suddenly to grow good, people would be disappointed!" There was truth in this. All her life Cecil had afforded to her friends that interest of shuddering disapproval which is so delightful. Even her father had felt it when he came home to see her married. "There are possibilities in this affair," he thought, watching her with amiable, impersonal interest. "If this Philip would get drunk once in a while, or swear at her, I think it might turn out pretty well. But he won't, he won't," said Mr. Drayton, with real regret; "he 'll be too damned polite to her." He was surprised at his fatherly solicitude; for the paternal tie is weakened after twelve years of absence, broken only by occasional visits. "The young man," he meditated, standing on the threshold, bidding adieu to the departing bride and groom, · "the young man is in love; there's no doubt about that. And as for her, I suppose he is the first man she has seen, and so she's in love, too. But very likely she'd have married the Devil to get away from Frances." He was really interested; perhaps, could his visit have been prolonged, he might have felt some anxiety in spite of himself. He was absent-minded as he listened to Old Chester's praise of Philip, and ominous omission of Cecil's name. "The boy is an ascetic," he was saying to himself," and she". He closed his lips; at least she was Cecilla's child. He had not seen her since, for, the winter that the young husband and wife were in Paris, there were reasons why Mr. Drayton could not ask his daughter to visit what he called his "humble roof" in Cannes; and so, to avoid embarrassing inhospitality, he had found it necessary to be in Egypt for his health. The next time he came to Old Chester, Philip and his wife were living in town, and, as Mrs. Drayton explained, "dear William was unwilling to take a moment from me, though he would have been interested to see Molly, of course." When her step-daughter married, the consolation of living in the finest house in Old Chester was taken away from Mrs. Drayton. The Poindexter house had belonged to the first Mrs. Drayton, and had been settled on her child, as was also her not inconsiderable fortune. But when the plans for Cecil's wedding were made, Mr. Drayton arranged that his wife and younger daughter should take a house in the village, "where," he wrote, as soon as my miserable health permits, I shall hope to join my dear ones permanently." But thus far his health had not permitted. That moving from her sister's house had been a great trial to Alicia, who had been born there, and had spent a happy childhood in its gardens and orchards; but she had not been able to think very much of her own feelings. All her childish courage was needed to sustain her mother, who wept and moaned, and said that Cecil had turned her out of doors. "Papa has made this arrangement, Mrs. Drayton," her step-daughter reminded her briefly; and Mrs. Drayton's pride refused her the luxury of finding fault with her husband. It was nine years ago that this change was made, but Alicia's deepest home feeling was still for the great brick house on the hill, where she had spent those twelve happy years. She could see it from her window in the village, lifting above the foliage on the hillside its square, flat roof with the white balustrade. The house had white corner trimmings, and white lintels and copings, and the worn brick floor of the veranda was darkened by a roof lifted above the second-story windows by four white columns. It was cool on this porch, even on a June day like this on which Cecil and her husband were coming back to Old Chester to spend the summer, day brimming with hot sunshine, and with not a breath of wind to carry the scents of the garden up to the open windows of the house. a Alicia Drayton had sheltered herself under a big umbrella when she climbed the hill; but she was glad to sit down on the porch steps and rest, and fan herself with her hat, before going indoors to her pleasant task of giving the final touches of order and comfort to her sister's house. She called over her shoulder to Eliza Todd, who was scrubbing somewhere within, and came clattering through the hall to tell Miss Drayton that all the mopboards were cleaned, and every window was done," and done good," Eliza said; and that consciousness made her feel enough at leisure to stand leaning on her broom listening to Miss Lyssie, who was incapable of seeing any reason why she should not tell her scrubbing-woman how happy she was to have her sister at home again. "And Molly! Molly is my little niece, Eliza; she's just eight. Oh, she is the dearest little thing! Though she can't be very little now; she was five the last time I saw her, and of course she's grown since then." infelicities were very puzzling to Lyssie. Once, hesitatingly, after discouraging efforts to reconcile the husband and wife, whose violent quarrels were commonplace village gossip, she had suggested to Miss Carr that Eliza be advised to leave Job. "They don't like each other, Miss Susan," the girl said, "and he treats her badly, and we have to support the children." "Why, he is her husband, Lyssie Drayton!" cried Miss Susan. "You don't know what you are talking about, child!" And her horrified disapproval closed Alicia's lips. "But I'm going to ask Ceci what she thinks," Lyssie said to herself, when, late in the afternoon, a half hour before it was time to expect the stage, she went out on the porch again to rest. And then, in her own happiness, she could not help forgetting poor Eliza and her troubles. A red rose leaned its chin upon the balustrade and looked at her. "And have they just the one?" said Alicia pulled it down against her cheek in a pretty caress; it made her think of her sister. It was brimmed with sunshine, and hot and sweet with passionate color. She remembered how Cecil liked to sit in the sunshine, with lovely, lazy, half-shut