happy memory. 

In the fresh, pure air, that follows rain on a summer day, Kat wasleaning from the window, and watching the sun go slowly down behind thehills; while slender spires of light shot up into the hazy atmosphere, and pierced the flitting clouds. She was gazing idly, with eyes inwhich many thoughts lay dreamily, and the slight smile that touched herlips came, perhaps, from something in the letter that lay open in herlap, or maybe from the distant view of a basket buggy, drawn by a whitepony, coming slowly down the road, as though the riders were in nohaste. 

At any rate, she smiled; and it crept from the corners of her roguishmouth up to her eyes, and made her face very attractive, especially asshe leaned it against the vines that crept in at the window, and lookedthoughtfully down at the open letter. It was one such as she receivedvery often now-a-days, as a very large pack, all of that year's date, much worn, and tied with a blue ribbon, would testify. Most of them weredashed boldly off on large office paper, with "Kathie dear, " flourishedinto one corner, and news of all kinds, inquiries and odds and ends, filling several sheets, and "Yours, Ralph, " in business scrawls at thebottom. But this was different. It was on small note paper to beginwith, much more carefully written than usual, and contained no addresswhatever, simply starting off with what the writer had to say, and onlyfilling three pages. 

There was one particular place where Kat's eyes lingered, and where shesmiled, very slowly, as though it was something not to be enjoyed fully, all at once; and we will look right over her shoulder and read it asshe does again and again:--

 "The time is up now, and I am coming, if you say for me to. Will you? All my work has been done with the hope that you would let me come and share my success, whatever it might be, with you. It has been my one thought, and greatest incentive since I learned to know, and love you, as I did in the old days, when we skirmished and were gay, together. To-day, when I saw my name added as junior partner, to the finest law firm in our city, I thought of you, and felt more willing and proud to offer you that name. If you bid me come, I will do so; the walk out to Raymond's is short, and shall I meet you on the road!

 "RALPH. "

Should he meet her on the road? I've no way of telling you, I'm sure, for her answer is written and gone, and I, like you, will have to waitand see. 

The white pony and basket buggy draws nearer, it comes through the gateand up the drive, and as Kat watches it, some one comes to her side andlooks out also. 

"They've been a dreadful long ride, " says the new-comer, with animpatient relief, as she leans against the window. 

"Yes, " answered Kat, with a little start, just realizing the fact. 

"I think it's very funny, " Pansy continued, with a truly puzzled air. "When we was here before, papa always said to me, 'come, Pansy, let's gotake Miss Kittie to ride, ' and now he never does; he goes off all aloneby hisself, and takes her. "

"Is it possible!" said Kat with an air of interest. 

"Yes, 'tis; an' he does a lot of funny things. Once when we was to NewYork, I wanted a penny, and he said to get it in his pocket, an' therewasn't one penny there, but all the pretty letters Miss Kittie hadwrited to me for my own. I thought 'twas so funny, but he said they weresafer there, than in my box, an' I better leave 'm, so I did. "

"Very strange, " said Kat, with a solemn shake of her head. 

"I'll guess I'll go down and ask him what for he didn't take me, " saidPansy, going away, and leaving Kat to put her letter up and try to lookquite composed before Kittie came. 

You must know that this was two years later, and that the twins werespending a few weeks with the Raymond's, where there were several otheryoung people. Olive was working hard and rising steadily, and had neveronce been heard or suspected of wishing that Roger Congreve would comehome from the continent, where he still roamed and threatened to settle. She was completely devoted to her art, and was now paying her way byteaching, while she was being taught. Mrs. Dering and Jean were inVirginia, and when Olive or the twins came home, it was to Bea's home, where everything was cosy and happy, with the rising young physician andhis pretty little wife. 

Two years had made some changes in the twins, more perceptibly so in Katthan Kittie; for time and love work wonders, and while she would neverquite reach the perfection of lady-like grace and dignity, that madeKittie so charmingly attractive, she certainly had quieted much, wasmore careful of her language and dress, and bade fair to be a mostdelightful little woman after all, and one that Ralph might well loveand be proud of having won. 

When Kittie came up stairs, she was very quiet, and in answer toinquiries, said that her head ached. Kat was relieved to think she wouldnot have to be on close guard, for she did not feel like telling hersecret just then, and had rather dreaded Kittie's eyes. But Kittie waswholly absorbed in something else; she put away her things, and sat downby the window without saying much. 

"It's pretty near tea-time, " remarked Kat presently. "Are you allready?"

"I--don't believe I'll go down, " said Kittie. "I'm not hungry. "

"Humph!" thought Kat, with a sudden and intense curiosity. "I guess I'mnot the only one that has a secret. "

"Did you have a pleasant ride?" she asked, after some silence. 

