ish we might stay and see
her, but we can't."

"Never mind, you will meet her at Christmas time, when the Eight
Originals gather home," comforted Miriam.

"But we'd like to see her now," interposed David mournfully. "What is
Oakdale without Anne?"

At that moment Mrs. Harlowe, who, after Nora's song, had excused herself
and gone into the house, appeared in the door.

"Come, children," she smiled, "the feast is spread."

"May I escort you to the table?" asked David gravely, offering her his
arm. Heading the little procession, they led the way to the dining room,
followed by Reddy and Jessica, Hippy and Nora, Grace, Tom and Miriam.

There for the next hour goodfellowship reigned supreme, and when at last
the various members of the little clan departed for home, each one
carried in his or her heart the conviction that Life could never offer
anything more desirable than these happy evenings which they had spent
together.

"I can't tell you how much I missed Anne to-night," said Grace to her
mother as, arm in arm, they stood on the veranda watching their guests
until they had turned the corner of the next street.

"We all missed her," replied her mother, "but I believe David felt her
absence even more keenly than we did. He is very fond of Anne. I wonder
if she realizes that he really loves her, and that he will some day tell
her so? She is such a quiet, self-contained little girl. Her emotions
are all kept for her work."

"I believe she does," said Grace. "She has never spoken of it to me.
David has been her faithful knight ever since her freshman year at high
school, so she ought to have a faint inkling of what the rest of us
know. I am sorry for David. Anne's art is a powerful rival, and she is
growing fonder of it with every season. If, after she finishes college,
she were to marry David, she would be obliged to give it up. Since the
Southards came into her life she has grown to love her profession so
dearly that I don't imagine she would sacrifice it even for David's
sake."

"It sounds rather strange to hear my little girl talking so wisely of
other people's love affairs," smiled Mrs. Harlowe almost wistfully.

"I know what you are thinking, Motherkin," responded Grace, slipping
both arms about her mother and drawing her gently into the big porch
swing. "You needn't be afraid, though. I don't feel in the least
sentimental over any one, not even Tom Gray, and I like him better than
any other young man I kno