THE MAYPAIR 7859 MELROSE AVENUE HOLLYWOOD, CALIF. THE MAYFAIR RENTAL LIBRARY BOOK No. RULES^ The rental charge on this book is....c?s~*fcents per day for the first 7 days and 5 cents per day thereafter until book is returned. 2. Charges include day book is taken from and day it is returned to library. Minimum charge is 5 cents. L Renter is to pay full retail price of book together with rental and collection charges if, for any reason, this book is not returned. section 6231/0, Penal Code. State of California Wilful detention of ibrary books. Whoever wilfully detains any book * * or other )roperty belonging to any public or incorporated library, reading room, * * for thirty days after notice in writing to return the same, given after the expiration of the time which by the rules of such nstitution such article * * may be kept, is guilty of a misdemeanor and shall be punished accordingly. Clara Lomsc 33 urn I) am IN APPLE-BLOSSOM TIME. Illustrated. HEARTS' HAVEN. Illustrated by Helen Mason Grose. INSTFAD OF THE THORN. With frontispiece. THE RIGHT TRACK. Wilh frontispiece in color. THE GOLDEN DOG. Illustrated in color. THE INNER FLAME With froi.tispiece in color. CLEVER BETSY. Illustrated FLUTTERFLY. Illtisiralcd. THE LEAVEN OF LOVE With frontispiece :n color. THE QUEST FLOWER. Illustrated. THE OPENED SMU r 'ERS. With fronusp ece in color. JEWEL: A CHAPTER IN HER LirE. Illustrated. JEWEL'S STORY BOOK. Illustrated. THE RIGHT PRINCESS MISS PRITCHARD'S WEDDING TRIP. YOUNG MAIDS AND OLD. DEARLY BOUGHT. NO GENTLEMEN. A SANE LUNATIC. NEXT DOOR. THE MISTRESS OF BEECH KNOLL. MISS BAGG'S SECRETARY DR. LATIMER. SWEET CLOVER. A Romance of the White City. THE WISE WOMAN. MISS ARCHER ARCHER. A GREAT LOVE. A Novel. A WEST POINT WOOING, and Other Stories. HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY BOSTON AND Nrwr YORK NEXT DOOR BY CLARA LOUISE BURNHAM AUTHOR Of " YOUNQ MAIDS AND OLD," "NO GENTLEMEN," ETC BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY ptw CambriCoe COPYRIGHT, 1886, BY TICKNOR AND COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY CLARA LOUISE BURNHAM ALL RIGHTS RESERVED COKTEKTS. CHAPTER FAr I. AUNT ANN'S DECISION 5 II. THE LAST PLATFORM 11 III. KATE'S THEORIES 20 IV. KITS' TRAVELS 28 V. AUNT ANN'S SHOPPING 36 VI. KATE AND MARGERY 44 VII. A VISIT OF CEREMONY 55 VIII. THE GIRLS' PHOTOGRAPHS 67 IX. A COUP D'ETAT 78 X. MARGERY'S CONFESSION 9? XI. A LITTLE DIFFERENCE 1(X XII. AN UMBRELLA AND A ROSE 116 XIII. BAD NEWS 126 XIV. THE COMMITTEE DECIDE 140 XV. FRILLS AND FURBELOWS 149 XVI. MRS. FARRAR'S MUSICALE ...... 156 XVII. CROSS-QUESTIONINGS 178 XVIII. KATE ACCEPTS ADVICE 190 XIX. MARGERY RECEIVES .... ,205 2224804 i CONTENTS. XX. A BUSINESS OFFER 218 XXL AUNT ANN OPENS HER HEART .... 233 XXII. RAY CROSSES THE RUBICON 246 XXIII. UNCLE AND NEPHEW 260 XXIV. KATE'S DIPLOMACY 278 XXV. IN THE COUNTRY 286 XXVI. MARGERY SUSPECTS 298 XXVII. AT MRS. PARKER'S 313 XXVIII. MRS. EXTON is SHOCKED 332 XXIX. "THEE LOVED I EVEB" 345 JSXX. WOOD VIOLETS . 356 NEXT DOOR. CHAPTER I. AUNT ANN'S DECISION. AUNT ANN EATON was alone in her sitting-room, surroundings were as orderly as heart could wish. NTot a shi'ed or clipping defaced the rag carpet. Not a speck of dust rested on the straight-legged stand which held her work-basket. The brass handles of the secretary, which seemed to be drawing itself flat against the wall, in order to take up as little room as possible, tinily reflected the fire glowing in the open stove ; a generous, warm fire, such as one would know to be the only sort Aunt Ann could build. The very cat, an imposingly large, well-fed Maltese, had his fore- paws tucked in symmetrically under his soft breast as he basked in the warmth, and studied the leaping flames with half-closed eyes. The table in the centre of the room, beside which his mistress was sitting, was covered with a faded green and black cloth which had seen years of service, but was spotless yet. The lamp upon it shone with rubbing, and burned with a clear, broad light. ft I NEXT DOOR. In all the simple scene there was nothing awry but Aunt Ann's own cap, and this misfortune, of which the wearer was unconscious, was due to the fact that two pairs of spectacles had in turn been pushed to the top of her head, to make room for a third, in heavy gold frames, and much too broad for the dear woman's comfort, through which she was studying one of two open letters which lay spread out before her on the table. Her forefinger traced an imaginary line under each sentence while she read as follows, metering her com- ments aloud : Oct. 20, 1881. DEAK AUNT ANN, Do you rernemDer toe fellow who lived at your house three years ago, and nearly ate you on* of house and home? (I declare I didn't, at first; it's a wonder how time tempers afflictions.) I do not believe you have had the courage to keep another summer boarder since we left you. (Yes, I have, young man; but your match I have never found.) And yet I want you to forget old scores, and do me a big favor. I saw by the papers that your father had left you. (H'm, h'm ! poor pa.) Please accept my hearty sympathy. I know you expected, even when we were in Cedarville, that he could not live long, so I hope you were prepared for the loss. (That can't ever be, my boy.) What I want you to do, Aunt Ann, if you are well, and willing to make a change, is to come into the city this winter, and keep house for a few of ns old bachelors. t have come to Boston to go into my uncle's office, and, according to his suggestion, a few fellows and myself, instead of boarding, are going to take a house, and have a housekeeper; just the right sort of a one, like you. Do no| refuse us. will you? I have cracked you up to the skies ATJNT ANN'S DECISION. 7 but don't you be afraid ; you can do every bit I have prom- ised, and if you get tird of us we will let you off in the epring. And don't you worry about being ruined. My appetite has fallen off wonderfully. You ought to see my present indifference to apples and boiled eggs. (Well, well, I can't hardly believe it, but still I'd hope for the best.) Uncle John has closed the bargain for a house this morn- ing, so please hurry up and let us hear your decision. As for me, I shall not have an easy moment until I know what sort of dinners I am going to have all winter. (That don't sound like cai'elessness of victuals.) So do not postpone, but speak at once the one little word which is to nuiko happy Yours forever, RAY INGALLS, Block, City. Aunt Ann sighed, straightened up in her chair, and, gently removing the glasses, wiped her tired eyes with her handkerchief. "Pa's specs don't see any more objection to it than mine did," she observed, "and I don't suppose I have any right to sleep on it another night, if they are really in a hurry, as that rascal says they are. I wouldn't go if it was to have the care of that boy; no, not if Cedarville was duller than it is twice over ; but there's Uncle John! Yes, indeed, Kits," looking pensively across at the somnolent cat, "Uncle John is ray main- stay. It is lonely here, now that pa's gone ; lonelier even than I thought it could be. Not that you care, Kits. So long as you have your fire and me, you don't care a mouse-tail whether I am happy or not." At the reproachful tone, Kits opened his mouth wmd went through the form of a "meow," too indo 8 NEXT DOOR. lent to utter a sound, then relapsed into unrepent ant enjoyment. "Yes," continued Aunt Ann, her eyes wandering thoughtf ully to the blaze, " if I was really aunt to that scamp I should shrink from undertaking any position of responsibility near him ; but his own uncle will have him under his eye night and day, and I shall leave everything to him. Lucy Robinson and her mother will be glad to come right in here. They'll take good care of the house, and then, most important of all, I can have an eye to the girls" ; and Aunt Ann drew toward her the second letter, not quite so well worn as the first, and, adjusting her own familiar spec tacles, perused it once more : BOSTON, Oct. 20, 1881. MY DEAR AUNT ANN, It is an iL return for your kind- ness and interest in our welfare, to write you so seldom. I am especially to blame for not responding sooner to yonr kind offer that we should spend the winter with you. You understand the case, do you not, dear Aunt Ann? We can- not afford to live in any way but the present one. If w came to Cedarville, it would be as dependants upon you, while as we are now situated we do manage to be self- supporting. I ought not to give up the church position that Madam Sevrance pi-ocured for me, which, with the lit- tle teaching I do, and Margery's good management at home makes both ends meet, although in an inelegant way which irritates my little sister very much. It is kind of you to keep up your interest in nieces of whom you have seen so little, and I value your affection, and am conscious of a dependence on the fact that there is a loving aunt who Would receive us into her quiet, peaceful home in case of AUNT ANN'S DECISION. 9 need. I fear you are very lonely since grandfather went, and I wish I had a home where I could welcome you to pleasant change and recreation. Surely no daughter ever was more devoted than you have been. When I think ol what your cares must have been in that tedious illness, I realize your patience and cheerfulness. It is time to give a lesson, and I must go. Write soon again to Your loving niece, KATE STANDISH. "A good girl," mused Aunt Ann, "a good girl. I should like to know the ins and outs of their life since Henry Standish died. Oh, men, men! I suppose I hadn't ought to set up for a judge, being an old maid ; but from my standpoint, Kits," addressing the heavily purring cat, " it does seem as though your sex galli- vants through life, while ours plods. Married or sin- gle, seems as if the torments of life, mostly little ones, to be sure, but a pile of 'em, was ours, and the pleasures yours. However, it looks as though I was going to have a better chance of studying male character than what I have had. I shall like the change to the city ; I don't deny it. I've been tied down pretty close, and I shall like to see some of the gay sights. But I shall amazingly like to walk in upon Kate and Margery." Aunt Ann stooped her plump figure, remarkably shapely for her fifty years, and adjusted the ribbon on her cat's neck. " Blue does become you, Kits. Now look at there. You've smooched your best tie, Mercy on me, what will you do in Boston, where it's o much dirtier than this ? It will be a big bother, but tO NEXT DOOR. I shall have to take you around to the stores and see if I can match you in ribbon, and if I can I shall buy a whole bolt, and keep you in gray all the time. It will mortify your pride, and be good for you. Now, then," with a sigh and a shake of the head, " I must write a word to Ray Ingalls. Dear, dear, it's a great step ; but it does comfort me to think that I shall only have my routine work to do, there will be good, Btaid Uncle John to see to the rest. Boys are a terri- ble responsibility, especially that boy." CHAPTER II. THE LAST PLATFORM. AT the depot of one of the more distant suburbs ol Boston, on a late afternoon in October, stood a group of young ladies conversirg in an animated manner, with complete disregard for that law of etiquette which demands that one person ahall have finished Bpeaking before another commences. One in particu- lar seemed to be the centre of attraction. She was a pretty creature of eighteen years, with a great deal of red-brown hair which evidently resisted being com- pressed into twists compact enough for fashion, blue eyes, now glinting and laughing merrily, and a fine iskin, smooth and white. "Oh, I ought to have taken the last train, girls. See how low the sun is. Kate will be so annoyed ! " she exclaimed parenthetically ; " she won't let me come out here again for an age. How fortunate that this is an express. There it comes now." Then followed last words, exactions, promises, and kisses, in such profusion as seems possible only among a bevy of schoolgirls, lasting so long as to threaten the possible losing of this train also. 11 12 NEXT DOOB. " Write to me first, Margery. You've promised, remember." "See if you can't come out next Saturday. If Kate won't let you, run away." "Yes, yes, anything. Mercy, the bell is ringing! Do you want me to get left again? The last plat- form of the last car, as usual,''' laughed Margery, mounting to that elevation just as the engine moved. Her enthusiastic friends walked a few steps beside her on the platform. They were her schoolmates, from whom she had been prematurely separated by reverses of fortune. A most unkind fate they felt it to be, that gay, clever, generous-hearted Margery should be obliged to leave them, should be obliged to forego all the glories of graduation for petty money considera- tions. She was the prime favorite of her class, and had not an enemy among the number. No wonder they hailed with joy the occasional visits she was able to make them, and parted from her with a reluctance that would fain retard the time and train that bore her away. "Good-bye, good-bye," came from the group, who waved their handkerchiefs after the re- treating figure. Margery sent them a gay nod and a lingering, smiling look, then turned to enter the car. As she did so, a man jumped up on the opposite step, a belated passenger, who had evidently but narrowly escaped waiting for the next train to Boston. He was a tall man of grave countenance, smooth shaven, thin-lipped, and dark-skinned. Margery glanced at him, and then turned the handle THE LAST PLATFOBM. 13 of the door. As it stuck, she flung her body against it. Her companion observed her fruitless effort. "Allow me," he said, and the girl stepped back cau- tiously, holding well to the rail, for the express had now attained full speed, and the rush and swing con* fused her. Her fellow-passenger grasped the handle, looking in through the door, which remained firmly closed i spite of his efforts. " What is this," he muttered ; then continued in a louder and annoyed tone, '* This car is empty and locked.'* " Locked ! It cannot be locked ! " exclaimed Mar- gery, leaning toward the window and looking aghast at the blankness within, while a sensation of loneli- ness and fright came over her, despite the familiarity of the flying landscape. What a situation ! Alone, or worse than alone, on the last platform of the last car of a train which for nearly an hour would not cease- from this jerking, swinging, dizzying pace. She glanced apprehensively at her companion, and with a woman's quickness comprehended the perfec- tion of his attire. His uncompromising face, too, with its slight frown, reassured her. She plucked no 'courage to address him. " Isn't there something we could pull, or or something?" she suggested, with a vague look at the roof of the car; but her voice was too faint to be heard, and moreover no cord dangled encouragingly above them. At the same moment her companion 14 NEXT DOOR, grasped her suddenly and unceremoniously by the arm as the train in going around a curve swayed her irresistibly against him. "Thank you, excuse me," she exclaimed. "Oh, I am so dizzy." Her fellow-passenger's countenance lost its intro- spective frown as he noted her pallor. " Do you feel faint ? " he inquired anxiously, only now realizing that somebody else, and that somebody quite a young girl, required his attention. " Struggle against it if possible, I beg of you." Margery gently withdrew her arm. " I shall not faint. I never do. I am only a little dizzy-headed." "Then you had better sit down on the step. It will be much safer. Wait a moment," and so saying, the gentleman removed the large silk handkerchief lying immaculately white beneath his coat collar, and, spreading it on the step, placed his foot upon its edge to hold it in place. "Thank you, but don't do that, please; it is not necessary at all," said Margery, looking down over her well-shaped, but inexpensive dress. " I am sure the step would soil you," he replied. u Give me your hand, please." The girl obeyed and was soon safely seated. Her companion looked at her undecidedly. " Is there any danger of your being giddy enough to faU off?" " No danger at all, thank you. I am very comfort- able." She received no reply to this, and for a time THE LAST PLATFORM. 15 no sound was heard save that of the train. Cmiosity then overpowering her, she looked slowly and cau- tiously over her shoulder. On the opposite step sat her fellow-passenger, his back turned squarely upon her, his head erect, and his whole attitude that of a dignified resignation to circumstances. As her un- easiness disappeared, her ever ready and keen sense of the ludicrous gained control. What would the girls say to see her now, solemnly sitting back to back with this unknown companion. At the thought she began to laugh ; and as it was rather a new experience to Margery to be obliged to contain her laughter, her fellow-passenger, when a little later he remembered her existence and turned about, saw her shaking with apparent sobs. He leaned toward her, startling her by his sudden speech. "Can I do anything for you? Are you feeling m?" She turned her flushed face toward him. As he saw her irrepressible smile and his own mis- take, he also smiled, in a slight, grave fashion. Mar- gery g-rew warm with a sudden surprise. Like a flash arose before her a scene in one of the busiest streets of Boston. A pair of horses rearing and plunging at a crossing. Herself, her arms full of bundles, attempt- ing to cross before the excited animals, and, starting back in fear, dropping the packages, which scattered hither and thither. A gentleman behind her, who came to the rescue, picked up the parcels, and restored them with ,hat smile accompanying the action. 16 NEXT DOOR. Margery in her agitation could not have remem- bered the man, but she remembered the smile. It was loftily kind, and sweet, and noble, she thought. It had not in it a shade of ridicule. The vision passed. Her companion was speaking. " I think myself we have cause to congratulate our- selves on the shortness of the days. We might pro- vide the populace too much amusement," he said, and then Margery laughed out contagiously. " There is something so so ignominious about our position," she returned. "We are so helpless." " Well," replied the other, " if the railroad company thrusts ignominy upon us in this way, it must expect to be cheated. We have solved the question of economical travel at any rate." "It is really getting dark," said the girl, looking about apprehensively. " I ought to have caught the last train." "Will your people be anxious about you?" "My sister will, I am afraid. She is apt to be anxious." " You must let me take you safely home," was the kind reply. "As we have shared so many difficulties together, I should be sorry not to see you well situated before we separate. There is my card." Margery accepted it. The name thereon was John Exton. "Thank you, Mr. Exton," she replied, "but Kate, my sister will be sure to meet me. She always does, no matter how erratic my movements are.'* THE LAST PLATFORM. 17 " You are fortunate to have a sister so devoted." "Ah," with a little shake of the head, "indeed I am. Nobody knows what Kate is, nobody except me, and I sometimes think that I cannot appreciate her." Mr. Exton regarded the young, earnest face, grow- ing indistinct now in the waning light. " You are modest," he replied. Margery looked up, and observed the increasing number of buildings and the lessening speed of the train. "Ah, we are nearly there," she said; then, with sudden eagerness, " Don't you think we could manage to get off a little before the train stops? I do not wish to to " "To take too many people into our confidence?" " Yes. Only," here she gave an irrepressible little laugh, " I do wish Kate my sister could see us first. She would be so so magnificently shocked." "Well, I think we can hardly risk her being on the spot at precisely the right moment," and Mr. Exton, who had risen, offered his hand to his companion. Margery rose with his assistance, and, smiling brightly, handed him his muffler. " Thank you very much," she said ; " I was fortunate not to be alone in this predicament. You have been very kind." Her companion's impressive figure towered beside her. At her spontaneous words he lifted his hat and bowed slightly. 18 NEXT DOOR. The train came gradually to a standstill, but befora it had stopped Mr. Exton had jumped off and his fellow-passenger stood ready to descend. With her foot on the second step she caught sight of a tall, graceful figure scanning the passengers with beautiful, anxious eyes. " There is Kate, now ! Kate ! " she exclaimed. Her sister heard her and turned quickly. She had Mar- gery's exquisite complexion but that the elder's was more colorless, large, gray-blue eyes, and a dimple in the chin, which softened the too great gravity of her face. "Did you worry, Kate? I know you did. I am so sorry. Let me introduce to you Mr. Exton, who has befriended me ever since we left W . This is my sister, Miss Standish." " Shall I have the pleasure of escorting you home, or of getting you a carriage ? " asked Exton, after the customary salutations had been exchanged. The look of annoyance which had flashed into Kate's face at sight of her sister in the company of a stranger, now deepened, while Margery glanced at her anxiously. "I thank you, no," Kate said, quietly and civilly. " My sister and I are never afraid together." " I fear your sister must be chilled. I shall be glad to call upon you to-morrow and assure myself that she has not suffered." Miss Standish slipped her hand through Margery's arm, while her color rose, and her manner grew evei moro distant. THE LAST PLATFOKM. 19 *'My sister is very strong, Mr. Exton, and "we do Dot receive visitors. Good night." But Margery did not relish the abruptness of this parting. Even as her sister drew her away, she turned and held out her hand to her new friend with hef brightest look. "Thank you again, Mr. Exton," she said, as ha shook her hand. " Good CHAFi'ER IIL KATE'S THEORIES. Ow their way home the sisters were seated on oppo Bite sides of the horse-car which they had taken just outside the depot. Speech being impossible, mis- chievous Margery rather enjoyed the stern seriousness of Kate's face. The latter evidently avoided meet- ing her sister's eye, and therefore Margery sedulously endeavored to catch the wandering glance, and, on the rare occasions of success, beamed upon Kate with a cheerful assurance which rather deepened the impene> trable gravity of the latter's countenance. At last Kate rose and rang the bell. The car stopped in front of a block of brick houses, into one of which the girls passed with the aid of a latch key. Margery came last up the stairs and followed her Bister into a back room on the second floor. " Shall I go right into the closet, Kate," she asked, w or may I say a few words in my own defence first?* " I am not in a joking mood, Margery," replied the other, taking off her outer garments. a That remark is quite superfluous. You dear old 20 KATE'S THEORIES. 21 Kate! how you do distrust me, don't you?" and Margery turned her back in an injured fashion as she struggled out of her tight-fitting walking-jacket. Kate's anxious eyes followed her movements. " I know that you seldom stop to think until after- ward," she answered. " If it wasn't all so perfectly ridiculous, I should be angry with you," said Margery, half laughing, but with an inclination to tears. " You have only lived three years longer than I have, though you do pretend to be such a grandmother. We have had the same bringing-up, and yet nothing will convince you that I know how to behave. I wish you would either send me to a reform school at once or else have a little confidence in me," and now the tears triumphed, although the laughter struggled with them. Kate put an arm around the speaker and drew her down on the side of the bed. " Don't get excited, Margery dear. You see I am not excited." " Oh, of course not, Grandma ! " retorted the other, tearfully. " I have every confidence in your meaning well, Margery; every confidence. You know that. But you do not always look at things as I do. You do not take the same view of our circumstances that I do, nor shape your actions to suit them as I wish you would." " No, I believe you would like us to dress like nuns, and go about with our eyes down and our hands folded. I don't see tne necessity for it. I never 22 NEXT DOOR. shall. We have lost our parents and our money, :ir>-d our home ; but we are young and full of life, and it is folly to talk about our behaving like eighty -year-old dummies." "Margery, we are unprotected girls, alone in a boarding-house. We cannot " "Who wants to be protected?" interrupted the other, with extreme scorn. "In this free country, girls can protect themselves." " That is precisely it," said Kate, seriously. " We must protect ourselves by being entirely quiet and unobtrusive. Now, you are naturally an obtrusive girl, Margery." " Thank you so much ! " exclaimed the other, in indignant surprise. " A noticeable girl, I mean. You need always to be toning yourself down and controlling your impulses." " Well, this is a pretty reward for my behavior to-day, I must say," burst forth Margery, her fluffy hair awry and her eyes flashing. " I should like to have seen you in my place. I should like to know what you would have done. I know one thing, you would not have been as agreeable as I was." *'I am sure I should not," returned Kate, with something like a groan, and a return of her anxious expression. "You know I am waiting for an explana- tion of how you and Mr. Exton should so suddenly have become friends." " You speak as though you knew him." "I have known him for some time by sight, as h KATE'S THEORIES. 23 attends the Church of The Apostles. He is very rich and an important personage in the society." " Does he bring a wife to church with him ? " No." " Then I shall insist upon going with you here- after." " You will not do anything of the kind," said Kate, quickly. " We decided that, you know. You will continue to attend our own church." " Well," said Margery, with a comical little shrug, "we diverge, as the novels say." Then, suddenly changing her manner, "Kate Standish, you shall not look at me that way. You are absolutely scowling. All this fuss because you saw a good, rich old church- member help me off the train. It is absurd." " He is not old. He is not over thirty," replied the other, severely. " His riches we have nothing to do with." " No, I wish we had," said Margei-y, mutinously. " And we have no idea whether he is good or not." "Did you ever see him smile?" " Certainly not." " Well, I have, and I know he is good. He is the very man who helped me with my packages that time a few weeks ago when I was so nearly run over." " And he scraped acquaintance with you on that slight pretext ! " " Yes, indeed," exclaimed Margery, with desperate gayety, " and we laughed and chatted all the way in from W , and we have promised to correspond! 24 NEXT DOOR. and I am going to the theatre with him next week, and" " Margery ! " "He looks like that kind of man, doesn't he?" con- tinued the girl, dropping into a severe tone. " That is what I find fault with you for, Kate. You are too suspicious. Of course I should have told you the whole state of the case when I first came in, if you hadn't looked so portentously, aggravatingly solemn and suspicious. You ought to believe me innocent until I am proved guilty, instead of vice versa. You ought to have an unshakable confidence in me," pur- sued Margery, with dignity. " For instance, if I tell you that I stayed out on the back platform of the train with Mr. Exton all the way in" here Kate evidently became rigidly apprehensive " you ought be entirely undisturbed." " You didn't, Margery ! " "Yes, I did. If I tell you that he lent me his muffler, and held me by the arm, you ought to look well, exactly opposite in every respect to what you do now. Shall I throw some water in your face ? If I tell you that we kept out of sight and didn't pay a cent of fare yes, really, that we stole a ride " " Margery, there is some explanation ! " " Oh, you really think so ? That is what you ought to have thought in the first place. You are quite right." And Margery condescendingly gave an ao count of her adventure, ending with a hearty burst o| laughter. KATE'S THEOEIES. 25 u It was the funniest thing in life. I didn't entirely realize it at the time ; and now you see how wise you were to snub Mr. Exton, and refuse to allow him to call." " Does any gentleman call on us ? " " No, and none ever wanted to before," returned the other, bluntly ; " I mean since we have been here." "Where would you receive him if he were to come? I cannot picture Mr. Exton in Mrs. Brown's parlor,'' said Kate, with a little scornful smile. " He is the loveliest man I ever saw," said Margery, irrelevantly and thoughtf ully ; " not handsome, but a thousand times better than that. I am so glad he be- friended me." "Why?" " Because he will be more likely to remember me," was the naive reply. " He will not remember you," said Kate, coldly. " It is not probable that you will ever see him again." " It will not be my fault if I do not. I shall be on the lookout for him." " You will be very foolish if you think about him at all. You are practically as distantly separated from him as though you were a ragpicker." " Oh, now you are talking Madam Sevrance." " And Madam Sevrance is right." "Ah me, how tiresome you make the world between you," said Margery, wearily. " My father and mother tf ere as respectable as Mr. Exton's." Kate drew nearer, put her strong young arms ai-ound 20 NEXT DOOR. her, and laid her cheek tenderly on the red-brown hair. *' It is not that, dear," she said ; " but Mr. Exton is of the aristocracy of this free and equal land. Profes- sional women have neither time nor ability to mingle in it." "Yes, yes, and you are a professional woman ; and professional women are often courteously received in the best society, but always with a proviso. Their in- tellects or accomplishments are admired ; but they are never fully and freely received, nor married by the swells of swelldom. I have heard it all often enough," and Margery turned impatiently in her sister's arms. "Dearest Kate," with a sudden affectionate qualm, " you have had to turn professional for me." " Professional is rather a big word for it, dear," and the older girl smiled down with a world of love upon the face on her breast. " Besides, is it not for myself first of all?" "And I am mean enough to fume over my part of the work. Oh, Kate, I do hate it all ; economizing, and scrimping, and living in this miserable dark hole ! " And Margery looked contemptuously around the little room, with its unsightly outlook on alleys and sheds. " I love it," said Kate, fervently ; " for it is ours, and we are independent." "But we are so young, and want so much ; and we never have any diversion ; and we have no friends of eny account. You avoid anybody at all promising, iike Mr. Exton." " For our own good and happiness, Margery. The KATE'S THEORIES. 27 lime may come when all that sort of intercourse will be possible. Now it is impossible. You see it ? " " Dear old Kate ! I wish it were as easy for me to be reconciled to it as it is for you. Why, we might as well be dead as to live this way," and Margery sat up with an emphatic gesture. " There is only one thing that can deliver us, and that is for one of us to marry an immensely rich man ; and I think Mr. Exton would do. He is pretty old, and does not wear a mustache ; but he would do." " It is very condescending of you to think so," re- marked Kate. "In fact half the difficulty is surmounted now." "What do you mean?" " That I am in love with him," returned Margery, calmly. . CHAPTER I\r. KITS' TRAVELS. IT was on a clear, bracing morning that Aunt Ann left Cedarville. It was not only a momentous move for her, but it affected all her neighbors to such an extent that the depot platform was well filled with mourners of all ages. Aunt Ann cheered the older ones to the best of her ability with hearty words, and silently bestowed peppermints upon the children. She even had a bright reply for the village croaker, a dis- mal widow, who gave it as her opinion that the travel- ler would " surely rue the day." " I ain't one to look back," said Aunt Ann, firmly. " I expect a sight of trouble wherever I am, and I propose to take it in a new place ; that's all. Perhaps I'll be pleasantly surprised, and have an easier time than I look for; though I should hate to disappoint you, Sister Low," she added, with a cheerful laugh, to which the dismal one responded with a groan. " We shall miss you beyond tellin'," the latter ob. served, with increased dolor. t; There won't be nobody to hope for the best, now you're gone." 28 KITS' TRAVELS. 29 " Begin yourself, sister ; begin yourself. Yon never can tell what you can do till you try." It was a part- ing bit of advice ; for the engine appeared around the curve, good-byes were exchanged, and the beloved traveller was launched upon her journey. She waved her hand, in its roomy glove, at the window, as the train moved, and then leaned back in her seat with a Bigh of relief. She had nothing to regret in this break in the monotony of her life. Her house was in order, and left in safe hands. Her trunk she had her- self seen lifted upon the train. Her own personal appearance she knew to be the height of respectability. She was arrayed in a black dress, cloak, bonnet, and gloves, with a pale mink collar, having tabs down the front, from which depended six tails. Her muff waa of the same ; and on her arm hung a spacious covered! black basket. This she now took carefully in her lap, and eyed with a new expression of anxiety. As the basket, however, presented nothing suspicious in its appearance, but continued to repose lifelessly upon the inink-tails, she relaxed her gaze, and began to look with interest upon her surroundings. She found plenty to excite her wonder and admiration. Her in- terest in mirrors and plush had not yet subsided when the conductor made his appearance. Although Aunt Ann usually felt the most placid indifference to the male sex, the sight of this good-looking functionary strangely perturbed her. Her heart leaped in lief bosom, and unconsciously she braced herself. She gave him her ticket with a hand whose tren* 80 NEXT DOOR. bling she on iy hoped he would not observe ; and at the same unhappy moment the cover of the basket up- heaved in a manner as mysterious as it was unmistak- able. " Ahem," said the conductor, fixing sharp eyes upon it. " A pretty big lunch-basket you have there." "Yes," replied Aunt Ann, folding her hands convul- sively upon it ; "I have a good, healthy appetite, thank you, sir." "Madam, I am obliged to ask you what you have in that basket." Aunt Ann met his gaze with one which was stonily firm, although desperate. " Fur," she replied. "Fur?" and the conductor smiled broadly, upon which Aunt Ann took encouragement. "Yes, young man," she said, with a pleading look that would have melted an ogre, " very valuable fur, that I wouldn't be separated from for any money." " Well, mind it stays in the basket, or else I shall have to call around again," and the conductor passed on, pursued by Aunt Ann's benedictions. "How could you, Kits," she exclaimed, reproach- fully, with her lips close to the wicker. "I've most got a chill, I was so scared ; after all the lessons you've had, too, and the hours I've spent carting you around in this basket. Oh, how shall we ever get through the day!" Still, on the whole, Kits redeemed his character. Once or twice he uttered an audible protest against thi KITS' TRAVELS. 