f
he might keep them, and--and--that's all," finished Kittie, quite
shamefacedly.

"How romantic!" sighed Kat. "He'll say something pretty soon, and I'm
very glad. It would be dreadful for one of us to go, and not the other.
But it all seems odd, doesn't it, dear?"

So they sat together for a long time, dreaming the dream that comes
rosily and sweet to all, and the silent clasp of their arms, and the
pressure of their cheeks, laid together in the twilight, expressed the
warm love that mutual joy brightened; and into this new experience, as
in all that had come to them, they went hand in hand.

After awhile, Kat went down to the parlors, where the young people were,
and a very funny thing happened. It was too warm to dance, play games,
or, in fact, remain in the house; so they strolled out in the yard, and
over the veranda, and once, as Kat sat alone in a big rustic chair, she
saw Mr. Murray coming towards her. The light fell through the window,
and out on to her face and head, showing a silver butterfly that Pansy
had given to Kittie, fastened in her hair; and guided by this, Mr.
Murray drew near, and paused at her side, never doubting that she was
the one he had been in search of. A few words were sufficient to reveal
his mistake to Kat, but some mischievous impulse kept her quiet as to
her identity, so they talked on and on, and presently he began to tell
of the home he had prepared in the city, and Kat's heart sank with a
sudden thump, but what could she say? He went on without giving her
chance to utter a word, and just as she was growing cold with
apprehension, and hardly hearing what he was telling, he laid his hand
on hers that were clasped in her lap, and said very tenderly:

"Will you share it with me, darling? I have hoped and dreamed that you
would, and have made it beautiful for your sake. It has been many, many
months since the sweet possibility"--but there Kat jumped up, scarlet
and ashamed.

"Oh, Mr. Murray! I'm not Kittie; I'm so sorry; but I thought--I meant--I
don't know just what. I'll tell her to come down and I think she will,"
Kat cried incoherently, and vanished with a complicated and wonderful
gesture of her hands, that might have passed for a supplication for
forgiveness, a benediction, or total despair, or most anything.

"Go down stairs," were her first words, as she rushed into the room
where Kittie sat, and cast herself on to the bed with a hysterical
laugh. "I've been, and gone, and