given up hope, for it didn't seem as if I ever could go. Oh, how I will
study and draw, so as to make money and make my name;" and overcome with
joy and a desire to shed some happy tears, Olive jumped up and ran out.

In a day or two, however, something happened that deferred Olive's
studies for a while longer. It was from Jean, a long letter, full of
love and longings to see them all, and long reports of what the doctors
were doing for her, and how she could stand straight now without her
crutch, and would soon be able to take a step. And after all that, she
began about Uncle Ridley: how kind and good he was, how she had
everything she could think of; how they loved each other; and then came
this piece of news:

"He wants one of the girls to come and make a visit, mama. He's often
said so; but the other day he told me to write for one of them, which
ever one I wanted, and he would pay her expenses. Now you know I never
could choose which of the girls I'd love to see most, because I want to
see them all so very much. But I think he wants to see Olive; he's often
said so; and he's asked me so much about her, and said he'd like to know
her because she was so impudent to him. Why was she? Do you know, mama?
I think it's so strange, when he's such a dear, darling uncle. Anyhow, I
think it would please him very much if she would come, and oh, how very
happy I would be. Tell me what you think about it, and I do hope she'll
come; and if she can't, please let one of the others, and hurry and let
me know. I can hardly wait."

"Of course you'll go," said Kittie, when the letter was finished, and
the question open to discussion.

"To be sure," said Kat. "Olive, you're a lucky girl. I wish I had been
impudent to him."

"I always have wanted to see Congreve Hall," said Bea, with a little
sigh. "How grand it would seem to live in a magnificent place that had a
name to it. I suppose you'll stay a long time, Olive?"

"I wish he wanted any of you," said Olive, "and I believe he does. It's
all Jeanie's notion, his wanting me. Fix Bea up, mama, and let her go. I
have something else on my mind."

But Mrs. Dering shook her head. "I think Jean is right," she said.
"Uncle Ridley is a peculiar old man and he thinks Olive is much like the
Congreves; he told me so himself, and I think he wants you for that
reason."

So great was Olive's consternation, that she sprang right up from her
seat in dismay.

"Oh, mama! I want to see Jean;