"Yes--very;" answered Kittie absently. 

"You were gone long enough. "

No answer. 

"I had a letter from Ralph;" guardedly. 

"Did you?"

"Yes; I expect he'll come before long. "

"I'd like to see him;" with more interest. "Wouldn't you?"

"Yes--rather, " answered Kat, with a smile at herself in the glass, whereshe was comparing the effect of pink, or blue bow in her hair. "I'mgoing down now; what shall I say for you?"

"That I've a headache, and not hungry, " said Kittie, and Kat whiskedgayly off, laughing to herself, to think how she had intended to be themystifier, and instead, was the mystified. 

When Kittie was alone, she went to the glass, and leaning her chin inher hands, looked herself steadily in the face, as though absorbed in anew and astounding discovery. It was hard to tell just exactly how itaffected her, for she looked a good deal astonished, rather sober, butvery much pleased and a little bit shy. 

"I'm sure, " she said, nodding to herself with all earnestness, "I neverdreamed of such a thing before, but--but--I do believe it's so;" andthen she colored up all of a sudden, and the reflection disappeared fromview. 

Kat came upstairs very soon after supper, and found her sitting in justthe same place by the window, and just as little inclined to talk asbefore, which made matters seem uncomfortable. 

"I declare!" muttered Kat, slamming about in the clothes-press, with noparticular object in view, except to make a little noise. "This isabominable! I think she might tell me, but I'm not going to ask. I'msure, I'd tell her quick enough, but she don't care, and I sha'n't 'tillshe asks me;" and then becoming aware of the inconsistency of herreflections Kat shut the door with some force, and sat down in silence. 

There was no telling how long this pleasing quietude might have lasted, if it had not been for an immense bug that sailed in at the window, close to Kittie's nose, and began to bump gayly around the room, whileboth girls flew up, in feminine nervousness, and opened fire upon him, with any objects they might lay hands on. 

"Good gracious!" cried Kat, after a breathless battle, during whichthree chairs had been laid low, various objects upset, and the lampblown out. "Let the old thing go; it won't stay in the dark. What geesewe are anyhow, afraid of a bug. "

"I wasn't afraid, " said Kittie, dropping into her chair with anexhausted sigh. "But they always make me fidgetty; and, beside, it camein right across my nose. Well, anyhow, it's cooler in the dark. "

"What in the world are you so quiet for!" exclaimed Kat, in despair, after a few moments, during which silence settled again. 

"I? Nothing, " said Kittie, with a little start. 

"Nonsense!"

"Well, it's the truth; I didn't know that I was so quiet, " said Kittie, who in truth had nothing to tell. "I'll talk gay enough if you'll startme on something. "

"You never had to be started before, " grumbled Kat, who would haveteased and tormented unmercifully, had it not been for the weight of herown secret, which was wonderfully subduing. 

"We had a delightful ride, " continued Kittie, but with very apparentexertion. "Mr. Murray drove out by Hanging Rock, and that's five miles, you know, and then we came home by Craig's creek, and--it was very long. What did Ralph say? Where's the letter?"

"Oh!" said Kat, with a little gasp--for Kittie had covered the wholeground so quickly that it quite took her breath--"you can't read it inthe dark, and if we light the lamp that bug will come back. It was onlya small one. He has been admitted to the firm, and is coming pretty soonto see us. "

Something in the voice, for Kat couldn't hide anything successfully, drew Kittie's thoughts from herself, and made her turn to look closelyat the face just visible in the dark. It had been a settled fact in thefamily, for the past year, that Ralph was growing very fond of "Kathydear, " and that very likely she had been the great object in histhoughts when he went away, and promised to come back, and then--

"Kat, " said Kittie, with great solemnity, when her thoughts reached thatpoint, and she was conscious of feeling hurt. "I never thought you'dkeep such a thing from me, and wait for me to ask. "

"Neither did I think you would, but you are. "

"Me? Why I've nothing to tell. "

"Honestly?"

"Not a thing. And have you, really?"

"Nothing, except that he asked me if he should come, and I sent a letterright off, and told him yes, " confessed Kat, relieved to share hersecret, and feeling very glad and happy as she laid her head in Kittie'slap, as though to hide her face from the darkness. 

Kittie entirely forgot herself in that moment. There came a littlechoking feeling in her throat, to think that she now came second in thisdearest sister's heart, and she put her arms around her, with a littleresentful, defiant clasp, and said nothing. 

"Haven't you anything to confess?" asked Kat, in a moment. 