31 Unprecedented length of his imprisonment; and at nuch times Aunt Ann would clear her throat with astounding suddenness and loudness, or hum a few measures of " Silver Street." It was a great relief to her when finally Boston was reached. Before the train stopped, a very good-look- ing and exquisitely attired young man boarded it, and made a tour of the cars, evidently in search of some one.. It was quite as much of an astonishment to Aunt Ann as to her fellow-passengers to see such a "glass of fash- ion and mould of form " pause in the aisle beside her. She looked up, and met a pair of brown eyes that fairly laughed as they met hers, and a strangely familiar smile, only altered by a youthful, daintily pointed mustache. The apparition raised his hat. "Aunt Ann, aren't you ashamed of yourself? You don't know me." Aunt Ann drew her head back with a jerk; and the corners of her lips twitched down. " Why, you rascal ! " she exclaimed, holding out her hand, " I do believe it's you." " I believe so," replied the new-comer, laughing and shaking her hand. " How you have grown ! " pursued Aunt Ann, in delighted admiration, surveying the well-proportioned figure. kt Well, don't tell people that aren't interested," re- turned Ray, flushing at the distinct compliment, and aware of their neighbors' attention. "Let me take rour basket." 82 NEXT DOOR. Aunt Ann compressed her lips, and gave him a pro fligious wink, but refused his offer. " Why ? Contraband goods ? " ) " Hush-sh ! " Fortunately the train now came to a final stop; and Aunt Ann, hugging the basket, followed her escort out upon the platform. A hackman, who had evidently been told to await them, touched his hat, and went out to his carriage. By the way, nowhere does Boston's boasted culture show itself more refreshingly than in the behavior of her hackmen, who stand unique among their kind ; a quiet, restful contrast to their brethren, the howling, shrieking mob that infests the depots of other cities, and distracts the weary traveller. From the depths of a grateful heart I say, Blessings upon Boston hackmen ! Aunt Ann sank into the cushioned seat of the car- riage as into the lap of luxury. " Ray, this is extravagance," she said, with a sigh ; but I am beat." " We want to treat yon well, so you'll stay with us," replied the young man, who possibly might have been conscious of a desire to conceal his unmistakably country friend from public gaze. Certainly no squeam- ishness of that sort appeared in his manner, which was hearty and affectionate, while a light of amusement Aanced in his eyes whenever they fell upon his com- panion. " Come, now, Aunt Ann, at least put your bnsket over on the other seat. No wonder you are tired." KITS TIIAVELS. 33 "No wonder, indeed," replied the other, emphatic" ally. " I would rather do a day's washing than sit in state on velvet, as I have to-day, with such a load on " "Your lap?" " No, sir, my mind. Ray Ingalls, look me in the eye. Kits is in this basket." " Old Kits ! Good enough," laughed Ray. " I don't think, Ray," and Aunt Ann's head fell on the side, and she took a cajoling tone, "I don't think you ever really hurt Kits." " Hurt him ! Of course not. Why, Kits just dotes on me. Let's have him out. Come on, old fellow." "No, no. Hands off," exclaimed Aunt Ann, hold- ing down the lid firmly. "Wait till we get -there." "Home; say home, Aunt Ann. It will be a home when you are settled in it. I confess it isn't much like it now." "Tell me all about it. How many are there of you?" "Four. There's Herring, a dry old fellow that 1 didn't want around, but Uncle John did, so he had to come. Then there's Sharp, figure of a telegraph pole but first-rate fellow ; and Wiley, a widower, some rela- tion to Kits I think, by the way he steps around ; and your humble servant. You might set your cap for Wiley, Aunt Ann ; gray and respectable, you know. He's in the office." " And your Uncle John," added Aunt Ann, in hei earnestness passing over Ra}''s tjuggestion. 84 NEXT DOOR. "Oh, no, Uncle John doesn't live with us. He re sides with his parents in the city or rather with one parent, he hasn't any father." " So Uncle John isn't going to live with you," said Aunt Ann in dismay, half reaching out for her basket, as though minded to fly without further parley from the responsible position in which she saw herself placed. " Why, what is the matter ? You look blank. You hadn't set your heart on Uncle John, had you?" " You are with him all day, you say ? " questioned Aunt Ann sternly. "Of course, off and on," returned Ray, mystified. "What in the world is the matter? " " The matter is that I won't have the responsibility of you, Ray Ingalls. I'll feed you, and that's all I'll do." Ray burst into a laugh so hearty that the basket lid upheaved dangerously in Kits' desire to know what was going on. Aunt Ann repressed it with many a soothing word. " It's a bargain," said the young man gayly. " Now, don't forget. You are to ignore everything about me but my appetite. I see you remember me as fondly as I could have wished. We are nearly there," he added, in a more serious tone. "I'm really afraid you will be a little bit homesick at first, but you mustn't give way to it. You will get used to no front yard, and all that, after a little. You see we had to take a house in a block, and in a very unpretending street, to make it KITS' TRAVELS. 35 agree with the finances of all concerned ; but the horse- cars run by the door, and it is convenient to business, and there are bedrooms enough, which was the great thing." " How long have you been in ? " " Only three days, but that has been long enough, taking our meals at restaurants. I tell you, Aunt Ann, if you want to see four men of assorted sizes and ages on their knees to you this evening, you have only to make a c\\p of your coffee for them. Here we are," as the carriage drew up to the curbstone " Let me take ; 1 '11 treat him like glassware." CHAPTER V. AUNT ANN'S SHOPPING. No wonder Aunt Ann slept but pooily the first night in her new surroundings, although neither home- sickness nor dissatisfaction had any part in her restless- ness. Ray's prophecy as to the effect on her family of the new housekeeper's coffee proved scarcely an exaggeration. Mr. Herring's sour visage unpuckered under the aromatic influence as, at Aunt Ann's suggestion, the gentlemen sat about their dining-table the last thing before going to bed. Mr. Wiley's placid countenance became still blander in expression as he sipped, and Sharp, a young man very tall and rather slender, ex- claimed as he finished his cup and Aunt Ann left the room, ** That is a woman that I could love." Ray meanwhile drank his coffee with an air which said plainer than any words, " I told you so." " Baby, you're a brick," cried Mr. Sharp, wringing Ray's hand with cumulative delight. "You deserve well of your country, and you shall have a new rattle to-morrow." 86 AUNT ANN'S SHOPPING. 37 "Yes," added Mr. Wiley with :i pleased smile, "our youngest has not deceived us. I feel convinced that he has kept his word nobly." But in spite of the many kind words showered upon her, and the benevolent glow of satisfaction that warmed her kind breast at the prospect of making her fellow-beings comfortable, Aunt Ann did not sleep well that first night. She missed her own familiar bed, the horse-cars thundered and jingled upon her un- sophisticated ear. The night seemed to her scarcely begun before morning was heralded by the myriad noises of the city streets ; and when, very early, a faint scratch was heard on her door, she answered the call with alacrity. " Come right in, Kits, and mew as loud as ever you've a mind to," she said. " I should like to hear a familiar sound. I suppose you haven't slept a wink either. Why, what ails you, poor thing? has the jour- ney and trying to sleep in Babel upset your poor wits? I shouldn't wonder." For Kits was running to his mistress and then back to the door, repeating the movement again and again in great excitement. Ann' Ann put on her spectacles finally, and followed her pt to the threshold, where she suddenly jumped back, ut tering a wild shriek, and then paused, appalled at ho own indiscretion. Ray, whose room happened to be next, thrust hi head out into the hall. " Aunt Ann, Aunt Ann, what is it?" " Oh, Ray, do excuse me. I hope all the gentlemen 38 NEXT DOOR. will excuse me ; but Kits has caught the most tremen- jious rat, and he's brought it right to my door." 44 Good for Kits. Let it stay there, Aunt Ann. I'll see to it later," and the speaker drew his head in, and silence reigned again within the house. Aunt Ann shook her finger at her favorite as she noiselessly closed the door. "Kits Eaton," she said, softly but sternly, " the nex-t time you bring one of them dirty critters to me I'll see to you with a switch." Kits winked his golden eyes slowly, licked his chops, and waved his tail in long sweeps, looking like the graceful little tiger that he was. He mewed restlessly at the door, unwilling to be separated so soon from his prey, and Aunt Ann looked at the open-faced silver watch which had been her father's. 44 Well, the days are short. It is high time I was down stairs," she observed, with satisfaction. " I won- der if Rosalie is up yet." Rosalie was the laundress, waitress, and chambermaid, whom Aunt Ann had advised Ray to engage before her arrival. She would do all the cooking herself. The procession that was made down stairs by Aunt Ann, Kits, and the rat, would have convulsed Ray if he had been a witness to it. Most willingly would Aunt Ann have embraced Ray's offer to attend later to Kits' trophy, but Kits himself proudly picked ii[> his prey, over which Aunt Ann had stepped gingerly, and followed her. She turned at the head of the stair- case, and beheld him with disgust and dismay, even tapping him on the head, in the hope of making him AUNT ANN'S SHOPPING. 39 drop his burden ; but as she feared disturbing her fam- ily by making a sound, and as Kits paid no attention to pantomime, she was fain to proceed down backward, the cat dropping lightly from stair to stair, following her slow movements, and she quite as anxious now that he should not let go his hold as she had wished him before to do so. With sundry encouraging pats and murmurs the descent was finally accomplished, and Aunt Ann noiselessly opened the front door, out of which the cat sprang daintily, depositing the rat on the upper step. Aunt Ann threatened and coaxed in vain ; Kits would do no more. " Very well," she said at last, her cheeks red from the conflict, "you disgrace us the very first morning we are here ; I have no more to say to you, sir." But Aunt Ann's family did not agree with her. When they came down to breakfast, one and all remarked admiringly upon Kits' prowess, and pro- fessed delight at the fact of having such a valuable animal in the house. Perhaps the perfection of Aunt Ann's rolls, the delicate brown of the potatoes, and the absence of scorched spots on the beefsteak, added lustre to the attractions of the housekeeper's favorite. However, whether the comments were sincere or no, ihej" pleased Kits' mistress, who was a comfortable fig- ure at the head of the table, in her clean calico dress, and the black satin bow which, between the hours of half-past six and twelve, always concealed Aunt Ann's bald spot, a very small bald spot, from a prying world. Kits slumbered as peacefully beside the air-tight stove 40 NEXT DOOR. as he ever had done before the open fire at home ; all the faces about the table beamed contentedly in unac- customed comfort, and Rosalie, a hard-featured maiden of uncertain age, waited deftly, if severely. Rosalie disapproved of everything on principle, but Rosalie was not blind to her own interests; and in one or two light skirmishes in the kitchen, this morning, she had discovered that it would not be best for her to disaj>- prove too strongly of cats. The discovery had not sweetened her disposition, but nobody took any notice of her. Aunt Ann was cheerfulness itself, and pressed the good things of life upon the gentlemen with the most natural hospitality. It was easy to see that they were charmed with her, and, after the others had gone to business, Ray lingered behind to tell her so. "They're all broken up," he declared, ingenuously. "Now, which shall it be, Herring or Wiley? I don't think Herring is the elder, although he has that dried- O ' O up, brittle appearance ; buf, I forgot, it is Uncle John that you want to see. I'll get him to come around." " Yes," said Aunt Ann, placidly, " I should be happy to see him ; but we won't trouble to send for him until you make me anxious, Ray. If you should do any- thing to make me anxious, I should want to see him right off." "What do you expect I am going to do?" said the boy, laughing, and lifting the points of his tiny mus* tache. "Oh, by the way, what about those nieces you mentioned in your letter ? " Aunt Ann shook her head, and smiled. " I don't AUNT ANN'S SHOPPING. 41 know what quiry. 62 NEXT BOOK. "He's the young man ; and a clever kind of a fellow, I think, so fond of Kits," replied Aunt Ann, compl* cently. Margery stood at the door and gazed about the room. Evidently Mr. Sharp was a wheel-man. Seve- ral photographs of bicyclers, single and in groups, adorned the walls. "That little room at the other end of the hall is Rosalie's, and this next is Ray's. You see it is the mate to yours." " He is the boy," said Margery. "Yes, he is the boy," replied Aunt Ann, with a heavy sigh, as she opened the door and revealed the interior of the room. It was handsomely furnished in a light, sunshiny fashion, with dozens of knick-knacks about, made by feminine hands. A dainty smoking, jacket hung over tne back of a chair, and a rack full of photographs on a table attracted Margery's atten- tion. " I wouldn't mind looking at them if I were you, Margery," said Aunt Ann, in sudden trepidation. " I've been turning over in my mind to-day whether I ought not to mention those pictures to Uncle Joha I suppose they're actors or something like that, and there's his mother's likeness right on the same table with them." But Margery scarcely heard these words. Certainly ehe did not heed them. She had recognized one of the photographed faces. Her countenance brightened as she took it from its place. A VISIT OF CEREMONY. 63 *' This is Mr. Exton ! " she exclaimed, gazing into the steady eyes. " How strange to find his picture here." Aunt Ann adjusted her spectacles and looked curi ously over Margery's shoulder. " Who is it ? One of your friends ? He's a hand- some man, but he looks awful set." " I am slightly acquainted with him. He goes to Kate's church. In fact, he is one of the committee on music that decided her fate and gave her the position." " He looks young to have the say of anything to do with the church." " He is not young. He must be over thirty," said Margery innocently. Aunt Ann laughed. " That's young enough to be my son." " Well, the real reason is that he is rich and influen' tial. He is perfectly lovely, Aunt Ann. Oh, I wish i could have this picture." " Well, if Ray is anything like what he was three years ago, you might have anything of his for the ask- ing." "It would be such fun to mystify Kate with it, w said Margery, laying down the photograph with a sifjh. " You didn't know I was a lovelorn maid, did you 9" " Bless my heart !" and Aunt Ann turned her specta- cles upon the speaker, in dismay. *' Really, and that is the man," indicating the pio ture dramatically. 54 NEXT DOOR. a In love with him? You, Margery?" " Yes, indeed. In love with his smile and his money. Do you think I will ever get them?" Aunt Ann passed her arm around the girl as she turned away, in doubt whether to regard her conti- dence seriously. " You will if he has good taste," sne said kindly; "but I wouldn't trust men, Margery." " I do not have the opportunity," returned the gin, nai'vely. " Kate has a private and particular glare for any roan who happens to turn his head my way. I must go home now and begin some sewing, in order to appear a pattern of domestic loveliness when she gets back. Oh, won't I have my revenge on her! I will play with her as Kits would with a mouse." "My dear, I think you had better tell her," said Aunt Ann persuasively. " I don't approve of decep- tion." "Then what do you think of her wanting to keep me in the dark about your being here ? " " Why " hesitated Aunt Ann, clearing her throat, " I think her motives were of the best kind." Margery laughed. " So are mine ; irreproachable, Now show me something else." 'There is nothing left but my room," and Aunt Ann ushered her guest into the front chamber. " You see .hey provided for me very kindly." " Ye-es," assented Margery, looking about critically; "The night I arrived, Ray had a vase of roses o* Ithe bureau.'* A VISIT OF CEREMONY. 65 " Why, your Ray is a clever little fellow," replied the girl approvingly. " Yes, he's kind-hearted, very kind-hearted." " Your room looks too bare. We must fix it up a little. I can give y.m a photograph of myself as a sort of nucleus for a collection if you like." " I should like one, of all things." " Kate and I both had them taken last summer, for the schoolgirls, and we have two left. I will run in and get them now." " Well, if it would not be too much trouble," said Aunt Ann, her countenance beaming. Margery ran lightly down stairs, and out. When she returned Aunt Ann was at the street door to meet her. Despite the brevity of her niece's absence, she had had time to throw off the cheer of her influence, and to think again of Kate. Her manner and smile were constrained as she thanked Margery. " Won't you come in again?" she asked. The girl detected the uneasiness in her tone, and laughed merrily. " Kate succeeded in awing you pretty completely, didn't she? No, thank you, I will not come in again now. Do not worry at all, Aunt Ann. You know it is only your family that Kate is shy of, and they are away all day, are they not?" " They certainly are," replied Aunt Ann, in tones of self-justification. " I can't see, Margery, why you shouldn't go to the village I mean down town with me to-morrow morning, to get that fancy-work DO NEXT DOOR. material, and then come home to lunch here, and, ol course, have Kate come in too. How could she object?" "Kate is not at home to lunch to-morrow. She teaches in the Highlands, and lunches there too ; but I will come." "Very well," and Aunt Ann nodded smilingly. ** Talk it over with Kate. I think she will let you." Margery kissed her hand without replying, and departed. Aunt Ann closed the door, and examined the pictures she held, uttering many an incoherent expression of admiration. "If you can find me a handsomer pair of girls than tnat, I'd like to know it," she murmured, entering the parlor, and placing the photographs on the bare man- tel-piece. " I wish Emma could see them," she added, fondly. The cat rubbed against her. "Kits, it's time the potatoes were on. You're always willing to get by the kitchen fire. Come, let's go down." CHAPTER VIII. THE GIRLS* PHOTOGRAPHS. As a matter of course, Aunt Ann's first dinner wag a success. It really was a marvel in how cool, and unruffled, and neat a condition she could come straight from the work of preparing it, and seat herself at the head of the table. No wonder those four erstwhile homeless men cast appreciative glances at her and at each other as they consumed the excellent meal. " I trust your first day in Boston has passed pleas- antly, Miss Eaton," observed Mr. Wiley, in his smooth, quiet tones. " It has been a wonderful day," she replied, briskly. " We want to hear all about it, Aunt Ann," said Ray, who was in a high state of satisfaction. " Does Miss Eaton add the ability of the raconteuse to her manifold accomplishments? " asked Mr. Sharp. Ray chuckled. " Here, Aunt Ann, Ted wants tha biggest orange in the dish for that." OO O "Don't be impudent, Baby," retorted Mr. Sharp, "Do favor its, Miss Eaton." "What'll you have, sir?' inquired Aunt Ann, puv ting out a helping hand, vaguely. 67 68 NEXT DOOR. " He only wants to hear an account of your day," explained Ray. "Did you see your nieces? Miss Eaton has some nieces in the city." " Yes, I saw them," replied Aunt Ann, with dignity, making up her mind to be exceedingly reserved on what she had discovered to be so delicate a subject. " When are they going to visit you ? " pursued Ray. "We are all hospitably inclined, aren't we? We should all be delighted if Miss Eaton would feel at liberty to entertain her relatives here at any time. Eighteen and twenty-one," he added, sotto voce, to Mr. Sharp, who sat next him. The latter assented effusively. Mr. Wiley bowed and smiled blandly, and said, "Most certainly." Mr, Herring grunted what might be taken for an assent. " Invite them to dinner, Aunt Ann. The younger one can sit between you and me, and the elder between you and Mr. Wiley." " Get out ! " ejaculated Mr. Sharp, with more haste than courtesy. " Where do I come in ? " " Oh, you can look at them, Teddy, my boy," replied Ray, patronizingly. " When shall it be, Aunt Ann ? " " Never, I am afraid," said Aunt Ann, firmly. " They don't seem to have much idea of visiting." "Oh, that won't do," burst forth Ray. "We rely upon you to pursuade them, and you must not disap- point us." " It disappoints me, you may be certain," returned Aunt Ann, feeling pleasantly important. "All th* toore because I find them well, all I could wish them THE GIRLS' PHOTOGRAPHS. 69 to be. I got their pictures," she continued, tempted beyond her strength to tantalize her family by allow- ing them to see what they missed. " Rosalie, you may go up on the parlor mantel-piece, and bring me the pho- tographs that are there." Rosalie obeyed as one who says, "I go, but of mine own accord ! " "There they are," continued Aunt Ann, com- placently, taking the pictures from her handmaiden, and giving Margery's to Ray, on her left, and Kate's to Mr. Wiley, on her right. Could Kate, calmly eating her evening meal on the other side of the partition, but see into the neighbor- ing dining-room, the change in her expression would probably be a study. "Whew!" exclaimed Ray and Mr. Sharp, simulta- neously, the latter leaning eagerly over the former's shoulder. "Oh, you know, Aunt Ann, no fellow's going to stand this," exclaimed the younger, knitting his hand- some brows and smiling involuntarily at the face that looked back at him, saucy and bright, a speaking like- ness of Margery's vivacious self. "This this isn't right, you know." Aunt Ann bridled, and smiled, and bit her lips, lis- tening to Mr. Wiley's murmured compliments. The pictures passed about, Ray parting reluctantly w'th his, and receiving Kate's curiously. " Why, I know this face," he exclaimed in surprise. * Who is it ? I know her perfectly well." tc That is Miss Kate Standisii, my oldest niece," said 70 NEXT DOOR. Aunt Ann, proudly. "I am sure you don't know her, for she don't know you, and don't want to," she added under her breath. " Standish. That's it," said Ray, with satisfaction. " It is Miss Standish, the soprano of our church ; and she is your niece, Aunt Ann ? "Well, that is strange. Tell her it is her duty to come. I was never so regu- lar at church in my life as I have been here. She can infer what she pleases." " I'm very glad you are regular at church, Ray," said Aunt Ann, seriously, "although I'm sorry you see it your duty to attend the Episcopal church." " But Miss Standish doesn't sing anywhere else." " Ray ! " Aunt Ann's voice was awful now. " Well, it is my own church, you know," he replied, pacifically. "That's better," said Aunt Ann. "I must tell you all how lucky I was this morning. Mr. Herring, won't you let me put you on a little more potato?" Mr. Herring refused, and she continued, "I went to the store to get some ribbon for Kits." " A wonderful animal," interpolated Mr. Sharp, f er- vently. "Oh, Ted, this is fulsome," ejaculated Ray. "Yes, he is, Mr. Sharp. I don't say it because he's my cat. And there at the counter I saw a young lady and asked her advice about the shade ; then I told her the number and street where my nieces lived, and asked how to get there, and she said that was just where she was going, so we went along toi THE GIRLS' PHOTOGRAPHS. 71 gether, and 'twasn't until we got there that I found out it was Margery" " Who is Margery? " came from all but Mr. Herring. "The one Ray's got," said Aunt Ann, gesturing toward the photograph of which Ray had i'o:ained possession. " You'd think that was enough," she con tinned, with growing vivacity, seeing the interest in the faces of her listeners. " It makes me out so stupid I'd ought to be ashamed to tell it, but it's too good to keep. When I left their house, Kate came out with me. I all of a sudden remembered that I didn't know where on earth I lived. Well, there I stood, just dumb, when, turning around, who should I see in the window of the very next house," and Aunt Ann laughed at the remembrance until her eyes were squeezed tight shut, " but Kits himself ! There I was, home." " Then those charmers live next door," cried Ray. " Who said they did ? " demanded Aunt Ann with sudden and tremendous gravity. " You did, hurrah ! " cried the young fellow, rising from the table and waving the photograph high above his head. "Ray, Ray Ingalls," in extremest trepidation. What where " " I'm going right in there to pay my respects. I'll eay you sent me." " Ray Ingalls, if you stir one step I'll send for your Uncle John. Oh, why can't I never learn to be any- thing but a fool. Ray, and gentlemen, " added 72 NEXT DOOR. Aunt Ann, rising, and changing her tone from lamenta- tion to impressiveness, " I am very sorry for what 1 have just let out. My relation with you is a business one, friendly, too, I hope, but I have no right to drag my nieces into it. I see now it was very wrong in me to parade their pictures around so, and 'twas nothing but pride and foolishness made me do it. My only excuse is that Ray, here, seems like one of my own, and it was him started it." Aunt Ann's listeners rose like one man, even the antiquated Herring being moved by her moist eyes and her earnestness to a chivalrous impulse. Ray took her hand with affectionate respect. "Aunt Ann, I beg your pardon. I am sure I speak for all when I say that you have not, and never shall have, the least cause for regret at having shown us these lovely faces ; and the fact of knowing that they are so near will only serve to make us behave our- selves the better." Here the speaker turned toward the door. "And there, to stamp your scapegrace and his words with respectability, is Uncle John himself." They all turned toward the open door where Mr. Exton stood, very tall and very dignified, an expres- sion of curious interest in his eyes. Aunt Ann tried, in a bewildered way, to remember where she had seen his face ; but the surprise of discovering the staid and respectable Uncle John in this handsome young man overpowered all other ideas. " Welcome to our humble board, Uncle John," said Ray, "Miss Eaton, this is my uncle, Mr. Exton." THE GIRLS' PHOTOGRAPHS. 73 Mr. Exton came forward, and Aunt Ann shook hands with him. She remembered now that it was his pic- ture Margery had found in Ray's room. Her hospi- tality, equal to any occasion, asserted itself. "Of course, you'll sit right down and take your dinner with us, Mr. Exton. You see the table isn't cleared, and there isn't a bit of hurry." The others, who all seemed sincerely pleased with the guest's arrival, joining their petition to hers, Mr. Exton, after some demur, consented Aunt Ann could not help remarking that a new interest ap- peared in the manner of her family, and that each one was eager to add in some way to the new-comer'a comfort. "I did not expect to do this," said the latter, seating himself. " I thought I would look in upon you before I went home, and see how everything was going. Ray has been good enough to furnish me with a latch-key, which enabled me to surprise you." As Aunt Ann listened to his speech, and observed his manner, she began to feel that there might be a possibility of transferring her trust and allegiance from the bald-headed and stout uncle to this one so surprisingly youthful. As she was thinking this, John Exton looked up with his deliberate gravity, and smiled as he met her attentive gaze. " I am very glad you could consent to come to Bos- ton, Miss Eaton." Aunt Ann recalled Margery's words, "I am in love with his smile and his money." 74 NEXT DOOR. "Excuse me," she said, bustling about among the dishes nervously, " what did you. say?" "You are going to make these forlorn ones very comfortable." As Mr. Exton spoke, he trifled absently with the photographs which lay near him. " Ah ! " he exclaimed, concentrating his attention upon that of Kate, "that is a surprisingly good picture of Miss Stand ish." For a moment no one spoke ; then Ray cleared his throat. "Yes. It transpires that Miss Standisli is Miss Eaton's niece." "Indeed ! " looking up at Aunt Ann with a new in- terest. " Your niece is very talented." Aunt Ann bowed her thanks. " I haven't heard her sing yet myself," she replied. Mr. Exton took up the other photograph. His face broke into an amused smile, which he instantly re- pressed. " This is her sister," he said. " Do you know her ? " asked Ray, with great interest. "I met her once," replied Mr. Exton, and changed the subject. The guest remained for some hours into the evening. After dinner all repaired to the parlor, whose comfort- Jess aspect struck one and all alike. " Can't the Prairie Flower be induced to build us a grate fire?" asked Ray. " We can have a fire just as well as not," replied Aunt Ann, " only I didn't know as you meant to us the parlor much." THE GIRLS PHOTOGRAPHS. 75 " We did or we didn't, just as we happened to feel, Baid Mr. Herring, gruffly. "This is Liberty HalL That was the understanding." " Then we will have a fire," said Aunt Ann. Ray ran up to his room to exchange his coat for his smoking-jacket. When he came down, fifteen minutes later, looking very dandified and handsome in the vel- vet, satin-faced coat, he was smiling, and tucking some- thing into an inside pocket. Mr. Wiley had thrown open the doors into his room ; fires were crackling in both grates. There was a lamp burning on the centre- table, and beside it sat Aunt Ann, reading the evening paper with which Mr. Sharp had provided her. That gentleman was listening to a conversation between Mr. Wiley and Mr. Exton ; and Mr. Herring, with his hands behind him, was wandering up and down the room. Kay rested a hand on Aunt Ann's chair-back, and she looked up at his brilliant brown eyes and the even row of white teeth which he was displaying " Which of them was here to-day?" he asked softly, " If you think you will get any more out of me, you scamp, you are mistaken," and Aunt Ann's lips shut firmly together as she feigned to resume her reading. "Did she like the plan of the house?" Aunt Ann started, but read harder than ever. " And did she think Uncle John's picture did him justice?" The victim looked up this time, really distressed. w It was my fault, Ray, not the least bit Margery's, 1 showed her over the house." ^8 NEXT DOOR. "I'm glad it was Margery," be observed, with a sigh of relief. " I am complimented that there was anything in my room worthy of her attention." Here he drew forth from his pocket a little brown glove, worn and carefully mended, and let Aunt Ann glance at it before returning it to its hiding-place. " It was on the floor by my table," he explained. " Well, I will return it to her," said Aunt Ann, holding out her hand, with some asperity of manner. "Yes; you will when you get it," he replied, calmly. "Is this keeping the promise you made at the dinner- table?" asked Aunt Ann, reproachfully. "Certainly; this is only proving the extent of my respectful admiration. Oh, I will keep my word, Aunt Ann, and you can't blame me for thinking she's awfully pretty." "No," said Aunt Ann, reflectively, "I can't; but that has nothing to do with her glove." "The glove has had something to do with her; therefore, so long as you cruelly refuse to let me see her, I shall not be foolish enough to give up the little I have." Aunt Ann looked around to where Mr. Exton stood, gravely listening to Mr. Wiley's low-spoken remarks on some business topic. His eyes rested absently on his nephew while he nodded assent to his companion's views. "There's your uncle right there," she threatened *I can speak to him if I like." "Certainly; go right up to him and say, * Can't THE GIRLS' PHOTOGEAPHS. 77 Ray give back Margery's glove?' " suggested tne other, mockingly. " He doesn't look as though he would have any sym- pathy with such foolishness," said Aunt Ann. "Well, why don't you ask him if he would give up a souvenir of a pretty girl if he once had possession of it?" " Look here, Ray," and Aunt Ann lifted her head suddenly and fixed him with her spectacles, " I won't have any calf-love!" " No," replied the young fellow, with a mischievous smile ; " it is a little late for you to be afflicted that way." Aunt Ann's lips twitched, but she repressed the smile, gave a heavy sigh, and returned to her news- paper. Ray persistently held his position by her chair. * Couldn't you sort of praise me up to her, Aunt Ann?" he asked, after a pause. "Rouse her curiosity, as it were ? " " If you care for anybody's good opinion, you had better beg me not to talk to them about you," was the short reply; "and now let me alone. I want to get calmed down before bedtime. I've made a botch of my first day in Boston, and I think if I can get a good pleep to-night I may do better to-morrow." CHAPTER IX. A COUP D'ETAT. WHEN Margery called the next morning to accom pany Aunt Ann on her shopping expedition, the phcn tographs of herself and Kate were standing, one on each side of their aunt's looking-glass, in her room. "And I'm very glad that pictures tell no tales," thought Aunt Ann, as she put on her outside garments, Margery meanwhile sitting by. " We had a guest to dinner last night," remarked Aunt Ann, with an important, smiling nod. " Some one I know ? " "Yes." "Not Mr. Exton?" "Yes, Mr. Exton; and, Margery, if you will believe it, he is Ray Ingalls' uncle. I think I never was more taken back." " Mr. Exton here ! " exclaimed Margery. " I think if I had known it I should have been peering in at the windows. Ray Ingalls is a fortunate boy to have such a relative." Then, with a change of manner, "Oh, Aunt Ann, did you see anything of an old brown 78 A COUP D'ETAT. 79 glove after I left here yesterday ? I dropped it either here or on the way home." Aunt Ann was stooping down, adjusting her over- shoes. " I didn't find it," she replied, in a smothered voice. ''I'm sorry you lost it." ' So am I," replied Margery, holding oat her hands, encased in handsome black kids; "for now I shall have to wear my best ones all the time. Our glove? and shoes Kate always buys of the best, and they cost i* good deal ; but I will not have another pair until she does, no matter how long it is." Aunt Ann listened with interest. " You shall just have your glove back, then," she replied, indignantly. "Then you know where it is," said Margery, sur- prised. " Yes no " stammered Aunt Ann, " Go 'way, Kits, you're always around when you ain't wanted," for the cat had jumped up on the bed beside her, and was pushing his head under her arm. Kits laid his ears back, closed his eyes, and winced under the unceremonious slap she gave him. "I . I it may be around the floor somewhere, now. I'll look. You know we were all over the house yester- day." " If anybody found it he must have thought it was yours," said Margery, hopefully. Aunt Ann spread out her own number seven hand and laughed uneasily. Margery looked at her inquiringly. She pe* 80 NEXT DOOR. ceived that here was something which Aunt Ann hesitated to explain, and her curiosity was aroused. "I'll hunt a little for it," said Aunt Ann, "if you'll sit right where you are. Don't you disturb yourself." Margery, made more curious hy her fidgety man- ner, obediently sat still, twirling the curtain tassel ; but her hearing was sharpened, and she distinctly heard Ray's door open, then all was still. In a short time Aunt Ann returned, quite flushed in the face, and holding up the little glove in triumph. "There it is, my dear. I always was a master hand for finding anything that was lost." " Thank you. Where was it ? " "In the back room, there," replied Aunt Ann, in. differently. " Oh ! " said Margery, and became thoughtful for a minute. Her aunt went into the closet for her bonnet. When she re-appeared, Margery spoke again. " How old is Ray Ingalls?" "Ray? He's let me see Ray will be twenty- two if he lives till next summer, and he ain't so per- fect that I'm afraid of his dying young." " I thought he was younger," was Margery's com- ment. She looked at the brown glove askance. The limp and homely little article had acquired signifi- cance. She burned with curiosity to know its truant history ; but she would not ask. Tucking it into hei pocket, she arose. "Come, Aunt Ann, you must be ready." A COUP D'fiTAT. 