her other hand. As for Alec and Bob, it did
not matter much to them whose hands they held, so that the circle moved
briskly and sang lustily. And this it surely did.

"Are you happy, little girl?" asked Jarvis, bending to speak into Sally's
ear, as the circle broke up.

Smiling, Sally dashed away a tear. "So happy I'm almost crying," she
owned. "It's beginning to seem as if we were going to have a--home, a
real home once more--as much as we ever can--without--"

"I understand," he whispered, and led her away down the hall, that she
might recover the poise the singing of the old song had shaken.

"They must have been here often when we children were little," she
murmured, pausing by the open door under the staircase, which led to a
side porch. Just here she was hidden from the rest.

"I'm sure they were. I remember driving out here once with your father,
and seeing him sit in front of that hall fireplace with your Uncle
Maxwell, talking business. They were here more, I imagine, when you were
very small, than afterward, when you were old enough to remember."

"They've been here," said Sally softly. "They've walked about these old
floors and looked out of these windows. That makes it home to me. And if
I can only make it home to the others--"

"You couldn't help making it home--anywhere."

"Oh, Jarvis, you're such a good friend!--I keep telling you that, till
you must be tired of hearing it."

"I'm not tired of hearing it."

There followed an eloquent little silence, during which Jarvis took the
girl's hand in both his own and held it close in a way which meant to her
the comprehending sympathy with all her joys and sorrows which he had
long given her. To him it meant so much more that he dared not give
expression to it in any but this mute fashion. But his heart beat high
with longing and with hope, though he was firmly bidding himself
wait--and wait a long time yet before he put his fortune to the touch,
"to win or lose it all!"

Then Sally wiped her eyes, put her handkerchief away, and faced about.

"Now I can go back," she said. "Thank you for giving me a chance to put
Sally Lunn in order. The mistress of a mansion like this must always have
herself in hand, mustn't she?"

Standing on her own hearth-stone, Sally said good-night to all her guests
like the grand lady she gayly affected to be. But like the girl she was,
she ran after them to wave her hand at them from the big porch, crying,
"Come again--ple