"Come, dear; be honest. "

"Not much, " said Kittie, slowly. "You know, I always thought Mr. Murraywas ever so much older than he is, and I never dreamed of his liking me, or any such thing, and it all seems so odd. But since he came this time, and we have been together so often, why--it all seemed different, youknow, though I can't tell just how. To-day, while we were riding, Idropped some flowers out of my hair, and he picked them up, and asked ifhe might keep them, and--and--that's all, " finished Kittie, quiteshamefacedly. 

"How romantic!" sighed Kat. "He'll say something pretty soon, and I'mvery glad. It would be dreadful for one of us to go, and not the other. But it all seems odd, doesn't it, dear?"

So they sat together for a long time, dreaming the dream that comesrosily and sweet to all, and the silent clasp of their arms, and thepressure of their cheeks, laid together in the twilight, expressed thewarm love that mutual joy brightened; and into this new experience, asin all that had come to them, they went hand in hand. 

After awhile, Kat went down to the parlors, where the young people were, and a very funny thing happened. It was too warm to dance, play games, or, in fact, remain in the house; so they strolled out in the yard, andover the veranda, and once, as Kat sat alone in a big rustic chair, shesaw Mr. Murray coming towards her. The light fell through the window, and out on to her face and head, showing a silver butterfly that Pansyhad given to Kittie, fastened in her hair; and guided by this, Mr. Murray drew near, and paused at her side, never doubting that she wasthe one he had been in search of. A few words were sufficient to revealhis mistake to Kat, but some mischievous impulse kept her quiet as toher identity, so they talked on and on, and presently he began to tellof the home he had prepared in the city, and Kat's heart sank with asudden thump, but what could she say? He went on without giving herchance to utter a word, and just as she was growing cold withapprehension, and hardly hearing what he was telling, he laid his handon hers that were clasped in her lap, and said very tenderly:

"Will you share it with me, darling? I have hoped and dreamed that youwould, and have made it beautiful for your sake. It has been many, manymonths since the sweet possibility"--but there Kat jumped up, scarletand ashamed. 

"Oh, Mr. Murray! I'm not Kittie; I'm so sorry; but I thought--I meant--Idon't know just what. I'll tell her to come down and I think she will, "Kat cried incoherently, and vanished with a complicated and wonderfulgesture of her hands, that might have passed for a supplication forforgiveness, a benediction, or total despair, or most anything. 

"Go down stairs, " were her first words, as she rushed into the roomwhere Kittie sat, and cast herself on to the bed with a hystericallaugh. "I've been, and gone, and done, and had a proposal from Mr. Murray, and you better go down quick. Oh, it's too funny, and he'sdreadfully in earnest; there's something about a sweet possibility, andyou'd better go down and listen to it. "

"What do you mean?" cried Kittie, starting up, and dropping her book, with a vague idea that Kat had lost her senses. 

"He thought I was you. Oh, it's too funny! and he is out there by thegeranium-bed waiting for you, " cried Kat, convulsed with laughter; andKittie dropped into her chair, all trembling. 

"Oh, Kat! how could you?"

"Bless you, I didn't do anything except promise to send you down, andyou better go. There, you look like a peach. Put this little posy inyour hair and go on. "

"Oh, I can't, " cried Kittie, all blushes and shyness. 

"Yes, you can, you must; it will never do in the world!" exclaimed Katwith decision; so with many pauses, much hesitation and trembling, Kittie went, and appeared shyly before her lover with down-cast eyes, and all the sweet color fled from cheek and lips. 

Of course, no one said anything, but somehow the secret crept into thegay company, and Kittie found her ordeal so trying that she threatenedto go home. 

"Of course we'll go as soon as Ralph comes, " said Kat, who had her ownreasons for wanting to get away then; so Kittie promised to wait thosefew days. It was very evident that Kat was going to meet him on theroad, for one lovely afternoon, a few days later, she was seen to strollaway, dressed with particular care in a pale blue lawn, with bunches offorget-me-nots in her hair and belt, and a very big hat thatconveniently and becomingly shaded her eyes, and flapped in the breezeas she walked. 

The train was in; it had whizzed around the corner of Raymond's farmover an hour ago, and Ralph had had time to nearly make the distancebetween the depôt and a certain tall sycamore tree, where she haddecided to stop and wait; so she strolled slowly, with her eyes down, and thought of him. He would look just as he used to, she thought, notrealizing the time that had elapsed, nor how much she had changedherself. There would be the merry dark eyes, and faint mustache, theeager, almost boyish face and figure, and he would kiss her, as he usedto, and how funny it would seem, to think they were nearly engaged. 

She smiled to herself, unconscious that he was drawing near, and eagerlywatching the pretty, slight, blue-robed figure, strolling in thesunshine; but she looked up in a moment and saw him. 