81; <: Yes, I am at! last. Just wait until I let Kits into, the dining-room. Hs likes to lay in the sun there." A couple of hours later the two were returning, having successfully accomplished their errands. They had their packages with them, for Aunt Ann was im- patient to have Margery begin the table-scarf she had promised. " And now you are coming to dinner I mean to lunch, with me ? " asked the former, as they left the horse-car. " I hope Kate agreed to it." " I did not ask her." "Why not?" "Because I wanted to come," replied Margery, with a laugh. " But you told her about yesterday ? " " No, indeed." "But, Margery! This underhanded way of doing things isn't the way I like." " How odd ! My conscience does not sting, nor whisper, nor do any of the things a bad conscience does," observed the girl, running up her aunt's steps. " Do not refuse me a little change of bread and butter. I do not believe you ever lived in a boarding- house for a whole year or you would not be so heartless." " My dear child ! " protested Aunt Ann, opening the door, " Well," she continued, musingly, " I only made Kate two promises, and I have not broken eithei of them, only you must surely tell her to-night." "Very likely I will," replied Margery, carelessly. 82 NEXT DOOR. " These are her busiest days in the whole week, aud we have not talked much. To-night she will come home very tired ; but to-morrow morning we shall spend together, and then I will break it to her gently that I have positively called once upon, and lunched once with, our mother's dear sister,''' and the speaker gave Aunt Ann a hug, which the other returned with interest. " Let us go into the parlor and see how this satine is for width, first," suggested Margery, and she un- folded the largest package, and spread the fabric over the table; then flinging the embroidery silks upon it, the two fell back with heads on the side and surveyed the combination of color. "It's going to be perfection, Margery," announced Aunt Ann, admiringly. As she spoke, the front door opened and closed ; but she was so absorbed as not to notice it. Only Margery looked up and saw some one standing in the parlor doorway. It was a very stylish and good-looking young man, who held his hat in his hand, and met her surprised glance with interesf His short black hair waved a little above his forehead. His complexion was clear; his whole appearance hearty and attractive, notwithstanding an evident extreme attention to the latest fashion, a weakness common to youth, and one which a girl like Margery is prone to pardon if not endorse. It was a long moment during which they gazed into one another's eyes, then the stranger came in and Aunt Ann looked up. At first phe stood mute with surprise, then : " Ray Ingalls ! " she exclaimed, curtly. " What art A COUP D'fiTAT. 83 you doing here this time of day? When is a body safe from you any way ! " Ray looked at Margery, who coul.T not help smiling, and his pride was touched. " You are very hearty in your welcome at any rate," he remarked, advancing and picking up the handkerchief Margery dropped. "Here, Ray, here," said Aunt Ann desperately, moving little by little toward the door, and beckoning to him. " Come out of the room. I want to tell you something." " Thank you," said Margery demurely, accepting the handkerchief. How glad she was that she had oa those beautiful black gloves ! Aunt Ann stood still and bit her lip in annoyance. She saw Kate's compelling face and brilliant smile, af she stood before her exacting the promise which it seemed her destiny to break. "Margery, you must excuse my seeming inhospt tality, dear child, but won't you please go home." Ray flushed as suddenly and violently as Margery; but while the former darted lightning glances at Aunt Ann, the latter demurely started to obey. Aunt Ann caught both her hands and pressed them. " I promised Kate I would not introduce any of them." ehe murmured apologetically. Ray caught the words, and his wrath became dashed with amusement. Moreover, Margery here sent him a glance from under her pretty lashes, which was, at (east, encouraging. M NEXT DOOR. " Miss Standish and I do not need any introduction,* ie said, boldly, with his best bow. " I recognized her at once ; and of course she must have heard of the black sheep of the new household." Margery smiled. She did not wish to go, and she hesitated to see if Aunt Ann would show signs of yielding. But no. "Go, Margery; go, dear," she urged. " Wait," cried Ray ; " there is no necessity for such strenuous measures. I only came home to get some- thing I had forgotten. I am going right upstairs," and, with a bow of leavetaking, he strode from the room. "There, that is good," said Aunt Ann, in a tone of relief, hastening to unbutton her niece's jacket, and to show by her bustling attentions the sincerity of her .pleasure at this turn of events. "I have no patience with Kate," saia Margery, pouting, " for making things so awkward for people." " No, dear, never mind," said Aunt Ann, coaxingly. " It's only Ray, you know, and it might have been one of the older gentlemen, Mr. Herring or Mr. Wiley." This consideration did not seem to convey much consolation to Margery, who continued to look mucb vexed as she followed her aunt down stairs. They had not been long seated at lunch when they heard a light step running down the upper flight. , ."^ There's Ray going," observed Aunt Ann, com. placently. " We're well rid of him at any rate. Com A COUP D'ETAT. 85 Here, poor Kits ; did I give him a bad, wicked nudge this morning? Well, it's a shame, and I'll give you '' What dainty Aunt Ann intended to name never transpired ; for at that point she heard a sound that filled her with dismay. It was the same springy step, only now descending the basement stairs. She looked wildly from Margery to the door and back again. Ray entered sans overcoat and hat, looking very serious. Margery in propria persona he found even more charming than her picture ; and he was too accus- tomed to carry his point, easily to give up such a golden opportunity as the present. He had not spent a summer with Aunt Ann without discerning her vul- nerable points, and he entered the dining-room now with his scheme well laid. The hostess rose and pushed her chair back from the table. "Don't rise, Aunt Ann," he said, putting out his band, calmly; "the fact is, I am not feeling quite right to-day." "Not well, Ray?" exclaimed Aunt Ann, anxiously, etiquette and Kate and Margery forgotten. "It is not much. Do not be alarmed. But you remember the slight affection of my left lung?" "Yes indeed. The very thing that made your mother bring you to the farm." " Exactly," assented Ray, gravely. " I had a curious sensation in my left side this morning," here a quick glance at Margery, whose sulks had suddenly evapo tated, ''and I thought it would be well for me to B6 NEXT DOOR. wait an hour or two before returning to business ; that is, if it will not inconvenience you too much, Aunt Ann," he added, meekly. " I know you did not con- tract to furnish us witli lunches." "Don't speak of such a thing, my dear boy," said the kind woman, fervently, calling Rosalie, and setting an extra plate, and drawing up a chair, and pouring out a cup of tea, apparently at one and the same time. " I do not drink tea, you know," he protested. "Not usually, I know," said Aunt Ann, firmly ; " but you will to-day, for it is very sustaining. What doctor does your uncle have?" "I do not think he ever had one," replied Ray, settling himself in extraordinary comfort, and smiling furtively at Margery, who he at once perceived saw through his little manoeuvre and was not offended. "Well, we must not let this run on. You know, Margery," appealing to her niece, " how important it is to take things in time." " Oh, very," assented Margery. "How do you feel now, Ray? Stop a irunute and think. Any of that sharp pain?" Ray frowned slightly, cast his fine eyes up at the ceiling, and pondered. "No," he finally replied ; then placing a hand on his heart and meeting Aunt Ann's gaze, "nothing but an unusual heat here." Margery colored violently, and stifled a laugh ; bul Aunt Ann nodded many times. "Exactly, Ray, exactly. That's inflammation, yof A COUP D'fiTAT. 87 trow. Now you must be very quiet, my dear, and not talk much." " Aunt Ann is very strict, you see," said Margery. " It seems strange to me to hear you call her aunt, Mr. Ingalls." "It makes us cousins, does it not?" asked Ray, eagerly. Aunt Ann laughed complacently. "You will have more cousins than an Irish girl, Margery, if you adopt everybody that calls me aunt." "I should want to make my own choice," said Margery. "Put me in your select assortment, will you not?" begged Ray. "You may consider yourself on trial," she replied. " I hear you ai - e a nephew of Mr. Exton's." "Yes. Do you know him? Oh, I remember he said he had met you once." "Yes," said Margery, laughing; "I think he will remember it." " Naturally," remarked Ray, gallantly. " Aunt Ann, your nephew is very polite," said the girl, mischievously. "Ray? Oh, yes, Ray knows how to behave when he wants to," replied Aunt Ann. approvingly. The young people exchanged a sympathetic look and smile, Ray becoming with each moment more and oiore the slave of Margery's vivacious charms. "Tell me what made the meeting so memorable f floes thereby hang a tale?" 88 NEXT DOOR. " Yes, indeed, as long as a train of cars ; but I will not tell it. It is too ridiculous. I do not know you \vell enough." "Oh, do. If Uncle John w?s ever in a ridiculous situation I want to hear about it. I can't imagine it. You know he is one of these fellows that never is ridiculous." "Of course he never could be," said Margery, warmly. " The situation was ridiculous, but he dignified it as much as anybody could. He was perfectly lovely." " Oh, he was ! " said Ray, not relishing this sweep- ing praise of his kinsman, a state of mind which Mar- gery perceived with the quickness of her sex. Her unconscious purpose now was to charm Ray, not to tease him; so she immediately took measures to banish the cloud from his brow. The first measure was a flat- tering glance, hitherto untried, which nature taught her on the spur of the moment, and whose effect was all she could wish. "You must not mind my not telling you about it until until we are better acquainted, will you?" " No, on condition that we become better acquainted very fast indeed," he returned. " How curious men are ! " observed Margery, mus- ingly- " Don't you think you are talking too much, Ray?" asked Aunt Ann. "No wonder you would like to strike me dumb," returned Ray, with a significant nod in her direction " How long since you turned burglaress, Aunt Ann ? " A COUP D'ETAT. 89 "Turned what?" Ray met her gaze with an accusing look. "Just now, upstairs, I found that one of my gloves had dis- appeared." Aunt Ann stared at him for a moment; then his meaning dawned upon her. "Yes, you did," she returned, decidedly, "and, what is more, it has disappeared for good " ; and hereupon she frowned warningly at him, and shook her head. "Miss Standish, may I tell you a romantic story with a sad ending?" pursued Ray, daringly. " Make the ending happy, please." "I cannot do that. Perhaps somebody else can. Listen. Yesterday I found a glove. It was a small glove, and very attractive. Aunt Ann, the evil genius of the story, refused to tell me about its owner. J then secreted it, intending at some near day to sec forth, like the prince in Cinderella, and find the hand that it fitted. Now the evil genius has made off with the glove, and well, that is all. No wonder the shock of the loss was sufficient to induce heart dis- ease I mean lung trouble." "Poor prince!" said Margery, with a dancing light in her blue eyes. " But doesn't somebody say some- where that all things come to him who knows how to wait for them?" Ray, glowing with pleasure, looked quickly down at ihe hand next him. Its contour and color did not dis- appoint him. Aunt Ann viewed the couple complacently. She 90 NEXT BOOK. had a vague idea that Ray had smoothed over tha affair of the glove very gracefully. " I don't think you feel very badly now," she said to him, with kind concern, " although you haven't eaten enough for a bird." "What kind of a bird an ostrich?" asked Ray, laughingly. "Oh, no, I do not feel badly; but this inflammation," touching his side, "is not allayed." "How long does it usually last?" asked Aunt Ann, looking anxiously at him over her spectacles. " Usually about a week ; but I think this is different. I feel," he added audaciously, " as though it were about to become chronic." " What a terrible flirt," thought Margery, smiling into her cup of tea as though she saw something very amusing there. "Oh, don't say that, dear. Nobody at your age ought to be discouraged about their health. Does lung trouble run in your family?" " Yes, indeed," returned Ray, recklessly. "There has never been a man in my father's family that didn't have a lobe in his left lung." "You don't say so!" ejaculated Aunt Ann, set- ting down her teacup. " Margery, how can you laugh. You must excuse her, Ray. She's too young and flighty to know anything about real trouble. Doei your uncle John know that?" < ; Yes." ** And does he think it's safe for you to be in busi ttess all the same ? " A COUP D'fcTAT. 91 " He has no appearance of worrying about me. You know, Aunt Ann, we are a long-lived family in spite of it. I am a little sensitive on the subject, so pleas-3 don't mention it to any one." The hostess fixed her kind eyes upon him in a look of sympathy, which should have burned his brazen young face. " To change the subject, Aunt Ann," he continued, " you know this young lady better than I do. How ought I to ask her to allow me to come in with you Borne evening and call upon her?" " That is perfectly impossible," responded Aunt Ann, decidedly ; " so don't ask it, Kay." The latter glanced at Margery. " Even if I behave BO well as to enter the list of cousins?" " I have a stern sister," explained Margery. " I do not receive calls." " Ah, you are not out yet?" " As far as I ever shall be, I fear." " Then I will call upon your sister," suggested Ray, delighted with his bright thought. " Even more impossible," said Margery, shaking her head. " Aunt Ann, fancy Kate if Mr. Ingalls were to call her cousin ! " Aunt Ann shuddered. Her ease and complacency deserted her. She fidgeted in her chair. Poor Aunt A.nn! She felt miserably beset. " Ray," she said shortly, " do you feel able to go back to business this afternoon?" " Oh, yes," following Aunt Ann's example and push* 92 NEXT DOOE. ing his chair back from the table. " I feel like a rior refreshed." " Then I think you had better go at once." " Well, that is right to the point. When," looking at Aunt Ann appealingly, " shall we three meet again ? " " Not until Kate Standish kno\vs it, and sanctions it,"' returned Aunt Ann, speaking more sonorously than mortal had ever heard her speak before. Margery looked at Ray with a comical but flatter- ing little sie friends, to give a reason for it?" "No," returned Kate. "You can have met my sis- ter but very few times. I do not think she owes you anything. However, I will see if she is willing to see you," and she rose. 112 NEXT DOOR. The young fellow's unhappy face softened her. "Good evening, Mr. Ingalls," she added, holding out her hand. "I pardon the liberty you have taken, so I hope you will not refuse longer to be seated." Ray shook hands with her gratefully, and, when she had gone, dropped into one of the faded green rtp chairs. Several minutes passed before Margery came down. Evidentlv she had taken time to chancre hef v_y mind again and again, but finally she appeared, hold- ing her head well up, and carrying the pasteboard box in her hands. Ray rose eagerly at her approach. " Thank you so much for coming," he said, almost before she had en- tered the room. " You cannot wonder that I came for an answer to my note." "Thank you for these beautiful flowers," returned Margery, with freezing dignity. "Oh, bother the flowers excuse me, I am de- lighted if you thought them beautiful, or cared any- thing about them; but I want to be forgiven." " Mr. Ingalls, it is hard for me to forgive you," said the girl, seriously. " Here are the flowers. I cannot accept them. I thought you liked me a little and respected me a little when we parted the other day." And she laid the box on the chair beside which her visitor stood. " Like you ? respect you ? " burst forth Ray. " I don't know whether those are the words I should select." Margery shook her head with a little scornful smile M They are not, the words I should select, now." A LITTLE DIFFERENCE. 113 " For pity's sake, explain ! " ejaculated the other. Margery had taken the precaution to close the door, BO that the little conference should be private, and. now she stood erect before him. " You came home at noon to-day because you sus- pected that I was to be there." She blushed very much as she said this, but maintained a firm front. " Yes, I did ; you would not let me call. I wanted to see you very much. I did not think it would offend, you." Ray was also red in the face, also firm. "You were so kind to me before." " Yes ; you were an old acquaintance of my aunt's. I was prepossessed in your favor. Indeed, it would have been difficult to make me believe that you would do what you did to-day bring home a strange man, to stare at me." As Margery said these words, she put into them an indignation and disgust before which Ray fell back in utter dismay. "I do that!" "Did you not? Can you say that Mr. Sharp did not come home at an unusual hour for that very pur- pose ? " " But I did not bring him," gasped Ray. " He could only have thought it worth while to come on your recommendation," continued Margery, piti- lessly. "Very likely you promised him that I was very good fun, or good-looking, or something like that. Whether you brought him or rot, you allowed him to . come, which throws sufficient light on the estimation 114 NEXT DOOR. in which you hold me. Good evening, Mr. Ingalls." And, with a distant bow, Margery stalked from the room, leaving the enemy discomfited and speechless,, standing in the middle of the floor. " Well, dear," said Kate, inquiringly, when her sister returned, "has he gone?" "No," replied Margery, breathing a little faster from the effort of saying to her visitor what she had deter- mined to say. "And you came off and left him?" asked Kate. amazed. "Why, what is all this?" " Well, I will tell you. I did not mean to, but I will." And Margery, seating herself, related the story of her grievances, ending with a report of her recent conversation with Ray. Had Kate heard the facts before she had met the defendant in the case, she would probably have sympathized wholly with Mar- gery, and rejoiced at the spirit in which her sister resented the liberty taken by the young man ; but Kate could picture Ray's dismayed countenance at hearing Margery's charges, and at seeing the implaca- bility with which she swept from the room. In spite of herself she smiled into her sister's shining eyes. "You see it was just one of the positions in which 1 have feared that Aunt Ann's experiment would place us," said Kate ; " and you have done right, only per haps it was a little rude in you to leave our caller to find his own way out. Let him be guilty of all the rudeness. I do not believe from his manner that he realized that he was in fault." A LITTLE DIFFERENCE. 115 " I was terribly cross to him," remarked Margery, virtuously. " Well, you have given our neighbors a salutary les- son, at all events," said Kate; "they will be likely to approach you henceforth with great discretion." "I suppose Mr. Ingalls thinks I am a virago," was the thoughtful response. " Well, you can bear that," laughed Kate. " He is a fine-looking boy. As you say, he appears very well ; but, of course, now you have seen the last of him." Margery looked suddenly dismayed. " Oh, I hardly think that," she said. " He will not recover from this rebuff very soon," said Kate, carelessly. " If you have erred, it was on the safe side, dear. It was very nice of you to feel the indelicacy of their behavior." CHAPTER XII. AN UMBRELLA AND A ROSE. WHEX Margery wakened the following morning, it was with the sensation that something was wrong. There was a cloud over her, and it did not take many minutes for her to define the vague discomfort. She had quarrelled with Aunt Ann's boy ; the first person whose acquaintance had promised to contribute some variety and pleasure to the humdrum life she abhorred. Kate's approval was rare and delightful ; but had it not been darkened by a decided doubt of Margery's dis- cretion? An approving conscience was a tower of strength ; but did hers now proclaim her virtue with quite so loud a flourish of trumpets as on last evening ? The day was dull, and a wet, drizzling snow was falling, under which circumstances Mrs. Brown's back yard looked least inviting. Margery gazed out dole- fully, and as her eyes wandered over the fence into Aunt Ann's neater premises, she wondered whether her ill-used neighbor were possibly also studying the dismal scene. But she had not much time to indulge IE reminiscence and regret. It was one of the morn- lie AN UMBRELLA AND A ttOSE. 117 fngs when Kate had to make an early start, and Margery, as usual, bustled about, getting overshoes, waterproof and umbrella in readiness, and doing all else she could to save her sister's time and strength. She bade Kate good-bye at the street door with many a moan over the weather. "You know I do not mind it," replied the latter, who was in remarkably good spirits. " Good-bye, little partner. You do not know how pleased I am to tind that you have so much self-respect and so good an idea of defending our position in short," added Kate, running down the steps, " that you are so valiant." " But with so little of the better part of valor," remarked Margery, with a dubious air. The door of the next house slammed, and Messrs. Ray Ingalls and Edward Sharp descended to the street. The former carried himself with an air which suggested that Aunt Ann had mingled buckram and ramrods with his breakfast. On previous mornings, from behind the parlor curtains Margery had occasion- ally amused herself with watching the scrutinizing glances which her admirer bestowed upon the house as he set forth for business. But this morning he did not turn his head. Stiffly he took off his hat to Kate, assisted her into a car, and followed with his friend. Margery started back and closed the door, hurrying ttito the parlor for one peep out the window. Her curiosity received no satisfaction. The horse-car inoved on, moist and dingy in the muddy street, and 118 NEXT DOOR. she could get no glimpse of its occupants. What a desolate day! What an ugly, commonplace row of houses was opposite! What an odious, dark room Mrs. Brown's parlor was ! Margery looked around it with a grimace. Ah, there on the chair where she had placed it the night before was the pasteboard box. She lifted the cover, uttering an exclamation. The poor roses lay wilted and forlorn. She looked at them with tears in her eyes for their lost beauty, and, carry- ing them up to her room, clipped off the ends of their stems and placed them in water. While she was thu? occupied, her thoughts reviewed the events of last evening. The color came to her cheeks as she pic- tured Kay standing deserted in the parlor, and finally finding his way alone out of the inhospitable mansion. " What will he think of me," she murmured halt aloud, in a climax of self-disgust. "I could have done it so much better. Now I have been quite as rude as he was. His very back looked angry just now. I will not let it go on so. I will set myself right. He shall not have ground for saying that I am as bad as he is," and Margery, impulsive as usual, sat down with her writing-desk, and penned the following note: MR. INGALLS, I little thought, so soon after criti- cising your offence, to be led to apologize for one of my own; but indeed I am very sorry thut I wus sufficiently cai'ried nway by my feelings last evening to leave you sa abruptly. It was very childish, and I regret it very much ( hope you will excuse me. Yours sincerely, MAHGEKY STANDISH. AN UMBRELLA AND A EOSE. 119 As much relieved by the writing of this missive as though it had already performed its purpose, Margery folded it, sighing deeply, and then addressed herself to the duties of the day. Some time before dinner she meant to get the note to its destination. Indeed, she would like to run in with it immediately, but she conscientiously refrained. " I am getting too vagabondish altogether," she thought, and straightway went about putting her room in order. When this was accomplished, she took out an accumulation of odd jobs, and sat down with the high-piled basket beside the window with its dismal prospect. "No fear of my attention wandering from the subject in hand, at any rate," she thought, with one glance of repugnance at the gradually lessening snow. Working away, an industrious little figure, her lips wore a half smile, while her thoughts ran on in an interesting groove and she occasionally lifted her head to glance at the clump of limp roses, some of whose lovely faces were brightening under her treatment. After a couple of hours of this, she became restless and longed for some one to talk to. Her nearly daily intercourse with Aunt Ann had weakened her ability to pass hom-s of loneliness philosophically. " How absurd that she should be sitting alone there, and I alone here," she thought. " It is nearly noon, I believe I will try 10 get her to come in and lunch tvith me." The girl looked out. The fast melting snow had 120 NEXT DOOR. ceased. All was still, and gray, and liumid. She had several times before this leaned from her window and summoned Aunt Ann by rapping on the neighboring one. Unless the housekeeper happened to be below stairs, she never failed to hear and answer the call. "That is what I will do," said Margery, starting up ; "she must come over to lunch with me. It will make her appreciate her own cooking the more." She went to the closet for her umbrella in its trim case, threw a shawl about her, and opened the window. Fortunately the houses were narrow. By leaning perilously far out she could tap the neighboring sash or pane and make herself heard. Carrying out her usual programme she now reached over and knocked once, twice, without success, waiting between the calls to give Aunt Ann time to come in from her room. Growing somewhat impatient she braced herself, leaned out a trifle farther, and gave a sharper blow, when, just as she was drawing the umbrella back for a repetition, the besieged window flew up. "Here! Who are you? What are you doing?" demanded a man's voice savagely, as Kay Ingalls thrust his head out. Margery gave a little scream, nearly losing her bal- ance in her surprise, while the umbrella waved wildly for a moment, clinked against the brick wall, and (hen fell, striking the dividing fence, and bounding into Aunt Ann's yard. "Miss Standish," ejaculated Ray, gazing in extreme lurprist' at the girl on her perch. AN UMBRELLA AND A ROSE. 121 " Yes, and you have nearly sent me after tne um- brella," she answered, laughing. "I was calling Aunt Ann. Forgive me, won't you? Of course I could have no idea you would be at home at this hour of the day." This unfortunate addition caused both of them to flush violently. "Especially after last evening," answered Ray, stiffly, his position, hands resting on window-sill, and body protruding into mid-air, not altogether compat- ible with an effective showing of injured dignity. " Nothing but one of the violent headaches to which I am subject would have brought me to-day, and even then I rang the bell and inquired of Rosalie whether I should intrude upon you by coming in. Rest as- sured it was the farthest thing from my intention." "And then I upset all your plans by beating upon your window. It is a shame," declared Margery, sparkling and beaming in a way to cause her interloc- utor to wonder if she could be the same person who loaded him with contumely only last evening. "I have just been writing to you," she continued. " Ah ! " returned Ray. " Did you leave the roora last night before you had finished all you had to say?" " Oh, do not speak of it that way," said the girl, with a charming, coaxing air. "You will see when you lead my note how sorry I was for my ill temper, although now of course there is no need at all of your paving the note." " Yes, yes, indeed," replied Ray, hastily, forgetting, 122 NEXT DOOR. as he looked at Margery's fresh face above the folds o* the Rob Roy shawl, to be as distant as his injuries demanded. "The note is mine. I," smiling reluc- tantly, " I want to see your humility in black and white. I imagine it is a novel sight." " But I cannot get it to you now. My umbrella has deserted. Besides, perhaps you overrate my humil- ity," added Margery, more seriously ; " I meant every word I said to you last night, but I am sorry to have been so impolite at the last." "I think I am rather glad you were," said Ray, easily mollified. "It gives us an opportunity to for- give mutually. I am willing to do anything in your company." " Then go back into the house," returned Margery, abruptly. "You are pale as a ghost. I ought not to have let you talk to me a minute," and she jumped down from the sill. " Wait, Miss Standish, please. The note, you know. I have to endure tortures for a couple of hours. You can't refuse me the note." " But how " began Margery, popping her pretty head out again. " Here is a cane," and Ray held one toward her. She accepted it and temporarily disappeared. Taking the freshest and best looking of the roses, and pinning its stem to her envelope, she took the slim ebony cane with its chased gold handle, and, driving its point through the note, passed it back to its owner "I am so sorry for your head," she said, gently. AN UMBRELLA AND A ROSE. 123 Ray was very white as he smiled his thanks. " Is the rose one of mine?" he asked eagerly. "Now it is," she replied evasively, but relented, see> ing his pallor. "Yes, I rescued them," she added. "Good-bye. Aunt Ann will take care of you, of course." " Yes indeed, she is very kind, and so are you," then both windows closed, and Margery sat down to think it over. It seemed as though she were always having some little thing to think over in these days. But suddenly she remembered her cherished umbrella soaking into the damp ground, and started up. She had just time before lunch to rescue it. In five minutes more she was standing at Miss Eaton's basement door, ringing the bell. She hoped to accomplish her errand without meeting Aunt Ann, but as luck would have it the latter was descending the basement stairs at the moment when Rosalie admitted the visitor. "Margery, is it you, dear?" she said in a hushed voice. " Poor Ray is up stairs with such a headache. I am just going to get some hot water and wring out cloths to put on his head. You have come in to lunch with me. Go right into the dining-room and I " "No, Aunt Ann, I didn't come in to lunch. I dropped something out of my window into your back yard. I am going to get it, and then right home. Do not pay any attention to me. I know you ought to hurry. I am so sorry for Mr. Ingalls." But Aunt Ann was over the kitchen stove when 124 XEXT DOOR. Margery came in with her umbrella, whose neat case was all wet and stained. "Dropped your umbrella out of the window, my dear !" exclaimed the former, looking over her specta- cles. " How ever did you manage that, ? " u The law of gravitation managed it for me," re- plied the girl, demurely. " Can I do anything at all to help you?" " No, dear, no ; but I wish you'd stay if you can. You might read to the poor boy when he feels better. I suppose he'll want it. Sick folks always do; and I am the poorest hand. I can't seem to keep my thoughts from running onto something else. Even poor pa's patience used to give out. ' Ann,' he'd say, * you can do most things ; but you can't read any more than Kits.' Well, I must go up," and Aunt Ann seized her pitcher of boiling water and hurried up the stairs, while Margery stooped to caress the cat, repos- ing in a safe corner close to the stove and out of Rosalie's way. "Isn't he a splendid fellow?" she asked of the latter. ** Miss Eaton thinks so," responded Rosalie, grimly. "I can't abide cats, and never could; but he rules the roost here, you may be sure. I suppose I shall spread lunch for you, Miss Margery, if so be you're goin' to stay and tend the sick." Margery caught the smile that accompanied this suggestion, and rose hastily from her stooping posture. *' No, I cannot stay to-day," she replied briefly, and Immediately left the house. Atf UMBRELLA AND A ROSE. 125 When Kate came home she gave her a graphic ac- count of her morning's interview with their neighbor; and Kate listened with interest and laughed heartily She uttered no word of criticism or of disappointment that the estrangement, of which she had privately hoped much, had proved of so short duration. " And now I have to make a new case for my um- brella," said Margery, dolefully. "Is that a high price to pay for your reconcilia- tion?" u No, perhaps not ; but I shall never dare to knock foi Aunt Ann any more, and that is an inconvenience, Jdi. Ingalls will Lave to be very nice to repay me." CHAPTER XHI. BAD NEWS. day, some weeks after peace had been restored, Margery met Ray in the street. He had received no encouragement, either from Aunt Ann or any one else, to repeat his call at the next house; and his glimpses of Margery had been few and far between. His face lighted with pleasure when they met, and he stood still, compelling her to pause and shake hands with him. " I am going your way," he said, " if you will let me." " Very well," she replied ; " but my errand will noi interest you. I am going to buy some flannel." "Oh, yes! for the poor, I suppose," said Ray, with Borne vague association of ideas. " Yes," returned Margery, raising her eyebrows and smiling, " for two of the poor." "I have been wanting to see you very much the past few days," continued Ray, as they walked along. * If you were not as unapproachable as the princess in a fairy tale, I should have come in to see you last evening." 