e lovely autumn world about
them, full of gay hues, fresh airs, and mellow sunshine.

"That reminds me that I didn't get a chance to hear much about your
plans last night the other boys all talked at once, and you only got a
word now and then. What have you decided to be, Mac?" asked Rose as they
went up the avenue side by side.

"A man first, and a good one if possible. After that, what God pleases."

Something in the tone, as well as the words, made Rose look up quickly
into Mac's face to see a new expression there. It was indescribable, but
she felt as she had often done when watching the mists part suddenly,
giving glimpses of some mountaintop, shining serene and high against the
blue.

"I think you will be something splendid, for you really look quite
glorified, walking under this arch of yellow leaves with the sunshine on
your face," she exclaimed, conscious of a sudden admiration never felt
before, for Mac was the plainest of all the cousins.

"I don't know about that, but I have my dreams and aspirations, and
some of them are pretty high ones. Aim at the best, you know, and keep
climbing if you want to get on," he said, looking at the asters with an
inward sort of smile, as if he and they had some sweet secret between
them.

"You are queerer than ever. But I like your ambition, and hope you will
get on. Only mustn't you begin at something soon? I fancied you would
study medicine with Uncle that used to be our plan, you know."

"I shall, for the present at least, because I quite agree with you that
it is necessary to have an anchor somewhere and not go floating off into
the world of imagination without ballast of the right sort. Uncle and
I had some talk about it last night and I'm going to begin as soon as
possible, for I've mooned long enough," and giving himself a shake, Mac
threw down the pretty spray, adding half aloud:

"Chide me not, laborious band,
For the idle flowers I brought:

Every aster in my hand
Goes home laden with a thought."

Rose caught the words and smiled, thinking to herself, "Oh, that's it
he is getting into the sentimental age and Aunt Jane has been lecturing
him. Dear me, how we are growing up!"

"You look as if you didn't like the prospect very well," she said
aloud, for Mac had rammed the volume of Shelley into his pocket and the
glorified expression was so entirely gone, Rose fancied she had been
mistaken about the mountaintop behind the mists.

"Ye