Was that Ralph? She felt her heart jump clear into her throat; as shepaused, and stared at the tall gentleman rapidly approaching, and shehad no strength to take another step. She had arranged a little speechto deliver at the proper moment, but, "By the sycamore passed he, and through the white clover;"

then all the sweet speech she had fashioned took flight. He came nearerwith eager brightness in his handsome eyes; he took her two resistlesshands and looked under her hat-brim. 

"Kathleen, is it you?"

At the sound of the voice, which was still the same, Kat was coveredwith a swift, shy confusion. She had expected a boy; there had come toher a man, who had come at her bidding, and who loved her. She longed torun away or hide her head, or something, but how could she when he heldher hands, and persisted in looking under her hat. 

"I expected to find you racing along the road or sitting on a fence, andwaiting for me, " he said, with a laugh. "I looked for my dear romp, andinstead of that, I meet a graceful lovely young woman with the sweetestface in the world, and I don't believe she's glad to see me. "

"What made you go and change so?" stammered Kat, still unable toreconcile the vision before her with the boyish Ralph Tremayne. "I'dnever known you, anywhere. "

"Nor I, you, hardly. What made you go and change so?" retorted he. 

"I haven't. "

"Neither have I. "

Whereupon they felt better acquainted, and laughed socially; then hekissed her, and slipped her hand through his arm. 

"You're not sorry you told me to come, are you?"

"Not a bit. Are you sorry you came?"

"Not a bit. You're altogether lovely and charming, my dear, and may Itell you how much I love you?"

"I guess you'd better not. I'll have to get a little better acquaintedwith you first, you've gone and grown so big and handsome, and allthat, " answered Kat, feeling more comfortable, and looking up at himwith some of the old saucy twinkle in her eyes. 

"Bless those eyes, " he exclaimed, with every symptom of telling theforbidden fact. "I must tell you, dear, that you have grown lovely. "

"You told me that once. "

"Don't you like to hear it?"

"I shouldn't wonder if I did. But I must tell you something importantbefore we go any farther, " said Kat solemnly. 

"Do so at once; I'm listening. "

"Well, Ralph, I've--I've had another proposal since I wrote to you, "confessed the wretched little hypocrite, with lowered hat-brim. 

"You have? By jingo! Who from?" Ralph dropped her hand, and the ruddycolor went from his face suddenly. 

"From a New York gentleman at Mrs. Raymond's, and--and--"

"Go on, " said Ralph shortly, his voice cold and hard. 

"He said he had built--no, bought--no, had a beautiful home, and askedme to share it, and I didn't know what on earth to say, so--I toldhim--that I wasn't Kittie, and then he changed his mind. "

"Kathy!" What a blessing it was that no one was anywhere near, for rightthere in the sunshine, Ralph threw his arm around her and drew herclose, to kiss the saucy lips and eyes. "How could you? I'm stunned outof a year's growth! Was it Murray?"

"Well, I don't think you'll miss it, " laughed Kat. "Yes, it was Mr. Murray, and Kittie's going to share that home. "

"You don't say so. We'll go off doubly and very soon, too, for of coursethe little mother will be willing. "

"Yes, of course, " said Kat. 

So they strolled on in the sunshine, and the sweetest story in theworld, gray with age, yet fresh as spring-time in their hearts, made thesunshine brighter than ever before to their happy eyes. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT. FIVE YEARS LATER. 

The house was lighted from attic to basement, and though it wasChristmas Eve, the air was like spring, for nature sometimes turnsfreakish, and smiles on us when we are expecting the cold shoulder. Hereand there, a window was open, for the Derings always did love plenty ofair; and so a merry sound of laughter and gay voices was wafted out intothe night air, and the old trees rustled joyfully, as though the soundwere a familiar and happy one to them, and it did their old bones--orbark, good to hear it. Even the vines, that clambered about as gayly nowas ever--only closer and thicker, tapped on the windows and nodded theirleafless heads, as though in welcome, and fairly rustled with joy cleardown to their aged roots, to see all the dear children at home oncemore. 

The front door stood hospitably open, as it had always had a trick ofdoing, and in the wide old hall were two children, one of whom sat onthe stairs, with a sober, thoughtful face, while the other, indiminutive petticoats, was trying to stand on his head against the stoutbannister-post. One failure followed another, in discouragingsuccession, but the little fellow kept determinedly at it, in spite ofbumps and thumps, and finally succeeded in hoisting his fat legs up forthe briefest second imaginable, which was perfectly satisfactory, andafter which he righted himself, with serenely glowing face. 

"Did, " he said, triumphantly; to which the judge, sitting gravely on thestairs, assented with much solemnity, and seemed to be casting about inhis mind for some other feat to propose. 