126 BAD NEWS. 127 Margery laughed. " I have a beautiful dragon, at any rate," she said. " Yes, and it is about a danger that threatens your Bister that I wished to see you." Margery turned to him with sudden apprehension. "I ought not to call it danger perhaps. I don't know how she will regard it. Does she value her position in the choir?" " Yes, indeed." " Well, I am afraid she is on the eve of losing h." Margery flushed and then turned pale ; but she answered quietly : . "You would be likely to have correct information on that point from your uncle. Does Kate not satisfy them ? " " I have not said a word to Uncle John about it," replied Ray. " The fact is I was too much vexed with him for favoring the change. All I know is what I heard two ladies of the congregation saying about it. You know your sister is quite young to be singing with the others of that qaartette." " I know,'' murmured Marge rv ; " she would never o * * have been there but for Madam Sevrance. But her voice balances," she added, more confidently. "There is never any feeling of inadequacy about it to me." " Nor to me," returned Ray, warmly. " It is beau- tiful. Everybody has praised it until now ; but here is the trouble. Miss B , who, you know, has been singing so long in light opeia, has withdrawn from the rtage and is open for a church engagement. She haa 128 NEXT DOOR. a big, dramatic, mature voice, and, according to what I heard these ladies say, the music committee are eagei to secure her. Indeed, they implied that the change was to be effected soon." Margery's transparent face revealed her distress, and confirmed Ray's suspicions that this loss would be a very serious matter to his fair neighbors. He flushed high with generous sympathy ; but he spoke as lightly as he was able. "There is one good thing about it. Plenty of other churches would be glad to secure such a prize as Miss Standish." "Yes, but few others pay nearly so high a salary as Bhe gets now," returned the girl artlessly. Ray's heart beat fast. The idea of its being within the range of possibility that Margery should need money; Margery, for whom it would be the highest privilege and honor to provide. He looked with fer vent eyes at her pretty, drooping face, and so doing ran into a corpulent pedestrian, whose growls and maledictions roused them both from reverie. "Perhaps I had better have said nothing," observed Ray, miserably. "You have done right and very kindly," replied the girl. "If Kate is well prepared, that will make the trial much less. Do not come in with me," she added, with an effort at cheerfulness, as they reached her destination, "it would only bore you." "But when shall I see you again?" askd her com- panion, regarding her anxiously. BAD NEWS. 129 "How can I tell," she returned, lightly. "Such very near neighbors cannot long miss one another." " Do not say that. You know it is nonsense " he answered. Margery rather enjoyed his dissatisfaction. " You will soon have no time to miss me. Aunt Ann tells me you are becoming very gay; that your uncle is introducing you into society, and that invitations are beginning to come in numerous as the sands of the sea." "Why do I never meet you?" "For the best of reasons," laughed Margery. "1 am not in society. Good-bye." " Well, good-bye," he said, reluctantly, holding the hand she offered in a clinging grasp. " I think it is rather hard on me that you never go anywhere." " Then what is it to me ? " asked Margery, comically. "Do you not suppose I would like to go out, and dress beautifully, and drive a great deal, and not rise till noon ? I should like now to be going to buy gorgeous costumes for Kate and me, instead of four yards of Shaker flannel," and, with a little grimace, the girl nodded and entered the store, leaving Ray to turn gloomily in the direction of the office. Margery's face changed back to its expression of anxiety when she was alone. Beautiful, hard-working, cheerful Kate. What a thunderbolt she must cast at her feet to-night ! She smiled scornfully at the flannel which the clerk Unfolded before her, and y^t it nas a good piece, quite 130 NEXT DOOR. as good as could be expected for fifty cents a ynrd She was thinking of Mr. Exton. "And I was foolish enough to believe that he remein bered that we were in existence, and would take an interest in our fate. Ah, Kate was right. Kate is always right," she thought. Arrived at home, it was Aunt Ann's steps she ascended instead of her own, and soon she was plunged into a recital of Ray's bad news, her hands clasped in the hard, sympathetic ones \>i her aunt, whose specta- cles were pushed up, while her kindly face expressed a troubled interest in the tale. " I don't know what we shall do," finished Margery. "Of course there are a dozen applicants pressing for every vacancy. If it were not for Madam Sevrnnce the case would be hopeless; but even she cannot work miracles, and there is no telling how long Kate may have to wait." " Well, well, I declare it's unfortunate," said Aunt Ann ; "but, Margery," and she patted the girl's hand with huge satisfaction, " I am not poor, my dear. I have something laid by for a rainy day, and you and Kate are all the children I have. Don't you worry, nor don't you let Kate worry." Margery kissed the speaker's cheek. "Thank you, dear Aunt Ann; but while we are both well, you know we would not touch your rainy-day money. Why, even I would not do that," she added, with A little laugh. "We are not at the end of our resources. You do not know yet how many things BAD NEWS. r can teach," tossing her head with an assumption of conceit. Aunt Aim regarded her with mild thoughtfulness, and a bright idea suddenly entered her mind. " Well, I must not sit here wasting my time," said the girl, rising briskly. "Promise not to worry over two healthy, able-bodied nieces, or I shall not feel at liberty to run to you with every little trouble." Aunt Ann gave her a loving hug, and held the Brreet door open to watch her go down the steps. When the latter turned to ascend her own, they ex- changed cheerful nods, and then Aunt Ann closed the door. Returning to her room, she sat down and took Kits in her lap. She could think better with her hand rest- ing on his sleek fur. " I don't see what harm it could do," she said at iiength aloud. " I believe I'll go, and I suppose the sooner its done the better. Get down, Kits. I'm going on a diplomatic errand, sir, and I must make myself look right for it." This Aunt Ann accordingly did ; and when her best garments were donned, and she had drawn on a new pair of black kids, nearly as roomy as the old ones, for Aunt Ann always said she must have room to breathe, she bade Rosalie good-bye, shut Kits into the warmest room in the house, and set forth on her errand. Taking a horse-car, she rode into the heart of the city. Then, after consulting a card which she had taken from Ray's room, she found her way to an in> 132 NEXT DOOR. posing stone building, and ascended a flight of stairs. Opening a heavy door at her right, she walked into a large, handsome room, full of railings and desks, where half a dozen men looked up at her entrance. Among them were Mr. Wiley, Mr. Sharp, and Ray Ingalls. The latter immediately came for- ward. "What is it, Aunt Ann?" he said, shaking- hands with her cordially. " I want to see your uncle if I can." Ray evinced every symptom of terror. "Has my time come? What have I been doing?" "You'll know some day," replied Aunt Ann, curtly. Ray laughed and brought forward a chair. "Then excuse me, and I will find out if he is dis- engaged. Sit down here, please." Aunt Ann had plenty to admire in the elegant ap- pointments of the office, and waited without the least perturbation until the time when Ray returned, and ushered her into the private room beyond, where Mr. Exton gravely rose to greet her. Aunt Ann was too simple-hearted to be awed by his wanner or surroundings. She would welcome him into her domains whenever he liked to present himself there, and she took it for granted that her hospitable attitude was reciprocated. * What a fine place you've got here," she said, shaking hands with him. "I suppose you're very busy, and dread to see a woman come in in business hours." She took the seat he offered her. "But ] BAD NKWS. 133 ain't any great talker, and I'll be quick about it. 1 came to see you about ray niece Kate." " Miss Standish ! " " Yes, that's the one, the one that sings in church. I want to find out whether you like her!" Mr. Exton, who had reseated himself with his arm resting on his desk, here looked up and met the speaker's eyes in amazement, while a faint red color stole slowly up over his dark face. "That's all," continued Aunt Ann, simply. "I don't want to take your time. Just answer yes or no. Do you like her?" Exton looked instinctively at the heavy door to be sure it was closed. Once certain that such was the case, his complete mystification could not prevent his smiling into his visitor's anxious face. "There could be but one answer to that, Miss Eaton, I am sure, provided I knew Miss Stan dish ; but T have spoken with her but twice. I cannot Hatter myself that I know her." "'Tain't necessary that you should know her," re- sponded Aunt Ann, shaking her head a trifle im- patiently. "That isn't the point. The point is that you hired her to sing in your church, Margery told me so ; and if you liked her well enough for that then, why do you turn her away now?" Aunt Ann put out the palm of one of her black gloves in a jerky gesture of inquiry as she added, "Don't she sing aa well as she ever did ? " Mr. Exton moved his chair a trifle nearer his ques 134 NEXT DOOR. tioner. "What is this?" he asked, with interest, concentrating his serious, pleasant gaze on Aunt Ann's face. " You must have been misinformed." " Not you alone, of course. But the committee are going to send her away, so we hear. Mr. Exton!" Aunt Ann threw herself instinctively on the nobility and strength she saw in his face. " Mr. Exton, it will be a blow to Kate to lose that place. Perhaps you didn't know that she and Margery support themselves after having been brought up in the lap of luxury. Their father was a speculator. He married my sister and then separated her from all her relatives. A purse-proud man he was. If it wasn't business hours I'd tell you all about it; but no matter now. My sister died long ago ; and as soon as the girls' father had lost all he had, he went and died too. It was just like him exactly. He never thought of anybody but himself. Well, well, of course I suppose he couldn't help it; but it looked that way." Aunt Ann wiped her eyes hurriedly. " If you knew how good Kate is, and what tender care she takes of Margery, and what a lovely, high spirit she has, and how hard she works, you'd let her keep that place, Mr. Exton, unless you really don't like her." Exton nodded sympathetically; and there was a light in his eyes, kindled there by Aunt Ann's eulogy. " Miss Standish's voice is charming. She does her work well. If there is a movement on foot to di& place her, it is unknown to me," he replied, kindly. " And to her too, poor child, so far," replied Auni BAD NEWS. 135 A.i/n. "Margery heai-d of it to-day, and told me about it. It Avas my own idea coming to you." " Where did Miss Margery learn this ? " " Ray told her. He heard them talking it over at the church." " Ah ! " Exton dropped his eyes a moment, then looked up again. " The young man knows your nieces?" " Yes." Aunt Ann laughed easily at some recollec- tion. " He doesn't see much of them. Kate has queer notions. She don't encourage new friends much of any." Here the speaker resumed her anxious expression. "I hope you can do something for her. We shall be very grateful." Mr. Exton smiled. " This is all news to me so I cannot promise anything but my influence. Nothing definite can be clone without my knowledge, and I well, I shall make a great effort to retain Miss Standish." Aunt Ann's countenance brightened. She arose, and Mr. Exton followed her example. " You've relieved my mind wonderfully ; but I don't want to urge you, you know, if you don't like her," she said, doubtfully. Mr. Exton smiled as he shook her honest hand. " I do like her," he replied, heartily, and when Aunt Ann, beaming with content, had disappeared, nnd the oaken door was closed behind her, he sat down at his desk to find his pulses accelerated by the declaration. He recalled Kate's pale face as it looked 136 NEXT DOOR. every Sunday ; as it looked when she rejected hid offer to call upon her sister. Her youth and beauty were sufficiently marked to hnve made her often a theme for conversation among O the people of the church. He had been accustomed to hearing comments upon her, and they had seldom been favorable. Many a lady of the society would have entertained and made a pet of the young singer temporarily, but that such attentions were sure to be nipped in the bud. Perfectly approachable in a busi- ness relation, all attempts to draw her out socially had failed. The young man was recalling this and wondering what it had to do with the effort to remove her from the choir, when a message was again brought that a lady wished to speak with him. There was a decided impatience in his manner as he nodded assent. In a minute in walked the stately figure of an elderly lady; tall, with her white hair dressed d, la Pompa- dour. She was dressed in a luxurious garment of seal- skin, which covered her from head to foot, and a close bonnet of fine feathers. At sight of her strong face, with its brilliant black eyes, Mr.Exton rose with ready cordiality. "Madam Sevrance, this is indeed a pleasant sur- prise." "Yes, yes, I suppose so," replied the new-comer, brusquely, shaking hands with him, and then taking the chair vacated a short time since by Aunt Ann. "What is this about Miss Standish being supplanted BAD NEWS. 137 in the choir at the ' Apostles ? ' " she continued, pin- ning him with her flashing eyes. Mr. Exton deliberately reseated himself. " I do not know what it is," he replied. " You mean that you didn't know anything about it?" " Precisely ; until a few minutes ago, when her aunt attacked me about as you are doing now." " Oh, yes, her aunt," repeated Madam Sevrance, meditating. "I've heard of the aunt; an amiable rural personage. Well, I can tell you what about it," she added, with an excited gesture, " I see through the whole thing. They don't like Kate in the church, nor in the choir, because they aren't good enough for her. What sort of companion is she for Miss K , the contralto, with her red face and her coarse ways? It annoys the choir to have her behave herself through th service, while they are drawing caricatures and writ- ing notes. Miss K would rather have Miss B , of the opera, of course ; but of course she wouldn't have anything to do with it. The idea is that Miss B has more fame and more voice ; but I tell you, John," and the excited woman gave a quick shake of her head, "she can't sing in tune. I mean she can't always sing in tune. Now, Kate can't do otherwise. Did you ever hear her get off pitch ? " Here she pointed a searching finger at her listener. " Never," he responded, with gratifying promptness. < be happy to-night fresh from so many compliments ind kind words. Some friend cared enough for our pleasure to send us these flowers. Some other body is willing to pay a hundred dollars a year extra to hear you sing on Sunday. There are two friends, and Aunt Ann and Kits are two more, and we have each other. Let me put your violets with the roses. We must make them last as long as we can. May the great unknown feel it in all his bones when we are going to another party 1 " " Ah," said Kate, looking affectionately at her busy sister, " you are healthy, Margery. I do not believe you need any quinine 1 " CHAPTER XVTL CROSS-QUESTIONINGS. KATE'S first attempts toward gaining social popn* larity met with success. There was no doubt that she carried off the honors of Mrs. Farrar's evening, musi- cally, and her conscientious efforts to ingratiate herself with the possible patrons there assembled were not without effect. To Mrs. Exton, especially, she showed a most natural and sweet deference after that unfor- tunate and unkind criticism of her; and the fancy of the capricious old lady was delightfully touched by the girl's striking beauty, winning manner, and fresh voice. She accosted her son on the subject the moment their carriage had turned toward home. Settling back into her corner, and resting her head against the cushions, she spoke in the weary, nasal tone into which tired women fall. " I wonder where Madam Sevrance found her, John? She is as graceful and at ease as any girl I know." " What is there surprising in that, mother ? " Mr, Exton spoke abruptly. 178 CEOSS-QUESTIONINGS. 179 " It is a pity I am so seldom able to go to church," continued the other, " and yet it was she, was it not, whom the committee thought of sending away? I am very glad they decided not to do it. I shall save myself on purpose to go next Sunday. She told me that they were to have some extra music. Where," reverting to her first question, " did Madam Sevrance find her?" " She found Madam Sevrance, I believe." "Oh, indeed; a Boston family?" Mr. Exton smiled at the eagerness of the question. "Probably, once. You could not, as a free-born American, ask for an older name. No ; Miss Stan- dish's father was a New Yorker, I believe." Mrs. Exton relapsed into her corner. " Why didn't she stay in New York, then? I suppose there are plenty of music teachers there. Was her father pres- ent to-night?" " I cannot be sure. Mr. Standish departed this life some time since." " You seem to know a great deal about them," said the other, with a touch of resentment. " It happens fortunately for you, does it not?" asked the son, quietly. " Perhaps you can tell me what this departed fathei IVH3." "When he died?" Well yes." " A ruined speculator. He died here in Boston." "Ah, then, perhaps his daughter simply remained 180 NEXT DOOR. here because she hadn't money enough to return to New York. But, then, how could she afford to takp lessons of Madam Sevrance? Her prices are exorbi- tant." Mr. Exton smiled into the gloom. " That is between themselves; but I imagine Miss Standish pays that debt in some other coin than that we are accustomed to. Madam Sevrance is very fond of her," he added. " And well she may be. I dare say she dresses her," said Mrs. Exton. " She was well dressed ; in fact, she appeared in every way quite as well as any girl I know." " And again I ask, why should that surprise you ? " "You know that is a very foolish question." "Indeed I do not. I really wish you would enlight- en me." " I am surprised at you, John. A woman so young as Miss Standish, who teaches to support herself ! What time has she had for self-cultivation? I am not taking into consideration now her antecedents; but you say her father was nobody, and her mother how about her mother ? " " Her mother was a farmer's daughter ; sister of Ray's housekeeper." " No ! " exclaimed Mrs. Exton, in excessive surprise. " Sister of that person ! " "Miss Eaton is an excellent cook," suggested the Dther, tranquilly. "And you think that it is not surprising that the niece of an excellent cook, a mere drudge, should look CROSS-QUESTIONINGS. 181 find move and speak as that young creature did to- night?" asked Mrs. Exton, between triumph and amazement. After a moment of vain waiting for a reply, she con- tinued : " By the way, my son, I do not like Ray's calling that woman aunt." "Miss Standish calls her so." "That is a different matter!" was the haughty reply. " Why should you compare itay to Miss Stan- dish? I wish you would give Ray to understand that it is not fitting for him to address that woman what is her name?" "Eaton." " Well, Miss Eaton, so familiarly." " I see no harm in it, mother, and would rather not interfere in such a trifling matter." "You are very odd in some things, John. You haven't quite all the perceptions that I should ex- pect"; but while uttering this criticism, Mrs. Exton turned her languid eyes upon her son with an adoring expression. " I will see Ray and have a talk with him myself. Where did he disappear to to-night? He ought to have stayed longer. It was hardly respectful to Mrs. Farrar." "He was there to the very end," and Mr. Exton smiled. " He I'emained pretty much in one spot, how- ever, in a remote corner with a charming companion," Mrs. Exton laughed indulgently. " Who was the companion? Abby Waite? She is a pretty littla thing." 182 NEXT DOOR. "No, she was another pretty little thing. Misa Margery Standish." The old lady frowned as suddenly as she had laughed. "Is there another of them?" "Miss Standish has a sister, yes." "How could you allow it, John? I mean allow Ray to behave so." "I suppose it would have been quite a different thing if he had chosen to behave so with Miss Waite." "Why of course it would. John," with sudden perception, " he becomes acquainted with these girl? through their aunt." " I suspect he does," remarked the son, coolly. " Why, this is distressing ! " exclaimed Mrs. Exton, sitting up straight and looking down a long vista of possible calamity. "Those people are always designing, always in a hurry to get their girls married, and Ray is so young, he is just the victim for them." "Mother, try not to be so unreasonable." John spoke sternly at last. "You felt unable to let Ray come to us, you feared he would disturb your health and comfort in various ways. The next best thing has been done. Miss Eaton is an excellent woman, and we are most fortunate to have secured her. She is one of the simplest creatures in the world, and Beems really fond of Ray." Here Mrs. Exton groaned. " Far from endeavoring to attract the young man, CKOSS-QUESTIONINGS. 183 these young ladies have avoided him as far as they could. He told me so himself." "Is it possible?" replied Mrs. Exton, hopefully. "Then my intuition was more correct than my fear Miss Standish must be just what she appears. She ?a exactly the sort of person one would like to have about one constantly ; reposeful and harmonious." " Provided, of course that she kept her place," sug- gested the son, darkly. " Oh, of course," assented the other, unsuspiciously. " It is because I am certain she has tact and would never annoy me, that I am thinking of her." Mr. Exton laughed outright. " Do you suppose you can buy Miss Standish with as little trouble as you had last week in purchasing that villainous pug?" Mrs. Exton drew herself up with offended dignity. "I think uhe is not the sensible girl I take her for if she will not gladly exchange her boarding-house and monotonous round of teaching for such a home as I shall give her. She could go on singing in church just the same. I could make her very useful," added the old lady, musingly. " You are on quite the wrong track, mother," said She young man, struggling with his irritation. " If you wish for a young lady companion, we can easily find one for you; but not Miss Standish. Pray, put that out of your mind at once, else you will be greatly disappointed. It is strange you can consider asking a young lady to abandon her profession in order to read and sing to an invalid." 184 NEXT DOOR. " Why should I not offer a young girl an easy lif in place of a hard one if I take a fancy to her?" asked his mother, shortly. " This is not the sort of matter for you to interfere in, my son. I thought you were going to Mrs. Hereford's to-night," she added, with a determination to change the subject. "I did intend to do so, but I found Ray disinclined, so I rather lazily followed his example." "I think I must see Ray," observed Mrs. Exton, thoughtfully. " He seems a child to me still. I fear I have not realized sufficiently the necessity of super- vising him." That she should have the least difficulty in directing her grandson's tastes and movements, hardly occurred to the imperious old lady. John had never thwarted her. He had grown up, passed through college, and travelled, like many another fortunately born young man, without indulging in any eccentricities which could annoy her, and, at his father's death, had taken his honored place in the business world with a quiet capability which won many encomiums from hia mother's friends, and only confirmed her opinion that in all the world no one had ever, or would ever rival her beloved and only son in all that goes to make manhood admirable. With the memory of the deference John had always paid to her wishes, Mrs. Exton then scolded herself gently for a lamentable lack of attention to her orphan grandson, and the very next day sent for Ray to como sud dine with her. CROSS-QUESTIONINGS. 185 She examined him critically as he came into the room, and greeted her, his face alight with the super- abundant health and spirit of youth. "Does not your conscience reproach you, Ray?" she asked, receiving his kiss with unusual cordiality, and leaning back in the luxurious chair in which she was always to be found when outside of her own chamber. " It seerns to rne you have neglected me of late. Sit down here and let me lecture you." " Why I am delighted to hear you say so," returned the young fello\v, taking the seat she indicated, " for that means that you have been well enough to want to see me. You know I am always at your orders, and only do not wish to make myself a nuisance." "Ah, Ray, had I only been well enough to have you live here, under my roof," sighed the old lady. " That is what Irene would have wished." " My mother would not have wished you to be uri comfortable." "It is not I who would have been made uncomfort- able by that arrangement, but you," remarked Mrs. Exton, shaking her white head languidly. "You could not have had patience to maintain such quiet as I must have. It is so long since I have been able to entertain at all, and there are so many days when the least noise distracts me, it would be but a sad home for a boy like you, and yet " she hesitr.ted, and Ray spoke ear nestly. "Do not distress yourself in the least, grandmother. I am quite happy. Ask Uncle John," casting a glance 186 NEXT DOOR. at Mr. Exton, who sat near, apparently absorbed in his paper, "if I am not well situated; or, better yet, some evening when you are able, come and see me. Aunt Ann would be delighted." Mrs. Exton turned her eyes until they met his coldly. "Who?" she asked; "who would be de- lighted?" " Why, Aunt Ann ; Miss Eaton," he responded, un- suspiciously. "I was not aware that we had the honor of Miss Katon's relationship." Ray looked up, a surprised glance in his brown eyes. " No, of course not ; but every one in Cedarville calls her aunt, and I formed the habit while there." Mrs. Exton accepted the explanation as though she bad needed it. "Ah!" she said, with a short nod; "but now that you are not in Rome you need not do as the Romans do." " Oh, it would quite hurt her now for me to call her Miss Eaton," returned Ray, hastily. " She is very fond of me," he continued, with fatuous complacency ; "she seems to consider me as one of her own." " Absurd ! " exclaimed the old lady, intolerantly. " I do not like it and I will not have it. She is your housekeeper and nothing more, Ray. Pray, do not encourage a familiarity which was well enough when you were a child, but which is now decidedly out of place. You can never be sure with such people when ihey will cause you mortification. It is better to pre CROSS-QUESTIONINGS. 187 rent the possibility by keeping them at all times at a proper distance." Ray's face was very red. " Such people!" he burst out. " What sort of a person do you suppose she is? You saw her nieces last night." Mr. Exton must have turned his attention from heavy editorials to the newspaper wit ; for he here smiled broadly into the open sheet. " No, I saw but one of them. She is a beautiful girl. It really grieved me to think she had not been born into, and fitted to fill, a higher station. She has every natural advantage." " She is fitted to fill any station," blurted out Ray, terribly nettled. " So is her sister." "My dear," observed his grandmother, compassion- ately, "you are very young." " I suppose I am," cried Ray, rising in a passion ; "but young as I am, I " He was about boldly declaring then and there his love for Margery Standish, and his determination not to listen to a word in disfavor of her or any of her belongings; but at the critical moment he rnet the steady gaze of a pair of deep gray eyes above the low- ered newspaper, and for a second he paused. " Mother, it naturally annoys Ray to have you set Ms judgment at naught. He knows these young ladies and you do not." "At least he knows them better than I do," assented Mrs. Exton, apparently unconscious of having aroused any deep feeling, and immediately reverting to the 188 NEXT DOOR. idea of her own benefit, with the selfishness of hei invalided condition. She turned again to her grand- Bon, who was manfully mastering his agitation. " I have taken a great fancy to Miss Standish," she said. "In fact, I am anxious to engage her for a com- panion. I have never seen any one before whom I wished about me in that capacity. How do you think she would like the idea?" " I don't think she would like it," returned Ray, with what composure he could muster, " and you certainly would not." "Well, that is just what I want you to tell me," said Mrs. Exton, raising herself and leaning on an arm of her chair. " What is the reason I should not like it?" "For many reasons. For instance," said Ray reck- lessly, " supposing Uncle John were to fall in love with her." "A very absurd suggestion," said Mrs. Exton, sharply. "Have you any sensible objection to offer? Have I," becoming suddenly ironical, " touched a sore subject in discussing this young girl? Are you judg- ing your uncle by yourself? Is it possible that you fancy yourself impressed by Miss Kate Standish, or are you only making a general defence of all belonging to Miss Eaton ? " " This will do, I think, mother," observed her son, in the decided tone he rarely used at home. " Ray has no deeper regard for Miss Standish than I have. [t is distasteful to discuss her in this way. I hope you CROSS-QUESTIONINGS. 189 do not think seriously of your new fancy ; but if yot do, your best way will be to call on the young lady, and then decide it between yourselves. As for Miss Eaton, I think you are forgetting how highly Irene regarded her. In fact, it has occurred to me several times since she came to Boston that her home in the country may prove the very place for you to go next summer a place where you can be undisturbed, and have a quiet change." " Oh, John, I hardly think," returned his mother, meditatively, "still, it may be possible. Come, Ray," she continued, an amused smile breaking over her face, "smooth that ruffled brow. I see that I have unwittingly underrated this remarkable family ; but I shall have a headache if we discuss them further., Let us adjourn to the dining-room." CHAPTER KATE ACCEPTS ADVICE. AUNT ANN awoke that morning in a very pardon- able flutter of curiosity to hear how the "party" passed off. Ray's enthusiastic assurance that the evening had been the pleasantest he had spent in Boston did not tend to allay her happy excitement ; and at an early hour she presented herself in her nieces' apartment. She found Kate putting the finishing touches to her toilet, and Margery still in bed, rubbing her pretty, sleepy eyes, and quite ready to wake up and give her aunt a detailed account of decorations and dresses, and the compliments she and Kate had received. Under her ingenious handling the Misses Standish became very important features of Mrs. Farrar's enter- tainment, insomuch that Kate was fain to laugh heartily, if a little scornfully, at the burst of delighted "Well, wells f" and "Do saysf" that escaped from Margery's enraptured listener. "I am not a mite surprised, not one mite!" ex- claimed Aunt Ann at last, smoothing her apron and smiling. 190 KATE ACCEPTS ADVICE. 194 "I am a little," remarked Kate, pinning her collat before the glass. " I fail quite to recognize ourselves." "Fie, Kate! Don't spoil a good story," said Mar gery, good-naturedly. "It is every bit true, Aunt Ann. Kate never will see herself as others see her." "Just so," responded Aunt Ann, surveying her elder niece with pride. " Now, Kate, I am sure you must see how mistaken your finicky notions are, and what a good tiling it is for you and Margery to go out a little and shine as you were meant to do. I heard a word or two of it from Ray ; but he was very late to breakfast and just swallowed a cup of coffee and ran. \ told him I was sure he needn't hurry ; Uncle John would most likely be late himself." " Do not speak that name thus lightly," said Mar- gery with a portentous sigh, pressing her hands upon % er heart. Kate flashed one glance at her, and then turned to tieir visitor, who added, coaxingly, "Ain't you glad ;ou went now, dear?" " If it proves the means of getting me new pupils, yes, Aunt Ann." " And that's all you care for," exclaimed the latter in amazement. " Well, now, a body would think you would have enjoyed so much music, and gay people a- following you round, and Mr. Exton a-dancing attend- ance on you and all." Kate groaned. " Fancy Mr. Exton < dancing attend ince ' on anybody," she thought. 