eyes, and strong white fingers clasped behind her head; her lip - Alicia looked at the rose what a way Cecil had of holding her lip between her teeth, and "Well," Eliza commented, 66 a mother, she's always got love enough to go round, somehow. I wish you could say the same of shoes." "How is Job, Eliza?" the girl asked then letting it go, wet and red! Alicia kindly. "He's been sober for three days," said Job's wife. "If your sister had to count days between sprees, she might say she was glad there was only one. And me with six, an' another coming! Well, Miss Lyssie, the Good Man's judgment ain't just like ours, is it? Me with six, an' only one in a nice house like this! Well, I guess I'll go back to that hall; it wants to be swep' once more." Alicia followed her in pitying silence, and a grave look lingered in her face even when she was busy with her pleasant work. Her scrubwoman's domestic twisted the thorny stem, but dropped it quickly, and put her finger to her lips and said, "Ouch!" and then tried again to pluck it. "I'll put it on her dressing table," she reflected, "and tell her it looks like her." II. At five, when the yellow coach, swinging, pitching on its big springs, came rumbling up the lane, with much clattering of harness and cracking of the whip, Cecil Shore's house was all ready for her. Philip was on the top seat with the driver, his hand on the collar of a big dog, whose trepidation at his swaying elevation was manifest; his master's face broke into a smile at the sight of Alicia, standing in happy excitement on the steps, and before the horses could come to a standstill he had swung himself down and kissed her, with one hand on her shoulder, and the other dragging Eric back, for the dog had followed him with a flying leap. Then he turned and opened the stage door, which was glowing with an Italian landscape of mountains, lakes, and Lombardy poplars. "Let me help you, Cecil," he said. Cecil, in the dark cavern of the coach, was smiling at some one beside her. "Yes, that is Lyssie, that is my sister," she was explaining. "Lys dear, here "Lys dear, here we are! Have you worked your little hands off for us?" The soft, dark feathers of her wide hat brushed the top of the stage doorway, as, slowly, touching her husband's arm to steady herself, she came down the two hinged steps; then she smiled up at Alicia, and put two fingers under the girl's chin and kissed her. "Bless your dear little heart!" she said. "I hope you are not worn out by house-cleaning?" And then she looked over her shoulder at the gentleman who had followed her from the coach, and upon whom Eric was bestowing a warm, wet welcome. "This is Mr. Carey, Lyssie; my sister, Mr. Carey. Oh, don't let Eric jump all over you! Well, Lys dear, how are you? Oh, Lyssie, I left my book in the stage; get it, dear, will you?" Alicia had no eyes for any one but Cecil. She ran back for the book, and stopped to hug Molly once again, and said no more than "Excuse me" when she brushed past Mr. Carey and followed her sister into the drawing-room. There she put Cecil into a big chair, and then stood and looked at her, her breath shaken by a happiness which brought the tears to her eyes. "Oh, my dear!" she said; strangely enough, the older woman stirred all the mother in the girl. "Oh, Ceci, to think you are here!" She slipped down to the floor, and put her arms about her sister's waist and kissed her shoulder. "Are you well? Is Philip well? Molly looks as blooming as a rose. Oh, Ceci, there never was anybody so dear as you! "Molly is an angel," Molly's mother declared. "Lyssie, here is Mr. Carey. Mr. Carey, a declaration is being made me." She bent Alicia's face back and kissed her, smiling, and then she glanced about the long, pleasant room. "Oh, how familiar it all looks! Mr. Carey, my sister has put this whole house in order for me." Mr. Carey, standing in the doorway, was civilly surprised at Miss Drayton's goodness, and cleverness, and anything else that Mrs. Shore chose to say, but he was plainly more interested in Eric, who ought to have some water, he said. "Here, you brute," he protested, "don't jump on me! Mrs. Shore, may Eric come into the parlor? "You must ask Lyssie," she said, leaning back in her chair. "May he come in, Lys? How cool it is in here with this white matting on the floor! Lyssie, the house looks as though it had been lived in always; and let me see — it's three years since we've been here, is n't it? Those poppies are superb. Oh, what color, what color! Mrs. Drayton sent them? She's very good, I'm sure. I hope she is quite well? Molly, come pull off mamma's gloves. And how is Old Chester, Lyssie? Is everybody asleep? Do you think they will waken up to talk about me? Oh, do put those poppies here beside me; that scarlet is I think it is an expression of religion. Poor Lys, how I shock you! Mr. Carey, did you know that Mr. Shore was the Example of Old Chester, and I the Warning? We come like two traveling evangelists." "Well, I will go and assist the Ex ample," said the young man, and went out into the hall, where the master of the house was giving directions about trunks and boxes. Alicia was so far used to the excited happiness of the arrival that she glanced at Mr. Carey, and thought that his short, rough, blond hair made him rather good looking. He also glanced at her with a pair of candid, obstinate blue eyes, and said to himself, "To think of those two women being sisters!" Indeed, his impression of her was deep enough to make him say, while he was looking after Eric's comfort, "She seems like a mighty nice girl." Cecil, meantime, in her big, cool bedroom, was explaining her guest to her sister. "I hardly know him; I've only seen him twice. He's a friend of Philip's; he's a lawyer, but quite an authority on pig iron, too. He looks it, somehow, don't you think he does? The word suggests him, -pig