"Hurts, " said the young tumbler, rubbing his top-knot with a mite of ahand, and glancing severely at the judge. 

"Stand on this, " said the judge, coming down and offering his squareinch of pocket-handkerchief, which was accordingly laid down by thepost. "That makes it thoft; won't hurt now. Do't over. "

With a readiness and faith that was sublime, he of the petticoats wentat it, and had just succeeded in turning a side somersault, such as wasnever seen before, when further effort was nipped in the bud by some onecoming into the hall. 

"Good gracious!" cried a merry voice, as the tumbler was caught up, shaken, and set down with some force. "What are you up to now, Thomas, my lively son?"

"He wath standin' on hith head, auntie, " explained the judge, with greatpoliteness, as the tumbler appeared too much confused by all thecircumstances to make any answer. 

"Wath he, indeed?" laughed Thomas's mama. "Mashing his little head allto jelly; poor Tommy!"

"No, " said Tom, whose remarks were more noticeable for brevity thananything else. "No shelly. "

"Yes, indeed, little soft-head; come, ask papa, " and with that Mrs. Tremayne--for who should it be but lively Kat--shouldered her small, butambitious son, and carried him away. The judge looked forlorn afterthat. He folded his small handkerchief and put it carefully away in itstiny pocket, then he sat down on the lowest step and looked thoughtfullyout of the front door, as though he expected further developments toarrive from that direction. Nor was he disappointed. There arose a soundof labored and energetic breathing from without, as of some one toilingup the steps, and then something in white fluttered across the porch, and in at the door, and the judge fairly beamed with delight andsatisfaction. 

"Hullo!" he said politely. 

"'Llo, " returned the new-comer. 

"Where'd you come from?"

"Off, " said the stranger, with a flourish of both small arms, intendedto indicate some great distance. "Runned off. "

"Did you? From Pansy?"

"Yeth. " And the bunch of ruffles and brown ribbon shook its head withdistinctive force, while the bits of slippered feet began to dancewildly up and down the hall. 

"Mama'll come, " said the judge, warningly, and, sure enough, out came alady, with the loveliest face, and a white lace cap on her grey hair. 

"Come, dears, " she said, in a voice we know well and both flew to her, for who was dearer to their loving hearts than "Dramma?" "Time forlittle birdies to be eating supper, and getting little peepers shut uptight, before Santa Claus comes, " she said, going towards the diningroom, with a little hopper clinging to each hand, and playing peeparound her. Tom was already at the table, pounding with his spoon, andsmiling serenely through the milk that spattered his face from foreheadto chin, and there were two other bowls and spoons and high chairs, ready and waiting. 

"Naughty Louise, " said Mrs. Kittie, as she lifted the white-robed morselto her chair, and tied on her bib. "Run away from poor sister Pansy, andmake her feel bad. "

"All baddy, mama?" inquired Louise, looking over her bowl with repentanteyes. 

"She comed in the front door, " said Philip, otherwise the judge, who wasthe eldest hopeful of the Barnett household, and was, at present, underthe care of aunt Kathy, as mama Bea had the baby in the sitting-room. "Ithaw her, " he went on to explain with care; but was evidently disgusted, that every one laughed and talked, instead of listening to him; sopaused right there, and ate his bread and milk in silence and withdignity, not even unbending when Tom and Louise had a skirmish, andtestified their cousinly regard, by throwing their spoons at each other, and upsetting what milk had been left in their bowls. 

"Dear me, what children!" cried Kittie, running for a towel, with alaugh that sounded as though "such children" were very delightful. 

"Thomas, Thomas!" said Mrs. Kat, with an air of grave reproof, such asshe sometimes wasted on her lively son; and Thomas looked up at her, with roguish eyes, brimful of mischief, and fairly crowed with glee, amethod of expression that he resorted to in gay moments, as it was stillan exertion for him to talk. 

When the young people were finally carried off to bed, every one wentalong, for the gentlemen were all down town, and what better could themothers and aunties do than follow the procession headed by "Dramma, "and watch the roguish imps get into their snowy little nests? There wasmuch skirmishing and crowing, but it all ended in a doleful wail, forTom fell out of bed and bumped his precious head, and refused to becomforted, in any way, shape, or form, until Philip was heard to remarkwith admiration:

"You stood on your head, Tom, and wath straight up, " and that wasBalm-of-Gilead to the infantile soul of that Young America, for heimmediately ceased to weep, and looked content. 

They all lingered there some time after the children had grown quiet, but finally went down stairs, and left Grandma rocking and watching, till the last little peeper should be closed, for she insisted onstaying, as all the little folks were not with her always, and dearlyshe enjoyed each moment spent with them. 