192 NEXT DOOR. "When I am a woman of leisure, Aunt Ann," 8n returned, " I will try my best to shine for brilliancy'* sake. Now it must be in the interests of business." " You don't want to try to be brilliant," said Aunt Ann, simply, " you only want to try to make people have a good time. I take it you don't need to think much about yourself till afterward. If folks are try- ing to make others happy they'll shine fast enough, and girls like you and Margery don't need to throw away the pleasures that offer as you go along through life. I mistrust, Kate my dear, that you are very proud," she added, dubiously, looking at the girl over the top of her spectacles. Kate flushed high. "Proud as a queen, proud as an empress," pro* nounced Margery, emphatically. "Well, there's a good way and a bad way of being proud," remarked Aunt Ann, throwing out the sugges- tion in her simple matter-of-fact fashion. "Have you girls had any breakfast?" "No, indeed," cried Margery, springing up nimbly. " Meals in the room extra, and Kate and I do not have any extras. But I can live on the memory of Mrs. Farrar's supper a good while yet." "You will both go right in with me and get a good cup of coffee, the minute you are ready," said Aunt Ann. Kate, who had been removing the laces from her festal garment, here put an arm around the speakei ind gazed into her eyes. KATE ACCEPTS ADVICE. l9S "Have you been scolding me, Aunt Ann?" she asked, with an assumed frown. "I don't know, my dear," was the smiling answer. *'If you deserve it I have." Aunt Ann heard a good deal about Mrs. Farrar's party, first and last. Ray conversed glibly upon the topic on every disengaged evening for a week after- ward, his grandmother's conversation having had only the effect of making him more ardent. He met his neighbors at no other festivity, and so the musicale remained the pre-eminent occasion for him. Aunt Ann could not long remain in doubt of the reality of the sentiment with which Margery had inspired the young man, and although she feigned ignorance of his intentions, she dwelt much upon the subject in secret, and silently gave Ray her full approbation and best wishes. Aunt Ann had had her own love affair of course. No one looking at her could doubt that. She had had what is called a disappointment. The lover of her youth had deserted her for a widow with a good in- come, and although he was succeeded by other aspi- rants, the sweet-looking and capable girl had but a steadily negative answer for these. She believed that " After loves of maids and men Are but dainties dressed again." She could not love twice, and her father needed her. Aunt Ann, with all her simplicity and credulity, had a lively fear of seeing her experience repeated in the 194 NEXT DOOE. life of either of her nieces, and carefully refrained from taking the responsibility of lifting so much as a finger toward bringing the young people together. "Perhaps after all Ray's feeling isn't the deep and lasting kind," she said to herself ; " and on the other hand, perhaps Margery don't care for him, and never will." One Sunday Kate had come out into the street after church and was walking briskly toward home, enjoying the bright, frosty air, when she heard hurried steps behind her on the stone walk. She had no doubt that Ray Ingalls was following her. He had begun the habit of escorting her home on Sunday and she was very cordial to him on those occasions in consideration of the obedience he had shown in abstaining from at- tentions which he was manifestly suffering to pay to her sister. There was a smile on her face as the pursuer came beside her. She looked up, but it was John Exton who lifted his ha* as he met her glance. The color flashed into her face as she greeted him. "I thought you were Mr. Ingalls," she said. "We sometimes take the walk home together." "It is a pleasant day to walk, and, as I wished to see you, I took the liberty of supplanting Ray, and of sending him home with my mother. You know disci- pline is good for youth." Kate smiled. " That was certainly very mild disci pline," she answered, trying not to be so glad to heal that quiet voice again. KATE ACCEPTS ADVICE. 195 "You are a good walker, Miss Standish, if you da this every Sunday." " Yes, I am a good Avalker, and a spur to my abili- ties is a very cordial and very improper dislike cf street-cars. As my teaching takes me in various directions, I have plenty of practice." " There you have an immense advantage over young ladies who have only shopping and calling to break in upon their sedentary habits." "I am afraid I should enjoy relinquishing that ad- vantage." "You mean you do not like teaching?" Kate bit her lip. "I spoke too hastily, as I Beem fated to do with you, Mr. Exton. I believe I ought to ask you to avoid me," she continued, with a short laugh. "You seem to rouse my any tagonism." "An antagonism to me? If so, I must rouse it in order to overcome it." " No, not to you ; to things," returned Kate, vaguely. " I would not for worlds have had Margery hear my silly speech. I think really when I am in my right mind I am perfectly contented." " Well, it is decidedly unkind of you to imply that you are only out of your right mind when you are with me." Kate colored. " I proved it, I am sure, once upon a time." " Have you not forgiven yourself yet ? I was afraid BO. That is why I wished to see you to-day." 196 NEXT DOOR. "Then, although you have forgiven, you have not forgotten," said the girl, quickly. " I haven't the faculty of forgetting. My mother, Miss Standish, quite unsuspicious of your strictures upon her, is meditating making a request of you." "What is it? I will do anything for her," replied Kate, quickly. "That is what I was afraid of," observed Exton. deliberately. "I thought I had discovered a touch of the noble Quixote about you, and I was not sure how far it might lead you." "Really!" exclaimed Kate, "I am not mad all the time, I assure you, Mr. Exton. I am certain you are not a clever judge of character " " Then you will promise not to assent to my mother's wishes, simply because she will coax you, and you have maligned her?" "I will not say that. On the contrary, I cannot conceive of Mrs. Exton's making a request that I ghould not comply with." "Very likely; but her request is going to surprise you. I still hope to divert her from making it; but my mother has suffered, Miss Standish ; she has been greatly deferred to, and, in short, is accustomed to having her own way. I fear she will insist this time, and I hope you will not I don't know how to say it. What I mean is, to beg you to treat her exactly as though you had never thought or spoken slightingly of her. Will you?" " I never like to make promises." KATE ACCEPTS ADVICE. 197 *'Do you mean that you never make them?" "Of course a young lady does only what she likes to do," replied the girl, smiling. "Is that why you refused an invitation to Mrs. Langdon's Friday evening? Has a small, informal danee no charms for you?" "Oh, how did you find, that out?" said Kate, guiltily. "Through Madam Sevrance, of course," she added, answering her own question. " I hope my sis- ter will not hear of it. I confess I did not tell her of the invitation." "May I ask why?" " She would have been so anxious to go." "You mystify me. I should suppose that to be the very reason for telling her." "I do not know that I can explain to you, Mr. Exton," said Kate, seriously; "but it is not best for us to go into society. It is not pleasant to take all and give nothing, for one thing ; and then there are myriad other reasons," she finished, abruptly. "Would you mind giving a few? I am curious to see if they are all as feeble as the first." "Why is the first feeble?" " You might accuse me unjustly of flattery if I endeavored to convince you." " Thank you for your good opinion of us. Then we will not discuss that. If you care to hear another reason, this is one, it will be difficult for you to appreciate the force of it, perhaps, but it is a weighty one, people who have time and money to move in 198 NEXT DOOR. society have similar interests and ways. There are ten thousand little customs by which they recognize one another, and " "And sometimes become fatally tired of one another before the season is over," interrupted her amused listener. " Perhaps. You are smiling, Mr. Exton ; but it is a serious matter to a novice to try to appear at ease in your world." "Please do not impute it to me. I have no ambi- tion Atlasward." " I have felt my awkwardness, on a few occasions, and Madam, and others have warned me of the folly of attempting to serve two masters." "Oh, it comes to that, does it?" "Exactly." Kate breathed with a quickness not induced by her brisk exercise. " A professional woman needs to save her strength for her work. Mrs. Lang- don is a pupil of Madam Sevrance ; and when she came so kindly to call on me, and invite me to her bouse, I knew Madam Sevrance was concerned in it, directly or indirectly ; and I knew there would be no use in our accepting." "No pupils to be obtained at a dance, I suppose?" suggested her companion, as she hesitated. His comments, whenever he touched upon this subject, although savoring of ridicule, were too gentle t6 convey any offence. " By the way, how is the pro- fession coming on ? " "Very well, indeed, thank you. Madam Sevranct KATE ACCEPTS ADVICE. 199 has most kindly given me the use of her room one half day each week; so, you see, I enjoy brief inter- vals of feeling very important." "And older than ever, I presume." "Oh, yes. I find it quite easy to invest myself with white hair, dressed d, la Pompadour, and snapping black eyes." "Do you notice that you create an extra impression *pon your pupils ? " Kate laughed. " I am afraid my imagination does not soar to that height." "May I ask what excuse you offered to Mrs. Lang- don for your refusal of her invitation ? Your theories are somewhat novel to me. I am curious to know how you carry them out." " Oh, it was a simple enough matter in this case. I knew she had only asked us to please Madam Wev- ranee, and I told her it would not be convenient for us to accept." " I imagined you allowed yourself to be guided by the Madam." " I do, mainly. She taught me some sensible ideas on the subject of girls, like my sister and myself, un- dertaking the burdens of society while we had other burdens to carry. Of late she has seemed to recant ; but I cannot follow her blindly. I saw her former course plainly, and recognized its sense; and I shall depart from it cautiously." "Heavens!" thought Exton. "How ray rnothel vould admire thatl" 200 NEXT DOOR. " Should you," he asked aloud, after a moment of silence, " consider it very presumptuous in me to hold ideas on the subject?" The lovely pale pink brought into Kate's cheeks by the bright air, deepened at this. She raised her eyea to his and smiled. " Not to hold them, certainly," she said. " But I could not conscientiously urge you to unfold them, for I cannot conceive of their being worth anything." Mr. Exton laughed. " You are very discouraging," he answered. "Fortunately for me, it runs in the Exton family not to be easily rebuffed. May I unfold them at my own risk ? " "You may. I shall take a certain interest in listen- ing to the views on such a subject of one whose silver spoon has never been snatched from his mouth." " As to your going into society, I do not presume to have an opinion," returned Exton, rather hurriedly; " but, as Madam Sevrance is a shrewd woman of busi- ness, if she urges you to go, it is probably with an ul- terior financial object. What I had to say, and the nearer I get to it, the more appalling it becomes to have to say it, perhaps, after all, I had better re- treat. Discretion is the better part of valor." " But retreat is impossible," exclaimed Kate. " My curiosity is aroused." Her heart beat fast as she spoke, for her pride took fright. Was he going to criticise her singing? " Well, then, I have taken the liberty of watch Vig you sometimes, Miss Standish, and it has oo KATE ACCEPTS ADVICE. 201 curred to me to regret that your manner was not more affable." " Affable ! My manner ! " exclaimed the girl, amazed. "Yes, at the church; among the people. I have heard occasional criticisms and complaints which might easily be avoided if you were more willing to meet advances half Avay. I have remarked myself that you are apt either to be cold or on the defensive." Kate blushed. " Is it really so ? " she said, humbly. " What a miserable attitude for a woman who wants to be liked 1" "Very," assented the other, looking down on her earnest beauty. " Then the people in the church do not like me," she continued, with quick comprehension. "Some of them do; an occasional one does ex- tremely." "You saw me at Mrs. Farrar's," she went on, look- ing up anxiously, and causing her companion hastily to avert his gaze ; "didn't I do better there?" "You did, indeed. I should suppose you would have felt your power pleasantly enough to make you resolve to use it always." "I do not think I am naturally disagreeable," she continued, with a little, meditative frown. "I am sure of it," returned Exton, devoutly. "On the defensive! Oh I am ashamed that i< ihould have struck you so, a stranger ! " a Not a stranger any longer, please remember," 202 NEXT DOOR. " Mr. Exton," Kate looked up from her unpleasant reverie, " I do so wish you would tell me something." " Then I shall if I can, of course." "I want very much to know who it is who is paying a part of my salary at church." "Do I understand you?" Mr. Exton frowned med- itatively. "You must. Being on the music committee, you must know who the gentleman is." " You are mistaken. It is as much of a mystery to nearly all the committee as it is to you." Kate sighed. "I am disappointed. I hoped you could and would tell me. I find it annoys me not to know. As soon as I learned about it I tried to put it out of my mind. I resolved never to think of it again ; but it is of no use ; I cannot help speculating about it. I find myself on Sunday gazing over the congregation in search of my benefactor. If I happen to catch the eye of a benevolent looking old gentle- man, I grow warm all over. If I have a solo I am wondering all through it whether I am satisfying him. I," Kate laughed nervously, "I constantly suspect him of regretting his bargain. Before any discussion came up about me I never had any such feelings. I suppose because I was inexperienced it never occurred to me, so long as Madam Sevrance was pleased, to disturb myself about any one else's opinion." *' I am sorry you were told of it," returned her com panion. "Ray was a little officious on that occasion, although without doubt his motives were generous." KATE ACCEPTS ADVICE. **I am sure they were," said Kate, lowering her lids over her flashing eyes. She congratulated herself on the dispassionateness with which she was able to iliscuss this matter with one of those who had been the cause of her trouble. "I hope you do not sup- pose, Mr. Exton, that I deny the committee's right to please themselves, only sometimes I wish that my unknown benefactor had not put me under so heavy an obligation." They walked on for half a minute in silence, then Mr. Exton spoke. "Since the matter is distressing you, Miss Standish, I think I may risk committing a breach of confidence so far as to admit that I know the man who is indulging himself in your voice." "Ah, then, you will tell me who he is?" " I can't do that, it wouldn't be right ; but I can allay your fears with regard to his satisfaction. He is a sincere person, and he looked me squarely in ths eyes a few days since, and said he, speaking of this matter, ' I never made so satisfactory an investment in my life. Miss Standish's voice grows better and better. Her singing is dearer and dearer to me as every week passes by. I should like to engage her tc King to me daily, but as that cannot be I make the most of this.* " Kate looked up with wide, delighted eyes, and met Ihe speaker's earnest, flushed face. " Did he really say all that ? " she asked, slowly. "Every word of it and more too. Shall I go on?" **Oh, 110," said the girl, with a little laugh. "Aunt 204 NEXT DOOR. Ann says, * praise to the face is open disgrace.' Th?< is a plenty for one day. It relieves me so much. Ha is is he I suppose he is a nice man?" she asked, a little doubtfully. " Oh a oh, yes. My mother thinks very highly of him," replied Exton, gravely. " Ah, that is all right then," said Kate, in a relieved tone. "I may take his money and his compliments gratefully. Why, you have walked quite home with me, Mr. Exton, and there is Margery in the window. She is always at home before me." Mr. Exton lifted his hat to the bright face in the parlor window, and lingered a minute. " You will remember the warning about my mother, Miss Standish?" "Yes, although I feel sure it is useless, and you, Mr. Exton, please do not tell my unknown friend of my inquisitiveness." She looked very handsome and happy as she made her request, and she read it in his eyes as he answered her. "I give you my word he shall know nothing of ft unless you tell him yourself." ** Good-bye, then," she said, with sudden haste. "Good morning." CHAITER XIX. MAKGERY RECEIVES. MAKGEKY met her sister at the door, or rather she lay in wait behind it until Kate should have come in, fearing lest Mr. Exton might catch sight of the indeco- rous eagerness in her face. "How did he happen to, Kate?" she burst forth. ** Mercy ! You frightened me, child. What do you mean by bounding out upon people like a jack-in-the- box?" " Come into the parlor," gaid Margery. " There is no one there, and it is no use to go up stairs before dinner. There is a box for you." " Not another florist's box ?" " The same. Mrs. Brown says it came fifteen mh> Utes after you had started for church." " Margery ! Oh, dear I " " Cheer up, cheer up, sweet one," gaid Margery, gushingly. " Shall I open it for you?" " No, I thank you." Kate sat down and untied the box, taking from it a large bunch of English violets. Margery seated herself and stared at them while Kate inhaled their fragrance with reluctant lovingness. 205 206 NEXT DOOR. "That, is the fourth," said Margery, oracularly. u One for Mrs. Farrar's ; one last Sunday, which you wore to church; one Friday for no reason whatever," here Kate blushed guiltily; " one this morning, for you to wear to church, only they came too late." "It is dreadful," said Kate, laying the flowers dowa "It is not pleasant to be haunted by anything, not even violets." " I should think it would make you feel criminal," said Margery, coolly, "to think how much you are costing somebody." "Dorft mention that side of it, Margery," begged the other. " Mr. Exton said that flowers should always be anonymous. I think they should also not cost any- thing." "Oh, Mr. Exton said that. Perhaps he sends them." Kate raised her eyebrows. "Perhaps he does, or else it is the Shah of Persia. This isn't a very deep mystery to me, Margie. I teach two or three girls who affect to worship me, either of whom is able to indulge in this safety valve for her affection. It would be a bore to find out her secret and to be obliged to be grateful; but I love the violets. The freak won't last long." " Or her pocket money, either," suggested Margery. "Here, dear," and Kate divided the flowers, " fasten half of these in your dress." "Not one wretched little blue flower," returned the other firmly. "My feelings are injured to think the Jacqueminots have never been repeated." MARGERY RECEIVES. 207 "Margery," and Kate looked meditatively at he* rister, resting her elbow in her hand and softly touch- ing her chin with her bouquet, " I am ashamed of my- self." " I'm delighted," said the other, promptly. " Is it because you let Mr. Exton walk home with you ? It is a wonder he arrived here without being frozen." Oh, it is not so cold." " No, but you are." " I shall never be again, Margery. Henceforth I am going through life bowing and smiling like like " "Like a happy combination of a Mandarin and Cheshire cat," suggested Margery, kindly. " I ana delighted again. What has transformed you?" " Why, Mr. Exton. He has has noticed it." "Noticed what?" " Why, how disagreeable I am." " And told you so ? How invigorating ! " " He did it very nicely," said Kate, with dignity. " Just so he did it convincingly, I do not care how he managed it." "Why, Margery," Kate looked up ruefully, "I'm nice to yow, dear." " Yes," returned the other, grimly, " especially when you underhandedly refuse invitations to dancing parties." "My dear girl! That is exactly what I am ashamed of. How did you find out? I was just going to tell you this minute." u Mr. Ingalls told me. I met him at the door as I 208 NEXT DOOE. was going to church. He wished to go with me, but I would not allow it. I am faithful to you. After call ing me your partner and all! Oh, Kate, I am sun prised 1 " "Margery, it looks hideous to me now. Let me tell you how it happened." "Oh, happened!' 1 '' repeated Margery, cruelly. " She came Mrs. Langdon came one day when you were out, and asked us merely from politeness to Madam Sevrance, merely for that, Margery " " What do I care for her motive, if her floor and music were good ? " "You weren't here to consult with. I knew w should ruin the only fine dresses we had. I knew I had no right to fatigue myself, and you could not go without me. After I had refused and she had gone, I asked myself why I need trouble you with vain re- grets; voild, tout! But it was a mistake. I will not do it again. You should have been told." " And I should have gone," said Margery, muti- nously. "I know Ray Ingalls dances like an arch- angel. He wished so much that I had been there." " It would be delightful to dance again, Margery," said Kate, looking straight over her sister's head, and speaking musingly. " Oh, you are human, then ? " "Very human. I think sometimes of how it would have been had mother and father lived, and the money Hot slipped away. How beautiful the old house was ! *' " Yea. It would have been a good hous* to entep MAKGERY EECEIVES. 209 tain in. It is a pity we were not old enough to appre- ciate it. I should like to give a party in a gorgeous house ; but of course I should not offend your princi- ples by inviting you." " Ah," Kate laughed, " that will be after you have married the rich man. Shall you recognize me in those days, Margery?" But Mrs. Brown's sharped-tongued little dinner-bell interrupted the castle-building. " Only say you forgive me, dear," urged Kate. " If I do, it is for the last time," said Margery, stiffly. "Of course you will never be called upon again. Did I not tell you I had erred for the last time?" "For this once, then," returned Margery, graciously. " You must tell me after dinner how His Serene High-, ness happened to escort you home; and, by the way, Kate, Aunt Ann told me this morning that Mr. Wiley would be delighted to have me practise on his piano." " I hope she did not ask the favor." "No. He inquired whether we played and she said I did, and then he offered. I mean to take advantage of it." " Do you ? " Kate's tone was doubtful, but her faith in herself had been shaken. She was meeker than Margery had expected. "Yes," replied the latter, firmly. "I shall begin to- morrow." On the Wednesday thereafter, when Kate returned from her round of lessons, she found Margery with every indication of news in he: expressive face. 210 NEXT DOOR. "Good," said Kate, "you have something amusing to tell me. Nothing has gone right to-day. I shall be grateful for a laugh." " Well, nothing has gone right here either," replied Margery, taking her sister's hat and cloak, and brim- ming over with a little chuckle of merriment. "I was sitting in the front window this afternoon when I noticed an elegant carriage pass. The horses shone so like satin, the harness was so fine, and the driver so scrupulously correct, that I heaved an awful sigh of envy as it passed. I was darning stockings, and I had scarcely turned my head back and begun on a new hole when lo and behold there was a sound in the street, 1 looked out, and there was the carriage again. Imagine my surprise when it stopped in front of this house. I drew back from the window, heard the bell ring, and in a minute up came Betty with a card for me. I seized it and read 'Mrs. John Exton.' Judge of my state of mind. I nearly fainted away. My first thought was that he had married, and his bride was down stairs ! " " Sensible," remarked Kate, as Margery made a dra- matic pause. " Very. I questioned Betty in the most wild-eyed manner as to the lady's personal appearance, and when I learned she had white hair I plucked up courage and went down stairs. Kate Stand ish, I suffered as much in the next five minutes as I ever did in my life. The parlor was being swept ! Betty had seated that ele- gant old lady in one of those nightmarish old rep MARGERY RECEIVES. 211 chairs close by the parlor floor where she had the full benefit of the turnips that were being cooked for dinner. There was a melee of old furniture pressing upon her from behind " "Oh!" exclaimed Kate, goaded beyond endurance, "I wished I was in the cellar! I wished I was on the top of the house ! I wished I was dead and. buried ! But there I was, very much alive and blush- ino- all over, face to face with Mrs. Exton. She looked ~ ' nearly as uncomfortable as I did ; and when she saw me, I knew instantly that she had expected to see you instead. "She bowed, and half rose. 'I excuse me, I wished to see Miss Standish,' she said. " ' My sister is out,' I replied. ' I am sorry. I am also very sorry that you should have been received here so uncomfortably.' " ' It is no matter,' she said, rising. ' I should be glad to have your sister call upon me if she can make it convenient. What is her first disengaged day?' " ' Saturday,' said I. '"Very well, I shall hope to see her then. Good afternoon,' and with that she went. There," and Margery leaned back in her chair and challenged her sister's amazement. " Oh, Margery ! " said Kate, her face flushed with annoyance. "You should have seen her clothes," observed Mar- gery, with the calmness of despair, " and her eyes, hei 212 NEXT DOOR. Bon's eyes, trying not to see our shabbiness; and hei nose, John Exton's nose, smelling our turnips! " " Margery," said Kate, earnestly, clasping her hands tightly in her lap, "here is a moral. I would not have you miss it for anything. This will surely bring you to agree with me. Had we not gone to Mrs. Farrar's. Mrs. Exton would never have disturbed our peace of mind. I am not ashamed of the way we must live." " Oh, no," exclaimed Margery, derisively. "But I do not care to have it sharply contrasted with other ways of living. You see for us to strain every nerve and manage to make good figures in soci- ety, only makes us a sort of impostors. How could Mrs. Exton imagine from my appearance at Mrs. Far- rar's that she should find me situated this way? It is mortifying," and Kate rose and crossed to her bureau with a repressed, restless air, and a glowing face. " Shall you go to see her Saturday ? " " Certainly." " What do you suppose she wants of you ? " " I shall be able to enlighten you Saturday even Ing." " It can't be teaching. Mr. Ingalls' mother was her only daughter. Perhaps it is something about John," added Margery, irrepressibly. Kate's delicate lip curled. " Couldn't you call him Jack?" she suggested. "We are such hail fellows well met with the whole family, it is foolish to stand n ceremony." MAKGERY RECEIVES. 213 "There is Aunt Ann, I know her step," cried Mar- gery, unabashed, running to open the door for the new- comer who brought an atmosphere of bright content with her. "I just ran in for a few minutes," said the latter, cheerily. "Ray has gone out of course, and Mr. Sharp and Mr. Wiley, too. Mr. Herring is reading there by the grate fire, and I thought, as long as Kits was willing to keep him company, I'd just come in for a cosey chat. Why, what is the matter, girls? You look as if you might have been spatting." " Oh, no," said Margery, virtuously, " Kate had just spatted me once when you came in. She is sorry for it now. That is what makes her look so sober." Kate turned with a smile to her aunt. " Sit down. We are always glad of your visits. Margery and I have been pin-pricked to-day, and we are smarting a little. Tell her about it, Margie." Aunt Ann listened to the tale and laughed in a heartily amused fashion that in itself did them both good. "You aren't going to make a trial out of that ? " she said. "Why, we were considering it seriously," replied Margery. "I never would," said Aunt Ann. "Mrs. Extcn Would probably be sorry to think you lived with folks that never swept. The old lady must have senst> enough to make allowances. I'm sure she has." "But the turnips," groaned Kate. "They were Hreadful when I came in." 214 NEXT DOOR. " There's nothing wicked about turnips, I hope," said Aunt Ann, mildly. " Oh, if you are going to judge everything by that standard ," observed Margery. " I don't know a better one." "Well, it is wicked to be an impostor," said Kate. "That is what Margery and I are if we affect in soci- ety to live nicely." " One thing is," said Margery, hopefully, " whatever Mrs. Exton came for, she was not discouraged by our surroundings. She might easily have gone away with- out leaving any message." %< You foolish girl, why should that please you?" asked Kate, scornfully. " What does she want of you, dearie ? " asked Aunt Ann. Kate shrugged her shoulders. " I do not know. I suppose she wishes me to sing for some charity. It will be something of that kind." "Or else she will order you never to allow her son to walk home from church with you again," said Mar- gery, mischievously. " You are in great danger, ac- cording to Madam Sevrance." " I am in no danger according to Madam Sevrance," returned Kate, coldly. " I am in the class below criti- cism." "How is that, Kate?" asked Aunt Ann. "Madam Sevrance says Mrs. Exton is very jealous \>f her son. She does not like him to be attentive to ladies, although she does not worry about girls lik MARGERY RECEIVES. 215 Afargery and me. Of course he very seldom meets with such ; but as circumstances would have it, he has met us, and Madam Sevrance evidently thought we needed a warning." It cost Kate something to make this statement,, but she was in a mood to be unsparing of herself. A glow of surprise and righteous indignation mounted slowly over Aunt Ann's face. Margery laughed out- right at its expression. " Count ten, Aunt Ann," she cried, warning! y. "The impudent critter!" exclaimed Miss Eaton. "How did she dare speak so to my girls! I like Mr. Exton ; he's a good honest feller ; but as to his being too good for either of you, why it's it's a lie." "Hear, hear!" cried Margery. "I should like to know what the woman means," continued Aunt Ann, much ruffled. "Beautifully brought up, beautifully educated, beautifully behaved girls ! Why I pooh ! I'd like to see H'm ! " Aunt Ann wandered off into incoherent mumblings. Kate smiled, and took the speaker's hand in both of hers. "Madam Sevrance thinks only too highly of us of me at least. I could tell you ever so many rea- sons for her belief, only it is not worth the exertion, and probably I should not convince you after all." "Why, you don't suppose Uncle John thinks that Way?" asked Aunt Ann, excitedly. "That he is too good for us? Oh, no, he probably floes not say it to himself in so many words," replied Kate. 216 NEXT DOOR. "Well, do you think he wouldn't marry you?" pui lued Aunt Ann, with unabated earnestness. "Mercy! Aunt Ann, don't talk so loud ! " exclaimed Margery, softly. "Somebody will hear you. We can't find out, you know, because it is not leap year; so do not get so excited." Aunt Ann seized her younger niece by the wrist. "You used to talk a string of nonsense about him," she said, as sternly as she was able. " Now I don't be- lieve, Margery Standish, that you care for that man." " Then you are very much mistaken," said Margery, obstinately. " Margery," said her aunt, " it isn't right for you to have any secrets from Kate and me." " I do not make much of a secret of it, I'm sure," returned the girl, raising her eyebrows. " Can't you see, Aunt Ann," said Kate, impatiently, "she would like to mislead us both." "It is not a matter to joke on," said Aunt Ann, sol- emnly. "I am very sorry for you, Margery, if you think it is. This matter of love is the greatest, most sacred subject in the world. Everything else circles around it, depends upon it. Let anybody pick up a story paper or a book. If his eye falls on a love pas- Bage, won't he feel a sudden interest in it ? No matter bow wise the reader may be, and how poor the story, it will hold the attention as long as it deals with that topic. It is the tremendous strength of the subjec' that folks feel without understanding it half the time The old, old story. Yes, I should think so : old as the MARGERY RECEIVES. 217 tvorld, and yet always new. Too many approach it in R joking way. Young folks are apt to think it's smart to make fun of it and sham indifference to it. If the time never comes when they feel otherwise, they are unfortunate indeed. Some folks with the best inten- tions make a mistake in. their love affairs. I did. But the worst mistake of all is to cultivate a joking, frivo- lous feeling about marriage. Don't let me hear you do it. It's wicked and it worries me." Kate kept her eyes down and patted the hand she held; Margery looked up, quite meek and a little frightened. "I do not love Mr. Exton at all," she said, gently. Aunt Ann kissed her cheek. "I thought so. Be careful that you never do, seeing lie is such an extraor- dinary mortal. No one will ever persuade me tLat he thinks so much of himself. He's too really fine to feel so." "He is, Aunt Ann," said Kate, quietly. "H*- is really fine." A BUSINESS OFFER. WHEN Saturday arrived, to the girls' infinite dift gust, a mixture of snow and rain descended, and the slushy streets and gray sky were of a similar color. "There goes my last opportunity of making a re- spectable impression," said Kate, looking out of the window, dismally. "I must take a veil, overshoes,, umbrella, and waterproof into Beacon Street. I shall remind Mrs. Exton of our dwelling ; but I don't care," turning suddenly on Margery, with her chin uplifted. " Did you suppose I did ? " " No, indeed," replied her sister. " I know you re- joice in it, Kate. Couldn't you carry a turnip in each hand, to intensify the association. It would be so honest and above-board, and make her sure we hadn't moved. I'm getting fearfully tired of Mrs. Brown's, Kate," continued the girl, plaintively. "Aunt Ann is such a perfect cook. It fairly makes me hungry te think of her table. Why can't we move in there ? " Margery made this bold demand with utter hope, iessness; but as soon as it had escaped her lips, she be- came sanguine. " Why, truly," she continued, " what A BUSINESS OFFER. 219 real reason is there why we couldn't? Don't gentle, men and ladies always board together?' 1 " Yes, in a boarding-house," said Kate, suavely. "Well?" "Well, that house belongs to the gentlemen wlio are living in it. I have not had an invitation to come O there." "Oh, I did not think of that," observed Margery. "Kate, it is an awful day," she added, as the window rattled. " Do have a coupe, for once." " No, my love," said the other, lightly. " Is it eleven o'clock yet? I'm going at eleven. I would rather go before lunch, as it is a business call." " Then it is time. I will get your things." Kate enveloped herself in her waterproof, and Map. gery adjusted her veil. " It is very fortunate for me to-day that my car- riage passes the door," said the former. " Now, then, I'm ready," and Kate gave herself one comprehensive glance in the mirror. " And you do not look like an impostor at all, dear, thanks to the weather," said Margery, soothingly. Arrived at the number on Beacon Street designated by Mrs. Exton's card, Kate was shown by a servant into a small reception-room. She had left her dripping umbrella in the vestibule, and she took off her water- proof and folded it wrong side out, before ventur- ing to sit down in one of the richly covered chairs. There was a pile of blazing logs in the fireplace, and i, large vase of roses on the mantel. 220 NEXT DOOR. This is his home. That was the girl's a thought. She tried to associate John Exton with the surroundings, and had seated him in every available spot in the room, to try his effect, before she realized what she was doing. Then she started, and frowned out of the window at the drizzling downfall, as seen between the curtains. It was after ten minutes of waiting that the servant returned and asked her if she would walk up stairs. She followed him to a room, the door of which stood open. Another open fire, more flowers, curtains half drawn ; Kate had time only to notice this, when Mrs. Exton spoke. " Walk in, Miss Standish. You were very good to come in spite of wind and weather. Baker, take Miss Standish's waterproof. Sit right here by me, please. This is one of the days when I must keep very quiet." "Then, perhaps, it is not convenient for you to see me. I can easily come again." Kate came close to her hostess, who was lying on a lounge, propped up with pillows, and shook the offered hand. " No, indeed, sit right down. Bodily quiet is all I need to-day. It will do me no harm to talk a little, quietly. The weather is so disagreeable and chilly, and I am a great sufferer from atmospheric changes. Close the door after you, Baker." " I was sorry not to be at home when you called," said Kate, taking the chair indicated. Somehow, now that she was face to face with Mrs. Exton, face to fsico rith the luxuries of a home into which money and A BUSINESS OFFER. 