ibbon. For a moment she hesitated, as though she were both mentally and
physically weighing the objects held in either hand. A shadow of strange
uncertainty came into her eyes, the outward expression of an inward
uncertainty foreign to her nature. Slowly, she turned from her
reflection in the mirror and dropped down on the edge of the daintily
counterpaned bed. With hesitating fingers she untied the ribbon from the
package and began to glance through the unbound letters, pausing at
intervals to read stray paragraphs from them. Each one began and ended
almost the same--"Dear little Smiles" and "Affectionately your friend,
Donald."

There was the one which contained the allegory of the steep path--which
now lay behind her; the one in which he told her of little Donald's
advent into the world and of his own betrothal to Marion Treville, and
as she read that sentence which held so much of import in the lives of
both of them, she sighed, "Poor Don. He hasn't mentioned her; but her
faithlessness must have struck deep, for he is, oh, so changed and more
reserved." There were other letters filled with the spirit of
_camaraderie_, and then the later ones, strong, simple, with their
stories of others' sacrifice in the great cause of humanity.

When the last one was read and laid upon the others, she sat with them
in her lap for a moment, musing. The suspicion of tears shone in her
eyes as she finally shook her head, and, evening them carefully, retied
them.

"No," she whispered, half aloud, "I mustn't be foolish. He's just my
brother, that is the way he cares for me. It has always been like that.
And I ... I mustn't be foolish."

Almost angrily she brushed away the single tear which had started its
uncertain course down her cheek.

With a gesture of resolution, she stood up and placed the package in its
box. The other letter was about to follow; but, as she started to lay it
down, she changed her mind, and, with the flush again mounting her
cheeks, took it from the envelope, which bore a special delivery stamp,
postmarked in Boston that very morning.

Opening it, she read:

"My dearest Smiles:

Will you be the bearer of a message from me to your kind hostess?
As you know, she has invited me down to Manchester-by-the-Sea for
the week-end, as a surprise for Donald, and I have heretofore been
unable to give a definite answer. Now I have banished everything
else from my mind and shall arrive ab