Down stairs, the sisters clustered about the fire, with all the oldgirlish love and glee, and looking at them, in that familiar group, veryfew changes were noticeable, for time brings few foot-prints if theheart is happy. Bea wore a matronly little cap of bits of lace and bluebows, and held in her arms a gleeful baby, with roguish eyes and sunnylittle rings of hair, who was named after dear grandma, and whoobstinately refused to go "by-low, " as any well regulated baby ought todo, by seven o'clock in the evening. Kittie and Kat, on the lounge withclasped arms as of old, looked scarcely a whit changed, though they wereboth indelibly stamped with the grace and elegance of city ladies, andhad fulfilled the promise in girlhood, by becoming truly refined andlovely women. The little stool by the fire was not vacant, for there satJean as of old, with the same sweet face and lovely eyes, only now shewas taller than mama, and the still childish face wore a perfecthappiness, for on the hand that supported her chin, the firelight showeda ring, and in the smiling eyes any one could read the story of it. Olive was there too. Olive, of whom they were all so proud, and who wasstill Olive Dering; and time had made her very fair to look upon; forenergy and purpose had stamped her face indelibly, and the clear eyeswere beautiful in their light of strength and happy content. She was nolonger a struggling girl, battling with all circumstances, and fightingher way into work, but a woman, restful, yet not resting, in perfectsuccess; for every nerve was still alert to further progress, and everywish and ambition had been sacrificed to one great desire, which wouldnext year be satisfied; she was going to Europe. Masters and travelawaited her eager heart, and her own hand had carved the way. Her studioin New York was filled with works; many homes, far and wide, owed theirpleasure, in the portrayed face of some dear one, to her pencil orbrushes; and a large class, constantly increasing in size, trod thefirst pathways of art under her careful guidance. And so with hard workand economy, the money had come in, and been laid away; and now at last, there was enough. Mother and Olive were going to Europe. 

I know it is all very nice and easy to carry a girl through ambitiousbattles in a book, and after a lapse of years, which are left to theimagination, to bring her out, glowing with success, and with herheart's desire realized. It is done in a book this time; but OliveDering's love and longing for art, her struggles, determination, andfinal success, are taken from the life of one who still lives, and whois now enjoying the perfect happiness earned by hard labor, in thegalleries of the old masters. There had been toil and troubles andtrials; discouraging tears and times of despair, in the years throughwhich we have slipped without a pause; but it would do no good to tellthem all; it is enough to know that patience, perseverance and will hadovercome them, as there is rarely a case where they will not. 

"Next year this time we'll not be here together, " said Kittie, breakinga long pause, such as will often come, when hearts are content withworldless communion. 

"Why not?" asked Jean. "Mama and Olive being in Italy, is no reason whyyou should not come and spend Christmas with me. "

"Bless the baby, to think she will be married then, " exclaimed Bea, caressing the brown head with loving hand. "Every one gone from the oldhome but Jeanie, and she presiding over it, a married lady; to think ofit, girls?"

"So wags the world, " said Kat with a brisk nod. "I think it would be sadto come here and spend Christmas, with Olive and mama gone; but you mustall come to Boston, and if my house isn't big enough, I'll have anaddition put on. "

"No, my home is best, " put in Kittie with decision. "It's between youall, and is plenty big enough. That is the place. "

"Yes, indeed, " chimed in Pansy, who was now a tall pretty girl of ten, and perfectly devoted to mama. "We want you to come to New York, andspoke about it before we left home; didn't we mama?"

"Yes, and we'll wage a brisk war with any one who puts in a claim, soyou had better subside at once my dear, " answered Kittie with a smile ather twin, which looked like most anything except a war-like preparation. 

"There's the gate, the boys are coming, " was the answer of Mrs. Kat, andsure enough, there arose a clatter of feet on the porch, a smell ofcigar smoke in the air, and in came "the boys, " with the usual amount ofnoise, which boys, big or little, invariably make; and then grandma cameflitting down stairs, with a smile and a warning "hush;" and there theywere all together. 

Supper was a gloriously gay meal, where every one's health was drank infragrant coffee, from Grandma Dering, down to Prince, who had beenreturned to the home of his youth, and was passing his last days inpeaceful content, with just enough exercise to keep his old bones fromrusting out too fast. And then they talked of those who were gone fromthe circle: Father Dering, Ernestine, and lastly, dear old Uncle Ridley, who had died that year, and for whom every one had such a warm lovingmemory. 

After supper the boys went off to the library to smoke, and mother anddaughters clustered together in the dear old sitting-room, to chatlovingly as in other days; for now, as then, the sweet motherly face, towhich they still looked for love, comfort, and praise, was the dearestin the world to them, and the loveliest, they all thought, with itsserene happy smile and contented loving eyes. 