iron. Well, you know Philip is writing a book on the chemical changes in pig iron, Heaven knows why! One would think he had enough on his hands with his scholarship fund and his political people; but he persuaded Mr. Carey to come down for a fortnight and help him about something. Philip thinks him charming," she ended, and smiled, with the corner of her red lip drooping; "but really, he is n't bad, Lys?" She had taken a gold pin from her hair, and two braids fell heavily upon her shoulders. Lyssie, her elbows on the toilet table, and her chin in her hands, sat absorbed in looking at her. "Oh, Ceci, I wish you would never go away again," she said. "My dear! I should die here," Cecil assured her seriously. "A summer is all I can think of. I wanted Molly to be in the country, in some quiet place, and I wanted to see you, so I thought I could stand Old Chester for three months. But this room is certainly very nice," she broke off, with such a kind look that Alicia forgot the fatigue of her day's work. She glanced at the white curtains in the four deep windows, and reflected how she had hammered her thumb in putting them up'; but what did that matter? Cecil liked her room! There was matting on the floor, and white covers on the furniture, and a deep white valance about the bed, whose four tall posts were crowned with a tester. It, too, was hung with white dimThere were two silver candlesticks on the table, and an India china bowl full of pale pink roses. There was also a deep red rose in a glass on the toilet table. ity. "I thought it looked like you, Ceci," the younger sister said timidly. 66 rooni. No, not a rose, Lys," she corrected her slowly, with a melodious break of silence between her sentences. "I'm a peony. I've no soul. Put it in Philip's He is all soul! Philip has almost converted Mr. Carey (his name is Roger, Roger Carey) to his political opinions. Not quite, though, as he has an interest in a rolling-mill at Mercer, and iron rust doth corrupt, so he's still a Republican. But I almost wish he would get converted, I'm so tired of hearing the excellent Philip plead with him. They talked about it in the train, all the way to Mercer. I composed a new soup in my mind, to keep the refrain of ' reform from putting me to sleep. Well, what do you think of him, Lys?" "He looks rather nice," Alicia commented, "and he was good to Eric." "Oh, he is given up to dogs and horses and all that sort of thing; he 's that sort of a man. But he's good natured, and, thank Heaven, he has a sense of humor. I like to talk to him, though he is rude. I think, if he had been born in a different class, he would have knocked his wife down sometimes, or sworn at her, anyhow." "Is he married?" Lyssie said. "Oh dear, no; he has n't money enough to marry. What do you think of his looks?" "I'd rather think of yours," Lyssie declared. "His eyes seemed nice, and I thought he was rather a rosy person; oh, quite good looking, I think. But, Ceci, I think you - Oh, when you bring those two braids around behind your ears and cross them on top of your head, with those little tendrils of curls sticking out of them, they look like a chaplet of laurel!" "You are rather nice looking your self," said the other, thrusting the gold pin through these same splendid braids, and glancing with kind eyes at her young sister, who indeed had no more claim to beauty than is given by mere youth, with perhaps a fresh color, and frank eyes, and a well-shaped head set on a slender, girlish neck. "Yes, though not a raving beauty, you are nice to look at. How is our dear papa, Lys? I have n't heard from him for six months. I think he never included me among his dear ones."" 66 "About the same, I think," Alicia answered soberly. Mother had a letter last week. I wish she were able to join him, Ceci. I think, if she just got through the voyage, Cannes would be good for her." "Good gracious!" cried Cecil. "Well, Lyssie, don't let Mrs. Drayton come down upon him unexpectedly; don't surprise him, dear." "Oh, there really is n't any chance of her doing it," Lyssie said; "but why not? I always thought that it would be so pleasant, to be surprised?' "I-I don't think it would be pleasant," Mrs. Shore answered briefly; and added, "for our dear papa." And then she laughed, and pushed her chair back from the dressing table, resting her fingers on its linen cover, and glancing into the long mirror which stood behind it, between the windows. "Well, is there anything interesting going on in Old Chester? Oh, I forgot don't you remember? She was engaged to Mr. Joseph Lavendar, and they quarreled; and she married some rich man right off, oh, in a month, I think, or something like that. Well, he was Mr. Pendleton; he died nearly two years ago. Such crape! She must have been very much attached to him; she 's all covered up in crape yet. And he left her a house here, and quite a lot of money," said Lyssie, with some awe; "they say five thousand a year!" Cecil laughed, and rose. "What a fortune! I should think Mr. Joseph would try to make up." "I think he'd like to," Lyssie said; "but they say that if she marries again she has to give up the money; and then, I don't think Dr. Lavendar likes her, so Mr. Joseph could n't." "Is Dr. Lavendar just as dusty and tangled looking as ever?" Cecil inquired. "People really ought not to be allowed to offend the world by their looks! I had such a time this spring with my coachman. He appeared, if you please, in blue spectacles. It did n't interfere with his driving, of course, but he was a perfect object! I told him I could n't have it. He could take off the spectacles or leave. He left so annoying in him!" "But the poor man's eyes," protested Lyssie; "perhaps he needed blue glasses?" "Well, that was n't my affair," Cecil said gayly; "and I certainly was not going to endure blue goggles because Jones had poor eyes." "But he must have felt rather dis |