221 taste had brought every possible comfort and indul- gence, her own spirit and courage rose. The memory of Mrs. Exton's unfortunate visit seemed less, not more, crushing than it had done. This poor lady, her face white and her forehead wrinkled with fretting pain, drew out her tenderness and compassion, instead of exciting her awe. It was not half so dreadful to live in a house sometimes mismanaged and odorous, and to work for a decent living, as to lie here and suf- fer in the lap of luxury. "Yes, 1 regretted it also," rejoined the invalid, "but I somewhat expected not to find you, knowing you to be occupied away from home a part of the time. Have you a large class?" "Not very; but it is growing. Madam Sevrance encourages me to believe that it may grow as lar,ge aa I can manage. If you know her, you know she is a stanch friend. Of course I should have but a poor chance without her influence." " Yes, I know her. She taught my daughter a short time after her marriage. She was but little known here then, and my husband met her and took an inter- est in her. I think she is a very conscientious Ionian." " Oh, thoroughly so," replied Kate, warmly. " So she must believe you to be a good teacher, pise she wonld not recommend you." Mrs. Exton talked with her eyes roving to and from her visitor's face "Yes," replied the girl, simply, "she has take* 222 NEXT DOOR. great pains to make me a good teacher, and I hava studied hard." "Do you like the work?" Kate hesitated. "Yes," she said, after a moment, " probably better than any other that I could do." " I do not believe you like it." "Why should you think that, Mrs. Exton ?" "You are too much of a musician. You sing too Well. It must annoy you intolerably to meet with stupidity and the lack of all musical requisites such as exists in half of the girls who cultivate their voices." "It is annoying," said Kate, simply. "What of that? I have no right to expect an easy life." Mrs. Exton smiled. " That is the right spirit in which to fight the world's battles. Nevertheless, I have a proposition to make to you, which I trust you will not refuse. It cannot fail, I think, to give you an easier life than your present one. I want you to come and live with me. You look surprised. You think it is a sudden request coming from one who does not know you well. Your face is enough that is, your face and your voice together. Dismiss your pupils, retain your position in church, and make your home with rne. I dare say you never considered the subject of living as companion to any one, but you are exactly fitted for it. You speak deliciously, you move repose- fully, you sing remarkably. In a word, my heart is Bet upon you and I cannot take a refusal. I will pay you adequately." "Oh, Mrs. Exton!" exclaimed Kate, the sou's warn- A BUSINESS OFFER. 223 ing coming back upon her with sudden clearness. " 1 arn sorry to disappoint you " "You must not do it," interrupted the old lady. "I told you my heart is set upon it. I shall overcome any obstacle you choose to suggest." "You do not understand," said Kate, gently. "I am so sorry to be obliged to disappoint you, but I aave a sister. That young girl you met when you jame to see me is ray sister." " Yes," said Mrs. Exton, curtly. " I knew you had a sister. What difference need that make? Your aunt, I never can remember her name, Ray's house- keeper, can take her." Kate breathed faster and her color rose. "Would you advise that, Mrs. Exton? Do you think it would be well for my sister'to go into that masculine house- hold." "Oh, well perhaps not," returned the old lady, remembering Ray and his cordial partisanship; "but she is near by. Her aunt could look after her. There is no reason why she should stand in your light." " I cannot see that it is standing in my light to pre- vent my coming here. What future would such a life as you propose offer me ? " " Tt at would depend upon yourself. If you prove to be what I think you are, if you are of a good even temper, I should want to keep you with me as long as I live, and, in return for your devotion, I should give you a place in my will." 224 NEXT DOOB. Kate colored. She was filled with mingled sensa lions of indignation, gratitude, and astonishment. "It surprises me very much, Mrs. Exton," she said., after a pause, during which the old lady watched her closely, "to find that you are sufficiently pleased with me in this short time to induce you to make me such an offer." " That is my affair," said the other, with a tinge of hauteur which chilled Kate's effort at gentleness. " It is a purely business matter. You have attractions which I wish to purchase to brighten a lonely life. It is an entirely selfish transaction on my part." Kate smiled a little at the latter clause, as though perhaps she regarded it as superfluous. " Are you willing to make the bargain ? " pursued the invalid, with impatience. "It is impossible," said Kate. "If you understood, you would not ask me to leave Margery." " Well, you couldn't bring her," s;iid the other, quickly. " I cannot have young people, noisy young people, about." "Believe me, I did not consider such a thing," re- turned Kate, flushing. "But I must have you. I am too much alone, and one of these days my son will marry, and then there ought to be some one to help me bear it." "There are dozens of young ladies "began Kate, when the other interrupted her. "There is none for me but you," she said obsti nately. " It is very bad for me to be so excited. Miss A BUSINESS OFFER. 2CA Standish. I wish you would be reasonable and accept such a manifestly good offer as mine, good for you and good for me. Your sister would be better off. You could do more for her." "All this only makes it harder for us both," said Kate, firmly. " I cannot accede to your wishes, for many reasons. Nothing would induce me to leave Margery ; so you see that is obstacle enough, if there were no other." " How will it be when you marry ? " " Marriage does riot enter into my calculations." " Ah, that suits me," returned the other, in a grati fied tone. Kate bit her lip. "You speak as though you thought I should alter my mind and come to you." Mrs. Exton raised her eyebrows. " I do, in fact, feel certain of it." " You were never more mistaken," rejoined the girl, rising, her slim, round figure looking tall in its dark, close-fitting garments. " To tell you the ti-uth, I am entirely unwilling to sacrifice the independence of my life so far. I have not the patience, the equable tem- per you desire. At the same time," she added con* tritely, taking a step forward, " I should like to dc anything I can for you." "Indeed? After refusing- the only thing I ask?* rejoined the other. " You ask too much," said the girl, with quiet pride 14 1 will not give up an honorable profession to become a sort of upper servant to ar. invalid, thereby desert 22b NEXT DOOR. ing the sister who is all in all to me ; but I will conn here and sing to you or read to you whenever my en- gagements will allow me." " I am very tired. I will not detain you longer to. day," said the other, wearily, turning her head away on the pillow. Kate hesitated. "Can I get you anything?" she asked. "Or shall I speak to a servant as I go out?" " Do not trouble yourself. Excuse my lack of for- biality. Good morning." Kate waited a moment to see if the white face would turn to her once more; but as there was no movement, she said "good morning," took her water- proof and left the room, oppressed with a bewildered sense of injustice. At the foot of the staircase, she came face to face with John Exton on his way up to his mother's room. The excitement in the girl's coun- tenance did not escape him. "Miss Standish, you have been with my mother." " Do persons always leave her presence in a tearful condition? Is that the way you know?" asked Kate, passing her hand across her eyes with an impatient movement. "I apologize for her humbly," he replied. " What can I get for you, do for you, Miss Standish?" for Kate was looking about vaguely. " Oh, I remember," she said; "I left my umbrella in the vestibule." Mr. Exton felt awkwardly, deeply, distressed. It was lunch time, and his mother was letting this guest A BUSINESS OFFER. 227 go inhospitably, and with an arrow of unkindness in her breast. "I wish I knew " he began. Kate cast a flashing glance up at him. "You did know. You knew what she was going to ask, and you allowed it." " But you refused," he said, eagerly. She gave him a little scornful smile. "Did you think I needed to be warned to refuse to leave Mar. gery?" she asked. " Ah, I forgot Margery ! " he exclaimed. " I thought so," she replied, and moved toward thft door. "It is storming harder than ever, Miss Standish," he Raid, with his hand on the door-handle. "I will ring for my carriage. It is all ready. I have just come home in it." " No, indeed, I would much rather go in the car." " But you detest street cars." "And your carriage also to-day, I fear, Mr. Exton." "Miss Standish, what did she say to you? I know Bhe is wilful, imperious; but how has she hurt you?" Kate looked at him with an effort at self-possession Her lips trembled, and she burst into tears. Exton irew her into the little reception-room, and closed the door. His hold on her arm recalled her self-control. She moved away from him and held her handkerchief to her eyes, but was perfectly quiet. "You do not know I cannot tell you how I re- gret this," he said, feeling more helpless than ever in S28 NEXT DOOR. his life before. Then he stood silent, surveying the graceful figure and drooping head. In a minute, to his infinite relief, Kate looked up with the ghost of her sweet smile. He took her hand again and came a step nearer. " This will do me good," she said with broken cheeriness. " What ? " he asked, looking into her eyes eagerly. " Why, that little cry." "Oh, yes, I see. The little cry," he repeated vaguely. Kate looked down at his hand before she drew hers away. What if the invalid above stairs should sud. denly become clairvoyant ! "Yes, I think it has cleai-ed the atmosphere," she said, releasing her hand. " Your mother is very much vexed with me, too much so to accept any offer I can make her, but she may feel differently later; and if ever she wants me to sing for her or to do anything that I can do, please remember that I will come." "You are very kind. I suppose she has not de- served it. You have discovered that so far as you are concerned your intuition regarding her was correct." " I must go," said Kate, turning abruptly. " And you will not have the carriage, even to oblige me?" " I am not in an obliging mood," returned the girl. Mr. Exton put her waterproof about her shoulden Mid opened the door for her. " You are not where are you going?" she asked, A BUSINESS OFFER. 221* pausing, for he had taken his hat from the table in passing. " I am going with you to the cars." " Please don't. It is your lunch time." "It is yours too. We will be fellow-sufferers since fate orders it so." The storm had abated by the time Kate reached Berkshire Street. She found Aunt Ann with her basket of socks, sitting with Margery, and the two looked up expectantly as Kate walked in. "Had your lunch?" they exclaimed in a breath. " Yes, indeed." " What did you have ? " asked Margery, with in- tense interest. " Ham and fried rice. Bread and butter and prunes." "Do you mean you lunched here?" demanded Mar- gery, justly incensed. " Of course ; just now." " Well, that was polite of Mrs. Exton, after keeping you so long. What did she want you for. We've been guessing, Aunt Ann and I," continued the girl, briskly, relieving her sister of the wraps she carried over her arm. "I guessed simply that she had taken a fancy to you and wanted you to come and see her, and Aunt Ann guessed oh, how furious you would b( if you knew what Aunt Ann guessed," and Mar- gery laughed a laugh of utter enjoyment, while Aunt Ann shook a sock at her and frowned. "Is it an el house, Kate?" 230 NEXT DOOR. "Very," replied the other, drawing a chair close to Aunt Ann, with plain intent to assist her. "All right, Kate, if you want to help," said Aunt Ann, pulling over the contents of the basket. "Xo, DO, don't take that ; it's Mr. Herring's. It does beat all how that man pounds through his heels. There's one of Ray's, that won't try your patience. So it's a fine house, you say." "Very," repeated Kate, selecting her needle and cotton. " Don't be monosyllabic," said Margery, impatiently, "just as if you were a man. Tell us about it." " Well, I was ushered first into a little room all fire and Jacqueminots; then I was taken up stairs into Mrs. Exton's room." "Well, that was friendly," said Aunt Ann, beaming pleasantly over her spectacles. " Does it favor your guess, Aunt Ann ? " asked Kate, smiling at her work. "Yes, yes, that's about what she'd do, ain't it, Mar- gery?" and Aunt Ann winked furtively at her younger niece. " Wait," said Margery, " my guess was right." " No, it was not," remarked Kate, quietly. " Mrs. Exton is much of the time an invalid, and she wants a companion ; some one to live with her, amuse her, read to her, sing to her, and above all," added Kate, looking up into Aunt Ann's eyes, " to help her to beat her loneliness when her son is married." " Is the feller engaged ? " exclaimed Aunt Ann. A BUSINESS OFFER. 231 "I don't know, but Mrs. Exton wanted me to be ihat companion." "You don't say so!" ejaculated Miss Eaton, but Margery stared and turned pale. Kate held a hand out to her. " Comical, wasn't it, dear?" Oh, Kate ! " Kate laughed softly, and her eyes, full of quick tears, looked tenderly into her sister's. "Not such a bad offer," said Aunt Ann, practl cally. " No, indeed," said Kate. " She promised to pay me well and to remember me in her will." Aunt Ann dropped her hand, loosely enveloped in Mr. Herring's sock. "You don't say so!" she ejaculated. "In other words she offered to adopt you." Kate laughed, and the sound brought the color back to Margery's face. " Not a bit of it, my dear aunt," she said, gayly. " She was careful to make me under- stand that it would be purely a business arrange- ment." " Well, what did you say?" " That I could not leave Margery." " Why, I could have taken Margery," said Aunt Ann, simply. Kate bit her lip. Was it true that there was a pos- sibility that duty lay in so repugnant a path, and that ihe was shirking it under a mistaken idea? A glance p at Margery reassured hex. E32 NEXT DOOR. " Would you have liked to do it ? " asked the latten In a subdued way. "I can think of nothing that I should like less," said Kate, honestly. " Oh, all right then," said Margery, drawing a long breath. " How did Mrs. Exton take your refusal." " Very ill. She very nearly refused to take it at all. Do not let us talk about it, I am glad it is over." " H'm," said Aunt Ann. "I guess, from what Ray says, the old lady's pretty high-headed. I shouldn't wonder, Kate, but what you'd had enough of her already." "Well," said the girl, smiling and raising her eye- brows, " I must say that provided you were an old lady and needed such a thing, Aunt Ann, I should rather be your companion than Mrs. Exton's." Aunt Ann laughed in a pleasant, low fashion she had. "I'm an old lady now," she said, driving her darning needle briskly in and out. Ho! " said Kate. "Aunt Ann, I call that fishing." CHAPTER XXI. AUNT ANN OPENS HER HEART. SPRIXG had come. Although nothing in nature cor- roborated the fact, the almanac asserted it, and there was comfort in that. Aunt Ann began to think wi3t> fully of her little farm; and many and long were the hai'animes which Kits listened to on the text, "There's O ' no place like home." One evening her family had scattered to their vari- ous engagements, and she sat by the lamp in the parlor reading the paper. Kits had his favorite place on the rug, and the fire leaped and crackled gayly. It was a cosey and comfortable situation ; but Aunt Ann's face did not express its usual placid content. She sat with her elbow resting on Margery's table-scarf, and allowed her paper to slip down to the floor 'unnoticed, while her eyes looked miles away into the sitting-room at home. Ray Ingalls entered the room, and aroused her from her reverie. "Why, Ray," she said, looking up kindly, "is it possible you ain't going out to-night?" "Yes, I believe I won't go out," replied the new- comer, rather wearily. " Certainly not if you are going to be alone." 233 234 NEXT DOOE. " I don't mind it, my dear. I am often alone here with Kits in the evening. Don't stay in for me, will you?" Ray pulled a chair toward the fire, and flung him- self into it. " I don't know, though, but what I ought to urge you to rest a little more," she continued, scrutinizing hia face with some concern. " Seems to me you're looking sort o' lantern-jawed, Ray. I think all this dissipation is too much for you." " Well, it is nearly over now," said the young fellow, M and I'm willing. I don't care for it." " That's queer, too, at your age," mused Aunt Ann. " But it's the spring o' the year, and most likely you're bilious. It's surprising how it affects a body's spirits. If you'd just let me give you a little something, Ray," added Aunt Ann, persuasively. " I wish you would, I'm sure." "Well, now, you're a good boy," she replied, in pleased surprise. " Boneset's the thing, you may be Bure ; I'll get some to-morrow." " No, it isn't," said Ray, with rather a gloomy smile. " Heart's-ease would be better." " They don't make tea of that," rejoined Aunt Ann, quickly. "No, I don't believe they do." " Oh, I see what you're driving at," said the other, watching him with a shyer interest. " You think your trouble is of the mind." " The trouble is that I am in love, Aunt Ann, an ably, in the dingy room, and, hurrying toward him, gave him her hand. "Thank you, Miss Standish," he said, respectfully, "for seeing me. I am fortunate to find this room empty, because I wished very much to speak with you in private." They both sat down, Kate never removing her targe, questioning eyes from his face. " I do not know whether your sister has told you." He paused interrogatively. " She has told me nothing." " I have asked her to marry me," said Ray, simply. Kate started and drew back from him involuntarily. \ hundred incidents thronged into her mind and explained themselves in the white light of this knowl edge. UNCLE AND NEPHEW. 2 7 3 **I am here neither refused nor accepte^ until you ieci.le." " Did she leave it to me?" asked the girl. " Not exactly ; but she stated some obstacles to our marriage, which I am removing. One was the dis- favor of my family." " Of course," said Kate, with breathless eagerness. " Which proved a mere man of straw," added Ray, waving his hand. " I have the cordial approval of my uncle, and my grandmother sends her love to Mar- gery, with full consent to our marriage, on a condition which, if it proves agreeable to you, will remove aU your sister's objections." " What do you mean ? " " Margery firmly refused to leave you alone." "And Mrs. Exton's condition?" asked Kate, grow- ing very pale. " Is that you should make your home with her." Kate half rose from her chair, with a wild instinct of flight, then sank back. "Neither of us would want to be selfish ; neither of us would wish to stand in the way of the other's happiness." She had not paid much attention to Margery when she said this; but now the words came back to her vividly, with an accompanying understanding of her sister's thoughts. " Wait, Mr. Ingalls," she said, faintly, for Ray had jumped up with the vague idea of ringing a bell and getting some water. "I am not ill. Wait one minute while I think." Ray seated himself, watching her, half puzzled, half 274 NEXT BOOK. remorseful. He supposed it was the thought of part ing with Margery that had so agitated her. " That is the only condition on which Mrs. Exton consents?" she said, after a moment. "Yes. Her feeling would not be of particulai importance to me but that she holds my property until I am twenty-five." " Ah ! " Kate thought fast. On one side was her freedom and Margery's sacrifice. On the other, a weary, confining routine, and the unspeakable trial of being under the same roof with John Exton at the latter thought she lowered her head as though a physi- cal burden had descended upon it ; but on that side, too, lay Margery's happiness. Dear little Margery, kept so long on prison fare and now beckoned into a life in all ways congenial, with the man she loved ! Slowly Kate lifted her head, breathing a deep and uncontrollable sigh. " I will do it," she said, meeting Ray with her quiet gaze ; " but be careful not to speak of it to Margery." "Thank you, Miss Standish," he exclaimed, fer- vently. " I will make her as happy as I can, believe me." "Do you understand ? " she said, unheeding him, "Margery must know nothing of this condition." "I understand," he replied, nodding with joyful alacrity. "She had better believe her welcome to be unhampered by conditions. When may I see her?" " Whenever she likes, after to-night." Kate and Ray followed her example. UNCLE AND NEPHEW. 275 ** T am afraid you will find it hard to forgive me," fre said, triumphant happiness in his eyes. " A little at first," she replied, with a brave at- tempt at an answering smile. "You know we " a Bob rose in her throat and choked her utterance ; and, although she still looked at him, she saw nothing for tears. He pressed her hand, and departed with merciful promptness. Kate stood still a minute, resolutely battling for her self-control. She pressed her handkerchief lightly to her eyes, and opened a book on the discolored marble table. It was a copy of Scott's poems, in dis- tressingly fine print. She opened to Marmion and read a few lines at random. Then she moved out into the hall and started up stairs. When she reached the top the rebellious tears had overflowed again, and ehe stole lightly down half way, and stood there dry- ing them, and breathing a little prayer for strength. A second time she ascended and hurried down the narrow hall and into the room. Margery was sitting there idle, and evidently expectant. She looked up, and saw Kate standing, an arch expression in her eyes, and a tender smile on her lips ; so beautiful and loy^ ing, that Margery, in her relief, and love, and remorse, started up, and flung her arms around her neck : " Oh, Kate, I couldn't help it ! " she exclaimed, and burst into a passion of sobs. Kate held and soothed her, her own shining 'eyei looking over her sister's bowed head, away into spacer 876 NEXT DOOR. " But you know I wouldn't leave you for anything You know it, don't you, Kate ? You know I never thought of it for an instant," she said, brokenly, aa Boon as she could speak. " What great nonsense, dear ! " returned the other, cheerfully. " Of course you won't leave me ; at least, not for very long at a time. I should not think of allowing it. Ray is going to have a case of sister-in- law which will far outdo all the proverbial mothers-in- Jaw. Who knows but what it will mercifully start a Hew subject for newspaper ridicule ? " " But I am not going to marry him," said Margery, holding her sister off by both arms, and facing her expectantly. " Yes, you are, dear ; it is all right. They all want you Uncle John, and grandmother, and everybody. That is what Ray came in to tell me." The color spread over Margery's face and throat. " Oh, I can't leave you," she said, in a low voice that trembled ; but not, Kate felt, at the prospect of the coming separation. "Do not speak of that any more. It is crossing such nn unnecessary bridge. Think rather of how many pleasures you and Ray will give me." " But how wonderful that they are willing, Kate, the Extons." " They have much better taste than I supposed,' answered the other. Margery hid her face again in her sister's neck *Oh," she whispered, " it is too good to be true," UNCLE AND NEPHEW. 277 " It is not too good for you, my darling," murmured Kate. " Nothing could be too good for my little Bister." But long after Margery had fallen into a happy slumber, Kate lay with fixed, sleepless eyes, looking into her own future, re-adjusting every thought hope, and summoning courage to meet it. CHAPTER XXIV. KATE'S DIPLOMACY. *I AM going to tell Aunt Ann about it," she an pounced brightly to Margery, the following morning. "Do you remember when we were children how anxious each of us was to be the first to tell a bit of news? We were always saying, 'I choose to tell' this or that. Very well, I choose to tell Aunt Ann." Margery laughed. " I hope you will find it is news to her; but I imagine Ray has confided in her. She has tried to be very wise and cautious; but she has said enough lately to make me suspect that he has been working on her sympathies." A note was handed Margery as she was leaving the breakfast table. It said, Will you take a walk with me this evening. RAT. Margery's answer was biief enough to be the soul of vit. It was, Yes. MARGEKY. To-night would settle it, Kate knew, and it must be the business of the leisure hours of her day to stop np every loophole through which Margery's happinesn toight escape. 278 KATE'S DIPLOMACY. 279 She went first to the next house. Aunt Ann was Surprised to receive so rare a visitor so early in the morning; but she shook her head as she greeted Kate. "My dear, you find me in trouble," she said. "Kits has been fighting. Such a terrible noise as I heard in the night, but I little thought Kits was in it until this morning when he came in looking worse than any tramp, his necktie torn off of him, his eye all closed up. Oh ! It's time we were off to the country. Kits has got into bad company. I've talked to him and shut him up, and I hope he feels as bad as he looks. Well, dear, what's brought you so early. I can't flatter myself you've only come to visit me." "That is all. When an event of importance occurs in the family it has to be talked over," said Kate. " I have only come to talk it over." "Ray and Margery," ejaculated Aunt Ann, out of whose head Kits' misdemeanors had driven this ro- mance. "Of course. I can see by your face that it is all right. It is a good match for Margery, I think. I am as pleased as a child over it. I didn't quite know how you'd take it, though, about living with the old lady. I'd have liked first-rate to have had you come right with me and kept you always, only Cedarville is no place for you." " Yes- it is," replied Kate, wistfully, the cheerful light less bright in her face. "With without Mar- gery to work for," she added, with an effort, " I think my ambition would have oozed out and nothing would ,280 NEXT DOOR. have pleased me so well as to creep off into the country with you. But that is not to be." " No, and a very good thing too," said Aunt Ann, earnestly; "there's no field there for you. You will stay in the city and be both useful and ornamental." " Yes, in Mrs. Exton's sick-room. "Well, that is settled ; only I think, Aunt Ann, if Margery knew it, it would that plan might annoy her." "Why, no, child. She would be glad you would have such a good safe home until such a time as you got married yourself." " I do not think she would look at it in that way, and then, don't you see, she must not think that Mrs. Exton will only receive her on a condition. You see that?" " Surely, I didn't think of that." " So you will be very careful not to say anything about my prospect of living with Mrs. Exton ? " per- sisted Kate. " Yes, I will. I'm glad you spoke of it. Don't you go to forgetting your poor relations when you come to be the young lady of that fine house," said Aunt Ann, jocosely. "Mrs. Exton is so fond of you that little by little you'll come to be the head. I see all how it's going to be." " Lend me your spectacles," said Kate, rising to go. " Oh, sit down, child. There is so much I want to ask you about Margery nnd Ray. You see I've beea inspecting this thing a good while." KATE'S DIPLOMACY 281 " I cannot wait, Aunt Ann. This is a busy day with ine, and I must hurry." " I hope this new arrangement isn't going to cheat me out of my visit from you girls this summer." " I hope not ; but as yet nothing is settled. We shall know in a few days whether plans must be much changed. Good-bye," and Kate took her leave. The smiling and matter-of-fact manner which had served her through that interview would not be needed during the next visit. Kate's face when she rang the ~ O bell of the Extons' house was not a mask, and it did not put on so much as a smile when she was ushered into Mrs. Exton's sitting-room, where the old lady was leaning back in her arm-chair, enjoying the morning sunlight, and looking at a newspaper, while a breakfast tray stood by her elbow. She dropped the paper and held out her hand to the girl graciously. " How fortunate that you should come this morning," she said. " This is an unusually good day with me. I believe I have entered upon another respite from suffering, and may hope to go about a little again. It is mournful business, nursing one's self, Miss Standish." " I am glad you are better," said Kate, seating her- self, after taking the languid hand. "I should have been sorry to find you unable to talk, for I want to ask you what it is that you wish me to do." Mrs. Exton colored under her visitor's tone and manner. She was accustomed to much petting and 282 NEXT DOOR. adulation from such feminine callers as she saw fit to receive. Who was Kate that she should not be moved to tenderness and admiration by the sight of the inva- lid's soft white curls, and the light blue ribbons of her white flannel wrapper? It was hard, cruel, in the girl to let her hostess see that she felt herself a victim of selfishness. Mrs. Exton hardly knew how to meet such indelicacy. As there ensued a pause of several seconds' duration, Kate continued, "Mr. Ingalls understood that you gave your consent to his marriage with my sister only on condition that I abandoned my work and came here to devote my time to you." Kate's tone was neither angry nor spite- ful, but it smote her listener with the first sensation of shame which had assailed her for many a year. "Was he right?" "You choose to put it in a very disagreeable manner, Miss Standish. Of course such a change of plan must not occur against your will," returned the invalid, firmly entrenching herself, after the momentary abase- ment, behind the bulwark of her pride. " You know it is against my will," burst forth Kate, impulsively. "Why do you say that? You pretended that your sister was the obstacle to your coming. If that was simply pretence, say so, and leave me. After all that has occurred between us, one of two things must happen : you must accept the offer which I have gone out of my way to urge upon you, and which is the best you will ever receive from anybody ; or else you KATE'S DIPLOMACY. 233 must refuse it once for all, and never come here to ex- cite and worry me again." Kate's lips parted eagerly. Oh, the glorious thought of escape ! " And Margery ? " she asked. Mrs. Exton waved her hand, and the hard look which Kate had already learned stole over her face. " I have nothing to do with Miss Margery," she answered, with slighting coldness. The color flamed into the girl's face and receded as suddenly. It required all her strong love for her sister to hold back the torrent of protest and reproach that sprung from her beating heart. She kept silence a moment, then : " I see," she said quietly, although there was a trem- bling in her voice. " You have calculated on my wil- lingness to promote Margery's happiness, and you were right. I said, you know, when I came in, that I wanted to understand just what you wished of me. My mind is made up to accept your condi your offer." " Well, I am glad, I am sure," responded the other, with a bow of languid condescension. " I have no doubt that we shall get on most excellently together. Of course you will have to finish your term of teach- fog," " Certainly. Of course, too, I shall have to get Margery ready to be married. I cannot leave her until after her wedding." Kate bit her lip sharply to make certain that the whole was not a dream. The .dea of talking thus calmly with Mrs. Exton about S^nrgery's wedding! 284 NEXT DOOR. "Yes," said the other, meditatively. "Of course that is only right. I have thought of a plan but I will not speak of it now, it may not be feasible. I think the wedding had better be in the early fall," she added, dispassionately, "so you can get settled com- fortably here for the winter, and also that the young people may take their voyage at a pleasant season." "What voyage?" asked Kate, mechanically. " I think they will go abroad for a year or more." "Who?" "Why, the bride and groom," returned Mrs. Exton, with some impatience. " Ray wishes it, and I approve strongly." " Oh ! " said Kate. So they had been talking it over. Others had now the right to plan for Margery. They were going to take her away across the sea for an in- definite time. It was all so sudden and she was so helpless. She looked at Mrs. Exton. That querulous, pale face, with its anxious lines, was to be her constant companion now instead of Margery's, loving, hopeful, young, the sunshine of Kate's life. She rose suddenly in the unendurable stress of feeling. "I my morning is full of engagements," she said, recovering herself. " I must go." Mrs. Exton gave her a thin, faint smile. " Come and see me again when you can. We have not made our business arrangements yet." " Oh, plenty of time for that," replied Kate, hur. riedly. " Mrs. Exton," she added, suddenly bethink. ing herself, " I do not want Margery to know that 1 KATE'S DIPLOMACY. 285 propose coming here. I have reasons ; I cannot tell ," ghe hesitated. "You need fear nothing from me," returned the other, a trifle disdainfully. "I thought perhaps your son, " suggested Kate. " He knows nothing of it," said the old lady, shortly, " and I have no intention of discussing the subject with him. My son's home is very dear to him, Misa Stundish. You will not misunderstand me when I sny that the thought of a stranger entering our circle has always been an unpleasant one to him. I only men- tion it to make the more emphatic my gratitude at having found a person like yourself who will always know of her own intuition when, and when not, to be one of us." Kate stood, tall and pale, her eyes cast down. When her companion finished speaking, she looked up. "Thank you for your confidence," she said, with a little bitter-sweet smile. "I trust if I should evet abuse it you will feel at liberty to recall me to a sense of my position." Mrs. Exton looked with some doubt at the door when her visitor had closed it after her, and pondered over the interview. For Kate, she felt the beating of pulses in her head as she ran down the stone steps into the street. " Oh, Margery," she thought, "my darling Margery! Is Uiere any doubt that I love yea?" CHAPTER XXV. IN THE COUNTRY. IT was the end of June. The blue sky that shoae above Berkshire Street seemed to speak to Kate of other scenes, more congenial,, upon which it was smiling. Brick blocks and cobble-stones grew weari- some. She wanted the country, and green grass, and the song of the wild bird, and Margery. She had an idea that if she could carry Margery off to Cedar- ville, to a Paradise into which the serpent, alias Ray Ingalls, could not penetrate every evening in the week, she might have one more little season of happy companionship with her before the final wrench of separation. Aunt Ann had gone weeks before, quite disap- pointed to leave Margery behind, but the girl was frank in her preference for pavements over green fields, under existing circumstances, and flatly refused to leave Boston until Kate's engagements were over. There was an end of Margery's protestations against dulness, against poverty, against Mrs. Brown's back room and Mrs. Brown's table. The world had suddenly righted itself, and was whirling her on day 286 IN THE COUNTRY. 