"Has anybody any disappointments to tell to-night, " she asked, lookingaround at the bright happy faces, and remembering another night longago, when they all sat so, and told such. 

"Yes, I've got one, " announced Kat, just as briskly as she had done onthat other night. "I can't, to save my life, arrive at the point where Iwill always look stately and unruffled, and ready to receive callers, inspite of babies and household work, as Mrs. McGregor does, who livesopposite me. And then, I do believe that Thomas is going to be short andfat, instead of tall and slim, and from present indications I think hewill prefer being a clown to anything else in the world. That's mydisappointment, and it's just about as sensible as my other, but it'sthe best I've got. What's yours, Kittie?"

"I don't know, I'm sure, " answered Kittie, looking down into Pansy'supturned face, and laying her hand lovingly on the curly head. "I havethe dearest husband, and two of the most precious little daughters inthe world, and what more could I ask? I always did want curly hair andblack eyes, but Pansy has one, and Louise the other, so I'm content. Theonly disappointment I have, is that mama and Olive will not be with usnext Christmas. "

"Well, I've a very small one, " said Bea, as she rocked and trotted, witha vain attempt to get small Bessie's eyes shut. "Walter isn't quite aswell as I should like to have him; he works too hard, poor fellow, and Iwant him to go off to the mountains next summer, and get rested, but wecan't all afford to go, and he says he will not go and leave me at homein the hot weather with the house and babies. So I can't help worryingand wishing that I could help him some way. "

"You do help him, dear, " interposed Mrs. Dering promptly. "You keep homebright and happy, and anticipate all his wants and wishes. In times ofweariness or trouble, he has you and the dear babies for comfort. Youlove, sympathize and help him in a thousand ways, the want of which hecould not do without. "

"And sew on his buttons, " added Kat. "Don't leave that out, for if he'sanything like Ralph, it's a mighty big item. "

"And here's my little girl, " continued Mrs. Dering in a moment, andlooking down at Jean, whose head lay in her lap. "Has she any?"

"None, mama, " answered Jean, looking up with happy eyes. "Except thatyou are going away, and that Uncle Ridley is not here. "

"Surely, no one supposes for an instant that I have any, " said Olive, and every one shook their heads in a decided negative, except Mrs. Dering, and she looked across into Olive's eyes with a smile, and Olive, catching the look, dropped them to the fire, and said no more. She hadintimated that she had none; but was it so in the depths of her heart?Was she quite content?

"You do to-night, as you did before, and no one asks me for mine, " saidMrs. Dering with a smile. "Do you rightly guess that I have none?"

"We hope that you have none, mama, " said Bea, lovingly. 

"Indeed, I have not, my dear girls; instead, as I sit here to-night withyou all around me, I wonder if I am fully grateful for how good God hasbeen to me. I look at you, and I see in my girls just such good, truewomen as their father would have them, and I am more than content. Iwould that these three vacant places might be filled to-night, but Godknows best, and I feel only love, not regret. No, my dear girls, I haveno disappointments to-night, only a heart full of happiness andcontent. "

They were silent after that for a little while, and then Bess droppedto sleep, and Olive crossed to Bea's side, as the gentlemen were heardcoming from the library. 

"Let me take her up stairs, Bea--you look tired;" and Bea handed theprecious charge over, and Olive went slowly up stairs, with her armstenderly clasped about the little form, her cheeks laid to the soft babyface, and a look in her eyes that mother might have read had she seenit. 

The sleepers already there, and sprawled about in characteristicattitudes, was a sight to hold one's gaze. 

Philip lay perfectly straight and orderly, with a sober countenance, andboth hands crossed on his little stomach; while Tom, the tumbler, hadcompletely reversed himself, and lay with his feet on the pillow, hisbody in a snarl, and his head just ready to fall off the edge with thenext jerk. Louise had dispensed with her pillow, it was on the floor, while she lay in the sweetest possible attitude, with one tiny handunder the dimpled cheek, on which the long, dark lashes rested softly, and one wee snowy little foot peeped out of the clothes. Olive laid thebaby in its nest, and covered it warmly, bending many times to kiss therosy little face; then she righted Tom, restored the pillow, and removedsome of Philip's covering, as he seemed to be too warm; and then shestood still looking at them. 

Was she perfectly happy, and quite content?

