s
in his broad face than when we saw him last. Mrs. Collinson sat near
him, plump and smiling as ever, and Mrs. O'Brien talked to her
exhaustively.

In the pauses of the general murmur of talk that filled the room, her
words sounded clearly, with the full power of an incisive soprano.
"And so I took the sleeves out, and turned the skirt, and now it's as
good as ever for ordinary wear. And sure, my nasturtium-coloured
tabinet is only for the best occasions, and so I told O'Brien. But
there! What sense has a man in these matters, my dear?"

"And did you put the frills on again," inquired Mrs. Collinson, with
smiling interest. And then the hum of talk arose, drowning even that
penetrating soprano for a while. But soon it rose again above the
other voices. "And a fine lass she is," it said, "and it's happy your
Roger ought to be, me dear. But Dick's a fine fellow, too, by all
accounts. Though, as for me, William Charles was always the one for my
money. He 's a head on his shoulders, has that boy." Whereupon a
general laugh ensued.

The "boy" in question, now a tall young man, was joking solemnly with
the three O'Brien boys. And there was Stephanie, tall, and grave, and
quiet, with Roger beaming at her from the other side of the room, all
unconscious that his face was an open book to whoever chose to read it.
There was Nonie O'Brien, with her pink cheeks and her bright eyes, and
her sweet, soft Irish speech. And there also was Dick.

He was sitting in the shadow, grave and somewhat silent, except when
Nonie teased him, which she did frequently. Her treatment of him was a
standing joke with the two families, as was also his meekness and
patience in putting up with it. He was almost less changed in the
three years than were any of the other young people; still one might
have seen in him a certain dreaminess and tendency to choose the easier
path, which were as much characteristic of him as his deeply sunburned
face and short, fair hair were characteristic of his outward
appearance. Yet there were many changes in him, after all.

Since his return from the wilds, Dick had never swerved from his
purpose. His shame and boyish pride yielded to Stephanie's entreaties,
and he accepted the work on the homestead which good Mr. Collinson
freely offered. Here he had been ever since, facing cheerfully the
humdrum round of toil, turning a deaf ear and unseeing eye to the
beauties and delights of the wilds, and bent