287 by day to great and greater happiness. Mr. Exton had been in the West on business for several weeks, and Ray lived at the house on Beacon Street, whence he descended every evening to the vicinity of his old home, and rang the bell of the once proscribed house, with the assurance of a welcome visitor. Such lists of things to buy and to make as Kate and Margery discussed ! Such piles of work as lay eut out in that little back room ! But Margery was a witch with her needle and her sewing-machine, and the taste and judgment of both girls were sensible, so the preparations for the simple trousseau were made smoothly and swiftly. The time was drawing near when they were to leave for' Cedarville. "You know, Margery," said Kate, one day, trying to console her sister for the coming parting, " it will be such a nice place to accomplish our sewing, so quiet and free from interruption. You will not miss Ray nearly so much as you fear, I am sure." Margery shook her head. "No, indeed, that is all right," she returned, " Ray finds he can spend his two weeks' vacation down there with us. Didn't I tell you? I must have forgotten." Kate's countenance fell. "Oh, can he?" she said, trying not to let her disappointment be patent. Mar- gery frequently forgot to mention things to her .of uite. The new confidant eclipsed the old ; but Kate bore it all with wondrous patience and docility. Would any happiness suffice her if Margery were not eontent? Then should she not be philosophical 88 NEXT DOOR. enough to accept Margery's happiness instead of he! own ? It seemed very simple to Kate in theory, only sometimes the actual walking of her path was rough md thorny. She said now to herself, with the resolute determina- tion to make the best of things, " Margery is pre- paring me for the change. The dear child doesn't know it, but she is saying and doing the very things that are best for me." But Margery received a letter from Aunt Ann one day about now that proved a veritable bomb-shell, threatening to blow into pieces every peaceful and happy prospect of the summer. " My dear Margery," it read, " I am delighted to think the time is so near when I shall see you and Kate again. Isn't it queer that Mrs. Exton should be BO set on coining here? I have told her just how plain we are, but she insists ; and no doubt it's all for the best, for she will get acquainted with you and find Dut what a darling grand-daughter she's going to have. She says she and her maid will come with you and Kate. You ought to see how glad Kits is to be home. I believe he's climbed every tree on the place. He " Margery dropped the letter and looked in surprise nnd dismay at Kate. The latter's eyes were glowing and her lips compressed. "What a shame!" cried Margery, but not with much feeling. Her thoughts at once wandered to the fearful interest of meeting her prospective relative IN THE COUNTRY. 289 So fai Mrs. Exton had sent civil messages by Ray, but she had always made some excuse for not receiv- ing his fiancee. Margery quaked a little at the present prospect, but she was not without a certain pleasant excitement in it until she realized the effect of the news upon Kate. The fire died from the latter's eyes, and she picked .up her sewing without a word. " I don't see why you should turn white over it, Kate. She likes you. Now, if it had only been you whom Ray had fallen in love with." Kate looked up. " It is like the nightmare," she said. " I wanted to be alone with you, Margery, a little while." "Well we are certainly not going to be with her" returned Margery, with a little stirring of hurt pride. " She is nothing to us until she chooses to be some- thing." But on the way to Cedarville Mrs. Exton did choose to be graciousness itself. She listened to Mar- gery, and accepted her attentions with such gratitude as a duchess might show. Kate scarcely spoke half a dozen words during the day, and Mrs. Exton asked nothing of her. It was an undoubted relief to the whole party when Aunt Ann's cheery welcome amalgamated its diverse elements. Whatever variety of opinion there might be among the travellers, they were united in delight at the pleasant aspect of Aunt Ann's little farm, with its elms and its brook, its orchard surrounded by a 290 NEXT DOOR. stone wall, and the hill that rose behind the house td keep off the north winds. " Your home breathes of peace," said Mrs. Exton to Aunt Ann, growing complimentary in her pleasure at finding that her maid could have a small room open- ing directly from her own. " How long it will breathe of peace," said Aunt Ann, as soon as she found herself alone with her nieces, "nobody can tell. Why, girls, why didnit you tell me she had a dog? Whatever Kits will say, I don't know." " It is pretty safe to prophesy," returned Margery, laughing ; " but we didn't know anything about hei dog until it was taken out of the baggage car." " It is no use to cry over spilt milk," observed Kate, " but why in the world, dear Aunt Ann, did you con- sent to take her? " " Well," returned Aunt Ann, somewhat staggered, "I guess its because I'd always rather have a tooth out than say 'No.' I begin to mistrust I did wrong," she added, quite weighed down by the sudden cer- tainty of disapproval on the part of Kits and Kate. " She's been sort of high-headed through it all, there didn't seem to be any other way, unless I'd said flat out, * I don't want you, ma'am,' and perhaps if I'd known about that black-faced puppy I should have had strength to say it. One thing I thought, Kate," with sudden hopefulness, "she's so fond of yow, that teemed a reason for taking her." "No reason at all, Aunt Ann," observed Margery, IN THE COUNTRY. 91 gayly. " I think if Kate ever hated anybody, it is my prospective grandparent, and I am as afraid of her as I can be myself. You should have seen Kate all day, leaning her head beside the window and looking off into space, and acting generally like a deaf mute. Nothing Molly did, that is the maid, seemed to suit; BO I had to come to the rescue, and I've been my very sweetest all the way down. If she don't like me now ehe never will." "Well, now, Kate," said Aunt Ann, "you're her favorite, and when you know what she " Kate made a quick gesture of warning. "How kind of you to give us this room," she interrupted, suddenly . "What a view it must have when the apple trees are in bloom." " I am coming here to spend every summer of my life if you will let me," added Margery, enthusias- tically, going to the open window and letting her happy young eyes rove over the charming afternoon landscape. "Ray is corning next week, Aunt Ann." "He can't. I haven't a place to put him," said Aunt Ann, desperately. " Oh, nonsense," said Margery, turning and passing an arm around the other's neck. "What an answer for a dear creature that can't say 'No.'" "I'm never going to say anything else hereafter," Baid Aunt Ann, firmly. " I tell you there ain't a room left in the house. Margery, I'm in earnest, and now don't you let him tease me, because you know if he does I shall say, 'Land, yes, you can come just ae 292 NEXT DOOR. well as not,' and there ain't a place unless I turn out and give him ray own bed." Margery laughed, and hugged her. " Then we will find a place in somebody else's house," she answered. Aunt Ann started. " Don't I hear that Daddy, or whatever his name is ? " she exclaimed. " Dandy ? " suggested Margery. "Yes. He's barking, ain't he? Oh, how will I ever face Kits ! " " I imagine he is a good-natured little thing," sug- gested Margery, comfortingly. "Mrs. Exton lovea him. She talked about him ever so much, coming down." At tea time that night the two pets collided. The family were at table. Mrs. Exton, to whom the change of scene had apparently already brought ben- efit, was present. A door leading from the dining- room to a piazza stood open, and it was through this open door that the assembled quartette were able to witness the tragedy. Their attention was first attracted by a portentous hissing and spitting on the part of Kits. They looked up with one accord. There he stood, truly a gigantic cat with his arched back and bristling tail. The very bows of his shining blue ribbon seemed to rise angrily. Opposite him was Dandy, in all the glory of extra wrinkles and moles, tbe smuttiest of noses and toe nails, the tightest of tails, the daintiest of red collars tinkling with silver bells. Dandy's experience BO far in life had led him to be nothing if not confid- ing. With his head on one side, he, in the face of IN THE COUNTRY. 293 the paralyzed audience, danced gayly up to Kits, who quick as a flash raised his paw and inflicted a vicious scratch on the soft, black face. " Ki yi," yelled Dandy, and ran for his life, his tail hanging limp. " Ha ! ha ! " hissed Kits, and fled up a tree. Mrs. Exton and Aunt Ann rose from the table with one accord. "Madam!" said the former, sternly. "Madam, yourself ! " returned Aunt Ann, her cheeks pink with excitement. Margery began to laugh irrepressibly. "Aunt Ann, you must order Kits to apologize to Dandy," suggested Kate, willing to make peace. "I should like to know why," asked Aunt Ann. "Kits didn't invite any dog to come down here." " You will please me very much by shutting up your cat in future, Miss Eaton," said Mrs. Exton, swelling with a sense of outrage. "I shall do nothing of the kind, ma'am," returned Miss Eaton, promptly : " but I will give you the free use of the barn chamber for your dog. * 'Tis dogs delight to bark and bite,' and they hadn't ought to be let run loose anyway." " I am surprised at such a speech from a woman who keeps a wild cat on her place, a great ferocious brute who will attack a gentle creature like Dandy, who never bit anybody." "Mrs. Exton, I think neither you nor Aunt Ann will Uave any further trouble with your pets," said Kate. 294 NEXT DOOR. " Dandy will keep out of Kits' way hereafter, you may be sure." " If he lives at all," said Mrs. Exton, impressively. "Excuse me, and I will get Molly to search for him." "I'll hunt him up myself," said Aunt Ann, brusquely, pushing her chair back from the table. " Excuse me," said Mrs. Exton again, this time stretching out her thin, white hand with a queenly gesture. " After the hatred you have expressed, I should feel safer if you did not touch the poor little creature." Aunt Ann gave a grunt of impatience. " Well, I'll go get the Pond's Extract bottle. It'll likely be the best thing to rub on." There was quite a search, in which all finally joined, and Mrs. Exton had gone into hysterics before the pug was found ; but finally, up in the orchard behind a fallen tree, he was discovered, a very forlorn and dis- illusioned little dog, meditating upon the hollowness of the world, and licking his ridiculous face where the deep scratch was still bleeding slightly. Margery picked him up and carried him to the house, patting him and comforting him all the way, and she received her first kind look from the dog's weeping mistress in return for depositing him in her arms. She stayed and helped apply the Pond's Ex- tract, and Aunt Ann left the house arid went out unde? the tree among whose upper boughs Kits was still iu retirement. IN THE COUNTRY. 295 "Come down, Kits," she said, trying not to speak too kindly. No movement. " Kits, Kits, Kits ! " she called. Kits mewed and stirred. "Come, Kits," she said again; and the cat came daintily stepping down, occasionally mewing. " Kits, you know how I talked to you about fighting in Boston," she said, lifting him up on her hip and looking into his face as she walked slowly in the dusk toward the house. " That was wicked, downright wicked, and you couldn't see out of your eye for two days. Now was this what you did to-day in self- defence ? " The cat mewed. "I thought it was. That ; was all right and well enough ; but you must remember that dog is company, and you must treat him as Avell as you can." Aunt Ann put her cheek down on Kits' handsome head. " I think I see myself shutting you up so's to let a dog without any nose overrun the place ; a dog rigged up in bells like a fool. No, Kits ; I want you should remember your manners as you always have : but if that critter goes to acting around where you are, and bothering, I sha'n't say one word if you scratch him again." As the cat and dog seemed mutually agreed to shun one another's society, this first household disturbance quieted, and the family settled down to a pleasant routine life, only rippled now and then by Mrs. Exton'a 296 NEXT DOOR. exactions. She described herself as the most easily satisfied of mortals; but, like most ladies of alleged simple tastes, she required an interminable amount of waiting on ; and as her maid was sulky and dissatisfied, she claimed much attention and help from the two girls. Margery was willing enough to please her, but her little hands were very full of sewing, and she planned for many a ramble with Kate which Mrs. Exton's exigencies indefinitely postponed. Kate, to do her justice, would ordinarily forego her own wishes with alacrity to serve a sick and elderly friend ; but knowing what was in store for her, she was over-sensi- tive to every demand. This little while, these few weeks were her own. Her first impulse at each fresh request for a song, or a story to be read aloud, was to refuse with desperate energy. The fact is that the friction between her wishes and her actions wore her thin in these days. Margery saw the growing slender- ness, and so did Aunt Ann ; and the latter in a dim, vague fashion perceived the cause. " I tell you what, dear," she said one day to Kate, " I've done a good many silly things in my life, but the silliest of all was letting Mrs. Exton come down here. I see it. You'd a started in with her better in the fall if you'd a had a good rest this summer. The woman frets you. I don't believe it's going to work anyhow, Kate, your living with her. It would if you liked her. It would be first-rate ; but she's as selfish a piece as I ever came across, and no wonder you can'* like her." IN THE COUNTRY. 297 "My mind is made up about that, Aunt Ann. I am going to live with her," returned Kate, quietly ; " but let me warn you again riot to let Margery suspect it. You have frightened me once or twice. It wouldn't do. It would spoil everything." Aunt Ann paused with her hands in the dish-water and looked at her. They were at the kitchen sink, and Kate was wiping glasses for her. "Kate Standish," she said, slowly, as a mist seemed to roll away from her mental sight, " you're a noble woman." Kate colored. She looked guilty and anxious. There was nothing she dreaded more than to have Aunt Ann realize the situation. She feared it was just dawning clearly upon her. "Oh, you promised me, Aunt Ann," she said, desper- ately. " I did, my child. I will keep my word. God blesi jrou, Kate," was the earnest answer. CHAPTER XXVI. MARGERY SUSPECTS. MRS. EXTON, one day when she and Kate had been discussing songs, spoke of one which she said she wished Kate would learn. " For next winter, you know," she added. Margery was in the room, and looked up inquir- ingly. " Yes," replied Kate, " it might be very useful." Then she spoke of finding a little bell which had dropped from Dandy's collar, and the subject was effectually changed. There was a pleasant little shady group of trees down by the brook, where the girls sat with their sew- ing as often as the weather and Mrs. Exton would permit. Kate arrived there one morning in advance of Margery, and settled herself in one of the seats they had contrived. The brook's song was low at this season, but in accord with the soft, rare breezes of mid- summer. Kate was enjoying the peacefulness about her when it was suddenly broken in upon by Margery, who came hurrying into the grove with unusuaj energy. 298 MARGERY SUSPECTS. 299 "Kate, I want to know right off what secret you have with Mrs. Exton." The speaker's shade hat waa on the back of her head, one broad mull " string " in each hand, and her whole effect as she planted herself before her sister, so determined, that Kate's heart sank within her. "What makes you think that I have a secret?" "That won't do," returned the other, with an impa* tient shake of the head. "I have proof. See this. I just picked it up from the grass under Mrs. Exton'a window." Kate took the crumpled paper she offered, and straightened it. She had seen it before. She had written upon it herself : Please be more careful in what you say before Margery. Do you remember what you promised me the clay that 1 greed to your wishes ? Kate glanced over the words, then looked off, as though meditating, then back at Margery, who re- gained possession of the paper. " Well," she said, "it is nothing I can tell you." " Kate," said the younger girl, very seriously, " you make it so easy for me to be selfishly happy that I am apt to forget in these days that the world was not made wholly for me. You have let me prom- :se to marry Ray without considering yourself. When he urged a short engagement, and suggested that we be married the first of October, and go to Europe on our wedding trip, you saw that I was dazzled by the thought, and you encouraged me to consent. When- BOO NEXT DOOR. ever I spoke of your loneliness you hushed me, and Buggested a dozen reasons why you would not be lonely or unhappy, and I have always let myself be laughed or petted out of every objection. I ask your pardon, dear, for my selfishness. You would not marry without understanding definitely what was to become of me. Very well, I tell you soberly that I must know the whole truth referred to on this paper, or else my wedding is put off indefinitely." Kate met her eyes imploringly. " If you knew how you trouble me, Margery, you would take back every ivord of that." " Not one word," replied the other, shaking her head slowly. " No plan which you hide from me can mean happiness for you." " But if I tell you, if I assure you, that on the whole it does mean happiness." 'To whom?" "To me." Margery smiled. "I should stick to my decision. Put yourself in my place. What would you do ? " Kate pinched up a ruffle into a dozen fine plaits, and Was silent. " Perhaps I have given you cause to say that you love me more than I do you, but you shall never say BO again. It isn't true, Kate," added Margery, impul- sively. "You were my darling, faithful, devoted sister for ages before I ever saw Ray Ingalls, and if I must choose which of you to make happy it will be you, dear," she finished, fervently, throwing her arm MAHGEBY SUSPECTS. 301 (round Kate, and crying a little on her shoulder. Tha tears ran down Kate's cheeks unheeded. " Margery, Margery, what are you saying ! " she ex- claimed. "It will all be different when Kay is with you again, presenting his side of the case ; but I can- Dot bear to hear you talk so." " Then I will not talk about it ; but it will not be different when Ray conies, unless he can explain thid mystery " " He promised me." "Oh, then, he knows? Kate," after a moment's pause, "I feel as if I could not bear it to find out that Ray had been a party to anything what can it be? How unkind you are to keep it from me. I will go straight to Mrs. Exton." " She will not tell you," replied Kate, growing calm. 44 Margery, you say you want to make me happy. Then go on with every plan just as we expected. Do you think I cannot take care of myself ? " "That is just what I think," answered Margery, promptly. "Tell me, at least, whether I must be ungry with Ray. Has he connived " " He has done nothing unkind, nothing that ought to vex you." " Very well, then, in the course of years I will marry him, \vhen you are married, or settled in some happy way." Margery contracted her eyebrows, and looked meditatively at her sister. "What can you have agreed to that you are not willing to tell me ? Not to live with Mrs. Exton, I know ; because, rather than to 802 NEXT DOOR. do that, you would teach until you were seventy, and then go to the Old Ladies' Home, and yet oh, what is it, Kate? Do tell me." Kate rose. " I am going to the house," she said, slowly and with dignity. "I am seriously . hurt thai you will not trust me." And, gathering up her work, she moved away, without a look behind her. Margery stared after her. It was all incomprehen- sible. She sat there for perhaps ten or fifteen minutes, leaning forward, with her chin resting on her folded hands, and her eyes staring away across the brook, with its bright green banks dotted with clumps of alder and bunches of peppermint, to the woods that stretched away beyond. All at once, as though her bright eyes had conjured it from among the softly rustling trees, appeared the figure of a man. Margery's heart leaped at sight of him. It was hard to tell why she should feel such glad emotion ; for it was not Ray Ingalls, but John Exton, who strode across the brook and up the shallow, grassy incline. He did not see her until she started up and ran toward him. *' Mr. Exton, how glad I am to see you ! " she ex- claimed. The new-comer turned in pleased surprise at such vehement cordiality, and shook her offered hand. " I didn't know you had returned from Chicago. Won't you come into my sewing-room, and sit down? Kate and I are awkward carpenters, but I think that seal irill hold you." MAEGERY SUSPECTS. 303 "Thank you, I will with pleasure. I have been snking what I think the natives must be satirical in terming a short cut from the village." And Mr. Exton seated himself, taking off his hat, arid wiping his brow with his handkerchief. " Yes. Kate and I have taken it," replied Margery, nervously. " It is a lovely walk." " I remember your sister likes to walk. I think you must be enjoying yourselves here," said Exton, leaning back against a tree trunk, and looking observantly around him. " It is a lovely old place," answered Margery, impa- tient to have done with the conventionalities of the occasion; "and we were having a lovely time, at least, I was, until this morning." Exton looked at her anxiously. " Is my mother ill again ? She has written me in the best of spirits." "No, indeed; I think you will find her very com- fortable. I was so glad tc see you, Mr. Exton, when you came in sight a moment ago," added the girl, after a moment' 8 pause. "I am in such perplexity thia morning." Mr. Exton smiled at her. She seemed unusually youthful to him in her shade hat and simple morning dress. " I fancy you can be helped out of it easily," he said. " I left Ray in a high state of anticipation la:.t evening. He expects to come; possibly, to- mor- row." A flush of pleasure came into the girl's face, and vneu vanished. "Poor Kay," she sighed. "Mr 804 NEXT . DOOR. Exton," she continued, gravely, " I know you can help me, and I know you will. I found this paper this tnoming on the grass beneath your mother's window. Read it, please." Putting it into his hands, she continued: "You see there is something here that Kate is unwilling I should know ; therefore it means something unhappy for her I have entreated her to tell me about it, and she refuses obstinately. Just think, Ray knows it, what- ever it is; she admitted that. What am I to think of himf n And there were tears in Margery's eyes as she turned her hands out in a little gesture of despair. Her companion did not speak. Very stern his face looked as he kept his eyes on the paper, reading the few sentences over and over. " Oh, here comes Kate back again ! " ejaculated Margery, catching sight of a light dress coming swiftly across the green. "Don't let her see it. Come, Kate," she added, speaking aloud and in as bright a tone aa she could command, " were you afraid I had drowned myself in the brook ? Come, we have a visitor." Kxton slipped the paper into his vest pocket, and rose to meet the new-comer. She put her hand in his and said a few kind words. For seven long weeks this- moment had been the goal toward which he was work* ng; and now those few written words assured him that he had a right to be here. Whatever Kate might think, it was certain that she needed him. Margery turned away, and sauntered to the broofe to hide her excitement. MARGERY- SUSPECTS. 305 " It was hardly right in Margery to waylay you, and keep you from your mother," said Kate, trying to be bright and unembarrassed. " I was very glad to be waylaid. I had had a long walk through the woods. Here," bringing from an inside pocket of his coat a loosely pinned little paper, " are some violets I found for you as I came along." "For me?" said Kate, taking them, and coloring with pleasure, much touched and surprised by such a gift from such a person. " You do not know how I love violets." " Perhaps I do. I have noticed that you wear them very often." " Yes ; so many have been sent me. I have been very fortunate. I remember now that you said you liked them especially." "I do," said Exton, his hands crossed behind him, aa he stood satisfying his hunger for a sight of Kate, who occupied her eyes and fingers with the delicate little flowers. " They are to me the loveliest gift of nature." There was nothing in this to make Kate sure, for she had never hitherto thought of Mr. Exton as possibly Bending the fragrant messages that had come with o o o such regularity ; and yet from that moment she was entirely sure that they l.ad come from him, had been the expression of his thought for her. The percep- tion, bewildering in its sweetness, held her powerless to speak or to move It was very still in the shade where they stood; the brook's cool plash made the B06 NEXT DOOR. only sound. Kate kept her eyes on the violets, and John Exton kept his eyes on her. "How much more charming she is in that blue and white stuff than I ever saw her ! " he thought, deeply content. "You have grown thin, I think," he said. "Impossible during vacation in the country," she replied, finding suddenly that it was a singularly airless day, and that it was difficult to breathe ; " but if it continues so warm as this," she added, turning about suddenly, as if to throw off. a spell, " there is no telling what may happen. Do not let us keep you here, Mr. Exton. Your mother must be expecting you." Exton removed his eyes. He began to suspect from her manner that he might have been staring at her. He looked at her hands, as the next best thing to her face. They were not very long and slender, or other- wise " unutterable patrician," but they were pretty and white. When Nature makes a woman with Kate Stand ish's type of face, all beauty of form usually accompanies it. He reflected on the selfish use to which it was intended to put her, on the sacrifice that had been reqiiired of her, on the unflinching way in which she would be sure to make it. "No," he answered, with a slight, inscrutable smile. " I am going to surprise my mother. Are you going back to the house, Miss Standish ? " " Not immediately," she replied, moving toward one of the seats. u Then I will see you again after a time. I am going MARGERY SUSPECTS. 301 to stay to dinner, if Miss Eaton will let me." And, picking up his hat, Exton bowed and left the grove. Kate did not look after him. She gazed at Mar- gery, who was sitting on the grass by the brook, close to the clump of peppermint, leaves of which she was absently tearing and pinching, so that their breath reached Kate. What wonder that ever after that odor of mint, which to others suggests a prosaic sauce for the table, connected itself for her with ineffable things. A secret, great, and exultant joy throbbed in all her being. " I have had the happiest moment I shall ever know," she said to herself. John Exton, as he hurried on up the hill, felt that he had an unenviable task before him. He loved his mother, he felt strongly a sense of duty toward her; and the consciousness of her enfeebled condition brought out the tenderness and chivalry of his nature. He knew what he was to her, all that she loved after herself. This knowledge had restrained and governed him in times past. It had held him back from the pursuit of happiness, or, in other words, Kate. He had. waited and waited, he knew not precisely for what, too really unselfish to claim his own rights at the expense of his mother's peace. Few women could command such love from a son without being more lovely. The glad change that came over her face on being; told of Exton's arrival was proof enough of her fond- ness for him. She stretched out both hands when, ha 808 NEXT DOOR came into the room, and welcomed him with a warmth that seemed to shame his purpose. He sat down, and answered all her questions ; described the parks and drives and lake breezes of Chicago, and congratulated her lovingly on the apparent improvement in her health. At last, he brought the conversation around to the inmates of the house. " And how do you like our prospective relative, the little Margery ? " he asked. " You have had good op- portunity to study her." "My dear boy, I have long given up studying people," replied his mother, indifferently. "I know almost at a glance who will interest me, and who will not. I have no objection to Margery." "Is that the best you can say for her?" " It is rather fortunate for her and Ray that I can Bay that much," was the smiling reply. "It would certainly inconvenience them if I were to say less." "I have often thought," said Exton, witli a quiet persistence, "that your first impulse must have been to object. I know how strenuous your feelings are on this absurdly arbitrary question of caste. I should have said that you would not approve of a marriage between one of our family and one of this." " My first impulse was certainly to object," said the other, complacently ; " but Ray was so earnest I thought better of it." John Exton was accustomed to his mother's faculty of twisting her own motives ; but he had always found lome tender excuse for her, on the ground of hef MARGERY SUSPECTS. 309 invalidism. He had never felt ashamed for her until now. He knew that she was trying to deceive herself as well as him in this matter ; and it hurt him to show her that she had failed in the latter effort. "Perhaps you thought Miss Standish would be more likely to act as your companion if her sister was dis~ posed of." " How can I tell now all the thoughts I may have had ? However, it is as well you should know that 1 expect to engage Miss Standish in the fall. I hope it will not be disagreeable for you, John. I think it will not. She is really very sensible." " It is disagreeable to me to have her coerced." "Who talks of coercion?" " This does," and John took the scrap of writing from his pocket. " You must have dropped this from your window. It was on the grass below." Mrs Exton held up her eye-glass with one unsteady white hand. " Ah, indeed ! " she said, as she recog- nized the written message. " Do you think you had better meddle, John ? " " Yes, mother, I do decidedly. Your ready consent to Ray's wishes was a mystery to me only until I read this. I know how hard it is for you to give up a wish you have once formed. I see now that you did not scruple to work upon this young lady's love for her sister until she consented to what is repugnant to her, for Margery's sake." " You assume a great deal." u Oh, it is quite plain. This* paper shows Kate to 310 NEXT DOOR. be in terror lest her sister should discover this plan, because she knows that rather than consent to it, Margery would give up her marriage." "Do you mean to say that you believe such rubbish as that ? " "Fully. I know it. Mother, have I ever thwarted you in any way before ? " No answer. " Well, I must in this. I cannot allow Miss Stan- dish to put us under any such obligation as to come into our house to be at your or any. one's beck and call." " Indeed ! " Mrs. Exton's dim eyes flashed, and Bhe seemed suddenly alert and in full possession of her strength. " How can you prevent it ? " "By laying the whole arrangement before Miss Margery." He started up, catching sight of some one from the window. " She is coming into the house now. May I call her up here?" Mrs. Exton waved her hand in haughty consent, and in another minute Margery. was in the room, her hat in her hand, looking from mother to son with an ex- cited expectancy. John brought forward a chair for her. " I would rather stand, please," she said, resting hei hand on its back. " How angry and hard that woman can look ! " she said to herself. " Miss Margery, I wish you to understand some matters relative to your engagement which, I believe, Hay has withheld from you, probably at your sister's MATtGERY SUSPECTS. 