t the sitting-room would
now be in demand; whereupon he gave a hasty good-bye, and left; not
without a little envy for Dr. Barnett, who entered at the same moment,
and who came, in the full assurance of recognized right, such as was not
yet Paul Murray's.

Of course, the family discreetly retired, after a few words of greeting
to the young man, and while the cozy sitting-room took unto itself these

"Two souls with but a single thought,"

the others went up to Ernestine's room to finish the evening.

CHAPTER XXII.

TO REAR, TO LOVE, AND THEN TO LOSE.

Spring came, and with it much that was of absorbing interest, of untold
importance, and yet so sad. In May, Bea would leave the home of
childhood and girlhood, and would be mistress of one of the prettiest
little cottages in Canfield. She was blithely happy, and sang and sewed
from morning until night, in a blissful content, that made mother and
sisters smile and sigh at once; and wonder how home would seem with Bea
gone. Such marvels of pretty things as had been made, and such a little
gem of a bower, as the new home was, and how happy and gay everything
was, to be sure. Every Saturday night, when Olive came home from the
city, her first trip was to the little cottage, to see the latest
improvements; for there were several, in the way of a verandah, a frail,
spidery looking summer-house, with a sick looking vine started over one
corner, a new front fence, and a hitching post. Each and every one was
of greatest importance and everybody in Canfield was as interested, as
though they were one great family, just marrying off their first
daughter. Bea visited her future dominion every day, as did the twins;
but Ernestine was not to go, until everything was ready for the new
occupants, and then she was to pass her opinion on the whole, and
suggest any changes that might strike her graceful fancy.

"It must have a name," said Bea, coming in one day, just a week before
the wedding. "When Meg got married in 'Little Women,' she went to
housekeeping in a little cottage, and they called it Dovecot. What shall
I call mine?"

"Call it a house and let it go; better not begin with fancy names and
all that, it won't last," advised Kat, rigidly practical.

"Yes, it will--always," asserted Bea, with the fond delusive belief,
experienced by every women when in love, that life will be one endless
courtship and honey-moon.

"I think a name is a pretty idea," said Kittie,