The pale light that fell across her, as she stood there watching thesleepers, with eyes that were traitorously expressive, would have made avery dear picture to one pair of eyes, had they not been too far away torest on. The grey dress which she wore, fell in colorless draperies, andthe soft laces at her throat and wrists, were very becoming to the clearskin. In the rich dark hair, was a white flower, that touched the tip ofher ear as with a caress; but greatest of all was the eyes, that weregrowing dim with tears, as she stood there. The feeling that was in herheart was no new one, but to-night it came differently from what it everhad before. Then it had only been a half defined loneliness that couldbe quenched with a little effort, and pass without a name; but to-nightit came surging up and assumed shape and title before her eyes. She hadno claim on these little ones; she would never be able to stand so andwatch one of her own in its innocent sleep. Would never feel the tenderhappiness of knowing that her blood beat in another little heart, thather life had given breath to its laughing lips, and the warm color tothe dimpled cheeks. In the room down stairs, each sister had her own;even little Jean would soon be claimed by one to whom she was dearerthan all else in the world; and in a few years mother might be gone, andthen--_success_ was hers. She had worked and won. Her name was on manylips, and her fame spreading. The goal she had looked forward to foryears, with eager heart, was hers at last, and while the anticipation, had in this case, lost nothing through possession; did it wholly satisfyher? Was there no corner, no longing, or want that brushes, oils, andinspiration failed to satisfy? Her eyes grew blind with strange, wistfultears, a queer choking filled her throat, and with a sudden movement shehad crossed the room and knelt down by the baby. Had she nodisappointment? Would she not have said "come, " to some one, still awanderer beyond the seas, had it been in her power? Or, had he stoodbefore her, with the old, old longing, would she have drawn back andsaid: "My art is all I want. "

Ah, indeed, Uncle Ridley had been right:

 "A single flame gives little warmth, and needs a kindred spark. "

Art was none the less dear, but the woman's heart had asserted itself, and there was a yearning passionate cry for a love that would answer tothat, which had so strangely grown within her heart, and which calledfor something more than a lifeless irresponsive idol. 

Sometimes, even out of books, the right thing happens just at the rightmoment; then, again, sometimes it does not; but this is what happenedjust at that moment. Some one had been standing in the shadow outsidethe door, for several moments and now entered, and crossing the room, stood beside her, kneeling there, and said:

"Olive. "

She stood up quickly, and looked at him for a moment, and knew him, inspite of seven years' absence, and the bronze and change wrought by timeand constant travel. Yes, she knew him, for the eyes were the same, andwore the look she had seen in them last. It was a true love that hadbided its time, and won its reward at last. She did not blush rosy red, as most women would have done, but a speechless joy came slowly into hereyes, where the tears yet lay, and she was quite silent. 

"You have no welcome for me?" he asked, holding out his hand. "Have Iwaited so long, and come in vain, at last, Olive?"

"No, " she answered, finding her voice, and it sounded strangely sweetand glad, even to herself, as she drew nearer and laid her hand in his. "I am glad that you came; I--I have wished that you would. "

It was not a romantic place at all, with the three little tumbled bedsand sleepers; the diminutive stockings, shoes, and slips, scatteredabout, and Philip unmistakably snoring, as became a worn-out judge. Butas he clasped the hand laid in his, and drawing her to him, kissed hergladly, I doubt if the most romantic spot, either side the sea, couldhave made that meeting sweeter to either of them. 

"I was on the porch when you passed through the hall, " said Roger, in amoment. "I had been out there some little time watching you through thewindow, and studying your face, that I have so longed and hungered tosee in these years, and I read in it such complete happiness, that myheart failed me. I had waited till you should reach the perfect goal ofyour ambition, and should know what it was to own fame; and as I lookedat you, to-night, I thought it satisfied your heart entirely. So I wastempted to go away without having you send me. When you came into thehall with the baby, I followed you up here--quite against my will. Asyou stood here a few moments ago, and I saw that sadness creep into yourface and eyes, I first thought that, perhaps, I had not come in vain. And have you really wished that I would come, Olive?"

"Yes; neither my work nor my life is perfect without you, Roger, and Ithink that I have known it for some time, though I never so fullyconfessed it to myself as to-night. I honestly sent you from me, and Ihonestly welcome you back. I have nothing more to wish for now. "

So together they went down stairs, and the wanderer's welcome farexceeded his strongest hopes. A new ray of light and joy seemed broughtinto that circle, with this new union of hands, hearts, and happiness;and as Mrs. Dering kissed each of her girls good-night, she said, looking into Olive's eyes, with a loving smile:

"I fully believe, dear, that now you have no disappointment. "

 +------------------------------------------------+ |Transcriber's Note: | | | |The illustration on page 267 with the caption | |"WHAT IS THE MATTER? WHAT HAS HAPPENED?" was not| |available for inclusion in this ebook. | +------------------------------------------------+