311 request. My mother governs Ray's fortune for a few? years to come. It is not large, and it is so disposed that lie receives but a small income from it at present. My mother consented to Ray's marriage on the condi- tion that your sister would thereafter make her home with her. Your sister consented to the condition, and BO matters stand at present. This, I believe, is news to you." Margery's face flushed slowly, deeply. Mrs. Exton watched her with a most disagreeable expression of criticism. "Very sad news, Mr. Exton," replied the girl. "It means a great deal to me. Why have you not told me this?" she added, turning suddenly to Mrs. Exton. The latter used her smelling-bottle. "It was noth- ing to me whether you were told or not," she said. " You must remember you were nothing to me at the time, not even an acquaintance. If you are minded to turn this very commonplace arrangement into a tragedy, please do so outside of this room. I hope you are satisfied, John." "I shall be when I know what Miss Margery says to it." Margery looked at him, her breast rising and falling. " Cun you doubt, Mr. Exton ?" she said. " Thank you BO much for your great kindness," she added, earnestly, coming forward and taking his hand in both of hers. "No one else would have told me. I should have oeen allowed to go on. No one seems to care fol Kate but me." 812 NEXT DOOR. " And you care for her more than you do for Ray," remarked Mrs. Exton. " I am glad we found that out in time. His own people love him." Margery turned her clear young eyes on the speaker with a kind of curiosity as though she had never seen her before. Then she released John, and left the room without another word. She hurried out of the house and ran across the lawn. Kate was still sitting in the grove, pretending to sew. Margery suddenly appeared before her, pushed her work away, took her in her arms and kissed her. " I understand it all now, dear," she said, rather breathlessly, but without tears. " Mr. Exton has found out and told me. It was just like you." Kate looked at her helplessly, all her vague, sweet happiness put to flight. " What shall I do with you, Margery?" she said, her hands falling nerveless in her lap. "Love me," answered Margery, resting her own cheek tenderly against hers. "And Ray? Will he wait?" Margery smiled with a look of utter confidence. " Ray must have been misled," she said. "If he could not be a true brother to you, Kate, he could never be a husband to me." CHAPTER XXVII. AT MRS. PARKER'S. WHEN the girls returned to the house, Mr. Exton had gone. Mrs. Exton had her dinner brought up to her room ; and as Aunt Ann and her nieces had not often the pleasure of a meal together without her, it ought to have been a hilarious occasion. Aunt Ann sat down to the table making the announcement cheer- fully that the old lady was indisposed. " I tried to make Mr. Exton wait," she said, " but he said no. It seems he's made arrangements to stay at Parker's, in the village, and there's a room there that Ray can have. He said he'd probably come back to-morrow. It's my opinion," lowering her voice, " that he and his ma have had some' sort of a tiff." "It seems that Mrs. Exton cannot be agreeable long, even to him," observed Margery. "She would be a nice individual for Kate to live with, don't you think, Aunt Ann? A nice person to have the disposal of Kate's time and actions ! " " Land ! " ejaculated Miss Eaton, looking from Mar. gery to Kate. 814 NEXT DOOR. " Well, I am glad that at least you did not know it, I am glad some one beside myself has a spark of .feeling for Kate," Aunt Ann made a sudden plunge at the beefsteak, and covered her guilty consciousness by using the carving knife and fork energetically. She stole furtive glances at Kate, who sat mute and resistless. Margery had evi- dently, by some means or other, deposed her and taken possession of the reins. She chattered cheerily on all subjects, and hoped that to-morrow would prove pleas- ant, for Ray's sake. Apparently her light-heartedness was real, but it elicited nothing but an occasional smile from Kate, and timid monosyllables from Aunt Ann, who had not yet decided whether to be glad or sorry that, as she expressed it to herself, the fat was in the fire. The next day Margery went about the house singing like a bird. Mrs. Exton came feebly out to the piazza, and Margery, who happened to be in sight, pulled for- ward a chair for her, but turned away, still humming her little song and not acknowledging her presence in any other way. Ray was coming. She would see him to-day. They had been separated two Aveeks. Every wish of hers he would sympathize with ; he would understand her every feeling, as he always had done; he would an. pwer her questions and explain all that now looked mysterious in his past behavior regarding Kate. She expected him to arrive by the train that brought Mr. Exton yesterday, but the hour passed and he did AT MRS. PARKER'S. 315 Dot come, and, with a keen disappointment, Margery settled down to wait until to-morrow. Early in the afternoon a horse and buggy were driven swiftly up to the house, and Mr. Exton alighted. It was the hour in a summer day when the hearts of womankind turn naturally to dressing-sacks, darkened windows, and naps. The house looked singularly quiet, and no answer came at once to his loud knock- ing, save Dandy's industrious barking. At last Mar- gery appeared with the pug at her heels, his jingling bells and sharp little voice mingling with her welcome of the new-comer. " Ray did not arrive," she said, eagerly, as though she thought perhaps Exton had brought some word. The latter stooped to pat the dog, an unusual con- descension, which evidently surprised Dandy to the extent of extinguishing his bark. "I do not see how your mother gets any naps, really," laughed Margery; "but she is always patient with Dandy's noise. Shall I see if you can come right up stairs?" "You need not disturb her, please," rejoined the other, rather hurriedly. Margery hesitated. Was she to usher Mr. Exton into Aunt Ann's darkened parlor, and treat him like a caller? " It is not very lively at Mrs. Parker's, where I am stopping," he continued, explanatorily; and Margery thought his kind, deliberate way of speaking even pieasanter than usual. '! am hoping to get a little 516 NEXT DOOR. fishing later, and meanwhile the thought of you all attracted me." " I am glad," said Margery, frankly, " If you are going to stay in town I hope you will come often. I feel," she added, turning her rosy face up to his with a charming air of frankness, "very much nearer I mean better acquainted with you since yester- day. " " I am glad of that," he returned, earnestly. " Mate gery, may I call you Margery ? " He paused. " Yes, indeed," and the girl gave him her hand, with an instinctive feeling that he wished it. " I wish you to feel near to me, and to feel sure that I am as anxious for your happiness as I am for Ray's. Remember I am going to be your uncle one of these days, and you must feel a real niece's privilege to express your wishes to me, being certain of my sym- pathy. Will you promise to adopt me at once ?" . " It will be a long time yet," said Margery, softly ; " but I appreciate your kindness. Your sense of justice toward Kate I shall never forget ; and I am sure if I were to be in any perplexity from which Ray could not relieve me, you would be my first thought." " Do not forget, then," said Exton, gravely ; and at the same moment he perceived Kate standing a little way back in the entry, and looking astonished at the- tableau formed by Margery with her hand in John Exton's. The latter released Margery and came inside. " How do you do, Miss Standish ? I came to see if you had AT MRS. PARKER'S. 317 the bravery to go for a drive so early on a suramef Rfternoon." Kate looked keenly at Margery. She coulc? not imagine why Mr. Exton should have been holding her hand and speaking so devotedly. " Certainly," she answered. " I will be ready in a minute." She hurried up stairs and soon returned, ready, with her hat and parasol. Margery stood on the piazza and watched them drive off. The last they saw of her she was holding Dandy up in her arms, making him wave his paw after them, and laughing at his little, wrinkled, careworn face. " I wish she might never know a less happy moment than the present one," said Exton. " Thank you in her name. It seems that I am fated after all to be a stumbling-block in the poor child's path," said Kate. "I wish there were none more serious," returned Exton, gravely. They had gained the public road, and instead of driving, as Kate had expected, farther back into the country, he had turned the horse's head toward the village. " We are companions to-day in a heavy trial, Miss Standish. Ray came down last night on the train ; there was an accident, and he was among the injured. The collision occurred not far from the town here, and I hurried to the spot as soon as the news came, and found the poor boy, and brought him to the house where I am stopping. I anj going to take you there now if you are willing." 81ft NEXT DOOR. 'Of course I am willing," said Kate, very pale, u How much is be injured?" " His left arm is broken, and tbere is a cut on hii head, from which he is unconscious. The arm baa been set, and I have telegraphed to Boston for Dr. D ," naming a famous surgeon ; " and until he arrives I shall not feel sure that we know the extent of the injury." " Oh, what a blessing that Aunt Ann lives so out of the way ! No one has been to the farm this morning Who could bring the news." "Yes, I saw that as soon as Margery met me. I thought it better to talk with you, and, perhaps, have you see Ray before the dear little girl should be told." "Oh, Mr. Exton, you don't think there is any danger ! " "What can I say, Miss Stand ish ? I hope not, more than I ever hoped for anything." Dreadful visions passed through Kate's head of Margery, pale, dressed in black, a crushed, broken- hearted creature. " It is too dreadful. What does the doctor say ? " " I left him with Ray. He promised to stay until I returned. He has been very kind ; but he is evidently glad I have sent for Dr. D ." " If we could only keep it from Margery," said Kate, " until we could give a hopeful account of him." "You shall decide that, and everything," replied Exton. " I cannot tell you with what a rush of grati lude I realized your nearness this morning." AT MRS. PARKER'S. 319 "That is a pleasant thing to hear," said Kate "i have been feeling so superfluous of late, and at best a hone of contention." Exton looked at her with an unmistakable expres- sion, which surprised her even more than the dis- covery about the violets. Her pulses beat, and she grew warm beneath it ; but her intellect was not to be misled by her heart. Just because she found herself with him in this simple, unconventional spot, she was not going to forget who John Exton was, and what were his associates, life, and expectations. Kate always wanted everything clearly explained, and, as she had not naturally doubts of her own judgment, her own explanations were apt to satisfy her. She had one nicely fitted in a twinkling to John Exton's ju?\vly discovered interest in herself. He was one of those confirmed bachelors, with nevertheless warm hearts, who delight to give pleasure to youth, who take a generous, kindly interest in those unfavored by fortune. She had read of such people. It was natural for any humane person well acquainted with Mrs. Exton to try to save a young woman with other means of support from becoming her companion. It was natural for this type of humane person to send llowers anonymously to a poverty-stricken girl who otherwise would not have any. It was natural for him now to look at her with an appreciation of her position that called forth his kindest pity. It was not his fault if the pity was so near akin to love that sha could not tell them apart. 820 NEXT DOOR. "Here we are," said Exton, turning to the side o\ the street, and stopping before a white house with green blinds, that stood close to a sidewalk, shaded by a row of maples. Two stone steps led to the front door. Exton opened it without stopping to knock, and Kate followed him to a darkened back room, evi- dently selected for its quiet, where there was a bed, and on it a figure with restless head turning from side to side, and talking incoherently. The doctor rose and came forward. "Perhaps it will be as well for no one but yourself to corne in, Mr. Exton," he said. "I will go out and try to find a nurse. I have left written directions there that will answer until Dr. D arrives." Kate clung unconsciously to Exton's arm. "He is calling Margery, do you hear?" she whispered. "I need not go in?" "No," said Exton, pressing her hand to his side. "I told you, Dr. Oakley, that the young lady whom Mr. Ingalls is to marry is here in the village." Dr. Oakley bowed gravely to Kate. " This is her sister. Miss Standish, this is Dr. Oakley. We were wondering whether it would be best to keep Mr. Ingalls' condition a secret from the young lady until he improves." "If you ask my advice I should say not. In my jpinion the young man's condition is critical," replied the doctor, promptly. "I wish he might be moved to our house," said Kate, trembling. AT MRS. PARKER'S. 321 "Miss Eaton's? Impossible for some time to come, at best. He has already been moved to a dan- gerous extent." " I must take this young lady home," said Exton. " I thought if Ray were still in a stupor she might see him. I wonder if it would be safe to leave Mrs. Parker with Ray?" " One can do about as much for him as another, just now," said the doctor. " However, if you will let me take your buggy, I will drive home with Miss Standish. The woman I hope to secure as a nurse lives just be- yond Miss Eaton." So it was arranged. Kate gave her hand to Exton and turned away with a sinking heart. The drive home seemed cruelly short to her. How would Mar- gery bear it ! How terrible it was to be so helpless to comfort her! It was a little relief to find when she arrived at the farm that the news of the collision had penetrated there. Margery was walking up and down in the shade beside the house, and, as soon as she saw the approaching buggy, ran to meet it. She started at sight of a strange man in Mr. Exton'a place. " Have you heard of the railroad accident, Kate ? " she demanded. "I am so frightened about Ray. It was the train he expected to come on." She looked eearchingly in her sister's face. ; ' He did come on it, Dh, Kate, Kate ! " The doctor leaped from the buggy and supported 822 NEXT DOOR. her. "Hope for the best, my dear young lady/' h Baid, tritely. "Is he alive, then?" asked Margery, resisting the overpowering faintness. " Yes, darling," said Kate, tremulously. " This is the doctor who is taking care of him. Take the reins, doctor, please. Let me come to her." " Will you get my hat for me, Kate ? I arn too weak to hurry." "What for, dear?" " Why, to go back with the doctor, of course ; but perhaps they are bringing him here." "No, it was not best," replied Kate. "He is with Mr. Exton at Mrs. Parker's. The doctor is on hie way to get a nurse, Margery ; you must not detain him." " Oh, doctor, I could take care of him ! " said Mar- gery, pathetically. " You won't believe me because I am so young ; but I could, indeed." "My dear child, it might be risking his life. We cannot be too careful." " Then, hurry," said Margery, feverishly, " hurry." The doctor jumped into the buggy and drove off ; and Kate put her arm around her sister and led her toward the house. "Tell me all about it, Kate ; everything you know." Kate obeyed, lovingly softening every discouraging detail. "Ah! he called me, did he?" asked Margery, witli joyful brightening of her face. " Perhaps he waj AT MRS. PARKER'S. 323 more sensible than you thought. At all events, 1 shall very soon know," she added, hastening her foot* steps. Mrs. Exton's and Aunt Ann's consternation at the news was equal, but differently expressed. The for- mer fainted dead away, and was recovered, through Molly's long-continued efforts, only to cry plaintively for John. Aunt Ann's cheeks became very red, sure sign with her of great fatigue or strong emotion, and she assumed a cheerfulness as strained and unnatural as her color. "Now, if we could only have the dear boy right here, Margery," she said, " we could have real comfort nursing him up." " You have the horse harnessed and we will go to him directly," replied the girl. " I have very little to do to get ready. Hurry, please, Aunt Ann." " Wait till to-morrow morning. Wouldn't it be better?" suggested Kate, but very hesitatingly; for the doctor's forebodings had been so frightful to hep inexperience that she did not feel sure that to-morrow \vould not be too late. " I am surprised at you, Kate," said her sister ; then turning to Aunt Ann : " Is it perfectly convenient about the horse ? If not, say so ; for I do not mind the walk." " Yes, it's convenient," said Aunt Ann. "We'll go f Margery." Twenty minutes later they were on their way- Hardly a word passed between them until thej S24 NEXT DOOR. reached their destination. " Perhaps they won't let us see him at all, dear," said Aunt Ann, kindly, just before they went in. " You love him enough to do whatever's best for him, Margery." Aunt Ann's words were more sanguine than her feelings. She was trembling with dread of the effect upon Margery of seeing Ray. She made her sit down in the parlor until Mrs. Parker had summoned Exton, who came very promptly. He was struck at once with the great change in Margery from the laughing girl of a couple of hours ago. She rose as he entered the room, and came to meet him. " Has the nurse arrived ? " she asked. "Yes, she has just come." " How soon will Dr. D be here ?" " In about an hour." "Is Ray conscious?" " He is delirious nearly all the time ; but the^e are moments when a sensible look comes into his eyes, and that makes me hopeful." " Can I see him now ? " Exton looked at her in admiring surprise. She was BO quiet. Poor Margery ! She knew that composure would be her only passport into the sick-room. " Will you not wait until Dr. D comes ? " he Rsked, gently. Margery began to tremble violently. " Do not keep me out ; I must see him," she said, softly, clasping her hands. "You can tell in a moment if my presence hai i bad effect, and I will leave him immediately." AT MRS. PARKER'S. 325 Aunt Ann looked helplessly from one to the other. " Mr. Exton, you mean to be kind ; but can you not understand what it is to me to be wasting these min- utes?" Margery took hold of Exton's hand as she spoke, and the intense pleading in her blue eyes was not to be withstood. " Come," he said. " Miss Eaton, will you wait here?" Aunt Ann bowed her head in silence. Margery followed him to the door of the sick-room. They could hear Ray's rambling, broken talk. She felt as if her heart would burst to hear the beloved voice. Exton opened the door and she walked in. The nurse was sitting there. She looked up in sur- prise at the apparition of the pale, pretty girl, who crossed the room noiselessly, sank on her knees beside the bed, took the patient's right hand, and looked steadily into his eyes. Ray's expression changed. He looked at her curiously. " Margery," he said, and then was still. Margery, without looking up, lifted her other hand to Exton, who stood beside her. He pressed it, and then took his seat at a little distance. Minutes passed. Ray remained quiet, with his eyes closed, and his hand in Margery's. Exton brought a little chair, and tried to indu.ce her to change her position ; but she shook her head. At last he left the room. Margery knew he had to meet the doctor. A few minutes after his , the nurse, who was a stout woman, in 826 NEXT DOOR. attire guiltless of whalebone, came heavily to the bedside. " It is time for his medicine," she whispered, huskily. " But I think he is asleep," replied Margery. The nurse shook her head peremptorily. " Stupor. He's more dangerous when he's this way. He's got to have his medicine. Move, please." The patient stirred restlessly as the spoon was put be- tween his lips, and Margery was obliged to release his hand. He began to talk again incoherently, growing louder and louder, and more excited, until she was ter- rified. The nurse kept her station jealously beside the bed, waving a palm-leaf fan back and forth. After what seemed to Margery an age of waiting, the door opened, and Mr. Exton and the famous surgeon walked in. A sob rose in Margery's throat. She cast one glanco toward the bed, and went quietly out of the room. She found Aunt Ann where she had left her in the parlor. Mrs. Parker was sitting with her, and Aunt Ann introduced her niece. Margery shook hands with the hostess very cordially, and spoke so warmly of the latter's share of the trouble that had come to them, that the good woman's heart was won. Artful Margery ! She had designs upon Mrs. Parker's hospi- tality. "How did you find him?" asked Aunt Ann, eagerly, deceived by the excitement in Margery's manner. " The doctor has just come, you know," replied the pirl. " We shall hear his verdict soon, I hope ; and after that, Aunt Ann, don't wait any longer for me." AT MRS. PARKER'S. 321 " But you're coming home, child." "I cannot possibly go. Mrs. Parker will give me some little place where I can sleep. If I stay with Kay, I think he will live. If I leave him, I am sure he will die." " She'll have to stay, I guess, Miss Eaton, if she feels that way," said Mrs. Parker, indulgently, with a furtive wink at Aunt Ann. " She can come home in a day or two, you know, when the young man's better." " Well, I declare," said Aunt Ann, wiping her eyes, " I don't know what to do. Poor, dear Ray. My poor boy." Here Mr. Exton appeared. All three women started to their feet at sight of his grave face. " Dr. D wants you, Margery," he said, hastily. Margery went with him without a word. " Ray is so excited. I spoke of you to the doctor, and he wishes to try your effect upon him again. Do just what you did before, as nearly as you can." Margery went in, and kneeling by the bedside again took the restless hand, and met the roving eyes with a loving little smile, infinitely sad and sweet. Ray rested his eyes upon her, talked more slowly, and at last grew still. The doctor's face relaxed. " Invaluable," he said to Ex ton. He sent the nurse from the room on some errand. Margery looked at him with a significance which made him stoop to her side. "That woman must go away. She does harm," she B28 NEXT DOOR. Raid, distinctly. "I am strong, and will do in hei place. Tell them." The doctor stood up. " She knows enough not to whisper," he thought. " Any way, we can make the trial." He beckoned Exton out of the room. "That nurse won't do. I thought so, and the young lady says so. She must go. I shall know to-morrow more than I do now about this case. After that it will be time to send to Boston for a nurse if there is necessity for one." The sinister closing of the doctor's sentence gave Exton the keenest pang of apprehension he had yet experienced. From that moment Margery was queen in the sick-room. The nurse was dismissed with a mollifying bank-note ; and the tenderest and wisest care watched over Ray through the long night. Mar- gery refused to leave him for a moment ; and, indeed, when the doctor saw the effect upon the patient of missing her from his side, she was no longer urged to rest. Toward morning Ray fell into a troubled sleep, a sign which Margery, eagerly watching the doctor's face, could see was hopeful. Upon awaking, Ray looked quite tranquilly at Margery, and spoke her name ; and, as the day wore on, these lucid periods grew longer. During one of the short naps into which he frequently fell, Margery drew the doctor outside the room. "You feel quite easy now about him, doctor?" she &sked, eagerly. A.T MRS. PARKER'S. 329 tt If he gets well, my dear young lady, you shall be the doctor who gets the credit," was the reply, RS the speaker looked into the large blue eyes, with their dark circles. " I do feel hopeful ; but I do not think at best that there can be a quick recovery for our patient. We must make up our minds for a siege." " We should be grateful to do that, with victory at the end," she replied, bravely, and went back to Ray's Bide. The next time he woke, he put his hand out toward hers. It was the first sensible motion he had made. It was evident that for the time he knew her perfectly, and realized her care for him. " He will get well," thought Margery, with a thrill of joy; "but I must be with him night and day." She was fully imbued with the idea that his life depended upon her proximity. The next time she left the room she met Exton in the hall. " I am glad you have been out breathing the air," ehe said ; for he looked full of vitality. " I had to go to my mother. She had heard that Dr. D was here, and she insisted upon seeing him. I knew he must not leave Ray to-day, so I rode up to the farm, and pacified her as well as I could. She is very much broken by all this agita- tion. Have you needed me? I hurried as fast as I was able." " No ; Ray has been asleep much of the time. The doctor and I have both Leen with nim.'* B39 NEXT DOOR. " I nave a note for you from your sister," said Exton, taking it from his pocket; "and they all sent love. Won't you go outdoors for a few minutes, and let me take your place?" " No, not yet, thank you ; I am nowhere near tired out. That is my one talent health." She smiled at Exton, and paused. " I am going to take advantage of what you said the day Ray was hurt," she contin- ued, finally. "It seems about a month ago. Do you remember you said I must come to you with all my wishes, certain of your sympathy ? " "Yes, dear little niece. I meant it then, and I mean it a hundredfold more since I have had a glimpse of your strong, sweet character." " Well," said Margery, coming closer to him, and looking up with a childlike appeal, "do you think in a few days, if Ray gets better, gets to know me for, say, an hour at a time, do you think it would do him any harm if I were to marry him ? " The proposition surprised Exton so completely that for a minute he did not answer. " Then," continued Margery, " no one could make any objection to anything, and they could not insist upon sending to Boston for another nurse." " We cannot let you ruin your health." " No ; I would promise to be sensible." Exton looked at her. Where were the variouj con- siderations that had looked so weighty a week ago, . Kate's future, Mrs. Exton's consent, Ray's temporary poverty ? All swallowed up in this one absorbing be* AT MRS. PARKER'S. 331 Kef that she was necessary to her lover's renewed health. A belief that Exton could not help sharing with almost superstitious earnestness. "You have cut the Gordian knot, Margery," he said. "I should not be surprised if your loving intuition had ^elected the quickest, surest means to Ray's recovery/ CHAPTER XXVIII. MRS. EXTON IS SHOCKED. IT was at this troublesome time that Aunt Ann more than ever regretted her acceptance of Mrs. Exton, as a summer boarder. It would have been sad enough at the farm without the perpetual annoyance of her complaints; and perhaps the counter-irritation she inflicted was not wholly undesirable for her hostess and Kate. The latter was in a strange state. She wondered at herself for feeling anything but grief; but her unrest, her anxiety, her very sadness for Mar- gery were tempered by a nameless, unreasonable joy, that stole into her heart whenever the pressure of care lifted ever so slightly. Of course, this subtle happi- ness must have an explanation. " It astonishes me to find how relieved I am that I am not going to be Mrs. Exton's companion," she said to Aunt Ann, and so saying explained it to her own satisfaction. "My dear, it shames me to think of setting up our little troubles at a time like this," responded her aunt; " but upon my word that woman's peevishness beats all. It frets her most to death, I do believe, to think 332 MRS. EXTON IS SHOCKED. 333 there's somebody in town sicker'n she is, even though it's her own flesh and blood. There's that dear boy not out of danger yet ; and still she can think of her- self more than him, and be jealous of him because he keeps John down there. Oh," sighing heavily, "I do hope Mr. Exton'll come up and tussle with her to-day. It always quiets her down for a while, any way." "Perhaps I had better go and read to her," sug- gested Kate. " I dare say it would be as good for me as for her. It is such a strange experience to be sep- arated from Margery, and know her to be undergoing such fatigue and anxiety, and yet not be permitted to help her. Anything that will kill time and divert my mind is a blessing." "Well, now, don't worry, dear. It is all in the Lord's hands. Realize that, don't simply say it, and it will do you a world of good. Mr. Exton says, you know, that Margery is keeping up wonderfully, and that they don't dare to spare her, she seems to do Ray so much good. Well, then, she's in the way of her duty, and she'll be supported. I'm tempted to fret over it a good deal myself; but I can't leave home just now, and probably they wouldn't have me there if I could go. So my duty is plain enough." And Aunt Ann gave Kate an encouraging little pat on the fchoulder, as she passed her to go into the china closet. " Well," said Kate, "I will go to Mrs. Exton." "I will say for you that your patience with her is tsweet," said Aunt Ann. B34 NEXT DOOR. Kate blushed. " Only since I have known that she had no claim upon me." She took a hook, and went up stairs to Mrs. Exton'a room. "I am glad you have finally decided to come," was her welcome. " No one seems to consider what it is to me to sit here alone with my horrible apprehensions about Ray. Even Molly has been gone a preposterous length of time, and I have no bell to call any one." "It is growing warm up here," answered Kate. " Don't you think you might get down to the piazza ? I have found a story that I am sure you will like." " Oh, of course, if it is too warm for you to sit here, I could not ask you to do so." " It is not so uncomfortable for me as it will be for you in your weak condition. Let me help you down." " My son ought to be here," was the fretful reply. "I fully expected to have the pleasure and comfort of his society during his vacation." " Surely none of us expected the present sad state of affairs," replied Kate, assisting the old lady to rise. With some difficulty she helped her down to the piazza, and seated her in a rocking-chair. The girl had such a firm, deft way with her, and was so strong withal, Mrs. Exton breathed a sigh when she found herself comfortably ensconced, a sigh for the vanished prospect of Kate's steady companionship. Her pride kept her from putting her thoughts into words. She now felt a real dislike for Margery, and would hava preferred to scorn Kate ; but the latter still exercised, MRS. EXTON IS SHOCKED. RS she had from the evening of their first meeting, a fascination over the old lady which made the latter eager,, in spite of herself, for the charm of her pres- ence, Kate opened the book, and began reading; but be* fore long Mrs. Exton interrupted her. "Excuse me. Who is that turning into the drive? Is it my son ? " " Yes, oh, yes ; it is ! " exclaimed Kate, joyfully. " Now we shall hear the news." She would have left her chair but for the jealousy of her companion, who she knew would be highly dis- pleased should she receive the first of Mr. Exton's communication. Mrs. Exton watched his approach with an unsmiling expression of long suffering. He tied his horse in the shade, then came swiftly across the lawn and up the steps. "How do you do to-day, mother?" he asked, kissing her; then he shook hands with Kate, and seated him- self ovi the step close by his mother's feet, " I think you must know how I would feel under these circumstances," replied the latter, severely. "How is Ray?" " On the whole, improving; but he requires constant watching and care." "That may be," said Mrs. Exton; "but of how many people? I should think, John, that you might occasionally recollect my needs," " That is what I am doing now. Be sure my incli- nation is to be up here in this breezy spot all the time, 336 NEXT DOOR. and, by the way, how well it is agreeing with you ! Tn spite of all that has occurred, you are looking very well." Mrs. Exton glared at him in amazement, and then Bmiled a smile of contempt for masculine penetration. " I could have told you, Miss Standish, that if I dragged myself out here upon the piazza I should immediately be pronounced well," she said. " I wish pronouncing you so would make you well," said Kate, pacifically. " Margery must be keeping up, Mr. Exton, or you would have told me at once." " She is doing nobly. If you could hear the things Dr. D says about her, you would be proud of her." "It is quite time she came back here," said Mrs. Exton, irritably. " Of course Ray likes to have her there; he would not have any judgment about it; but so long as immediate danger is past, I consider that her remaining with him is not only unnecessary, but positively indelicate. No lady would " " Mother ! " exclaimed Exton, stopping her with a look such as she had never received from him before. " Not another word of that sort." Mrs. Exton turned sharply to Kate. "Perhaps you had better leave us, Miss Standish, if your presence causes my son so far to forget himself as to dictate to his mother." "Pray remain where you are," ordered John, his brows knitted in a stern look, in which Kate exulted despite the fact of its falling upon her. The humane MRS. EXTON IS SHOCKED. 337 confirmed bachelor would be a stanch protector and friend to Margery. She could see that. "I consider Margery as already my niece. I will not hear one criticism of her sweet, womanly behavior," he finished. " Well ! " ejaculated Mrs. Exton, her delicate face deeply red. <; Since Margery's position strikes you, mother, as anomalous, I think it should be altered." He turned to Kate with a gentle change of manner. " She could not be induced to leave Ray, I am sure, and I agree with her in believing her presence to be a great advan- tage to him. It would obviate every difficulty if they could be married now in a day or two." "John Exton!" exclaimed his mother, "are you crazy? I will not give my consent," she finished, her Voice trembling with anger. " Why not now as well as any time?" 'I have no intention of ever giving it. I do not like the match. It is a misalliance, undesirable in every way. It shall not be while I have breath to oppose it." Kate was terribly pale, and her eyes filled with tears. They gave Exton a wild pang. " Mother, you destroy my faith in you. No one but yourself could have made me believe that you would say such words before Margery's sister. Your consent to this marriage is of the smallest importance. All my support, affectionate and financial, is at the service of these young people, who, unless Ray is worse, wiiJ certainly be married before twver. " No," he answered. WOOD VIOLETS. 369 " You must have taken a great deal of interest in your errand," observed Ray, laughing. Kate turned away, as if to go toward the house. Exton seized her hand and drew her back. " Do not go, Kate. They are all friends here," he. said, with a slight smile. Margery looked keenly into her sister's rosy face. " Oh ! " she exclaimed, involuntarily. " What is it, Margery ? " asked Exton. " Oh, nothing. That western sky is so lovely." " I don't believe a word of it," said the other. " I think you suspect your sister." " What of ? " asked Margery, with wide-eyed inno- cence. Kate, making a virtue of necessity, had put her hand through Aunt Ann's arm. " She is afraid that now you are married she can- not have sufficient control over you merely as your sister. She thinks of becoming your aunt." Margery caught her breath, flung her arms about Kate's neck and kissed her, Ray meanwhile looking on with a slow comprehension ; Aunt Ann put on her spectacles. '"What's the matter?" she asked, mildly. " Why, Kate and Uncle John," explained Mar- gery, incoherently. " Just the loveliest thing in the world." " There goes my pretty sister, the minute I've secured her," grumbled Ray, with the broadest ( smiles. " You were the man all the time, Uncle John. Confound my stupidity." Aunt Ann beamed first upon one and then upon the NEXT DOOR. Other with surprise and delight. But a gratified sense of her own perspicacity suddenly possessed her. "Kate, you know I always said " she began. Kate put a hand over her mouth. "Never mind what you always said, Aunt Ann." Margery danced over to where Kits was sitting, and caught him up. " Wish her joy, Kits," she said, forcing his paw into Kate's hand. " You shall have a new blue satin ribbon, and dance at the wedding." Kits gave a loud meow of disgust as he leaped down. He had lost his chance with the sparrow. But Aunt Ann had to go in to see about supper, and Margery had to walk up to the house with Ray, and Kate and John were left alone under the great elm tree. The latter stood looking down at Kate's averted face with a great content in his eyes. She lifted hers to meet them. "Your mother," she said, softly and regretfully. M This is why she went away." Exton smiled re-assuringly. " Shall I tell you what rny mother will do in the future?" he asked. " I am not sure that I wish to hear." "Yes, you do. When you have won the hearts of her dear five hundred, and she hears your praises, she will return and take all the credit of having discov- ered you. You may have to endure a little patronage from her, but it will be affectionate." WOOD VIOLETS. 371 " I am afraid you are like the majority of for- tune-tellers, and tell only what I wish to hear," re- sponded the girl, nevertheless comforted. They exchanged a look in which Mrs. Exton was entirely forgotten. "When shall we go South, Kate?" " I do not care so much as I did about climates." "Let it be at the new year. Will you, dear? Let the new year and the new life begin together., and it should be among the flowers." " Yes, there should be plenty of flowers," an swered Kate. A 000 094 324 1