aim, so
you had better subside at once my dear," answered Kittie with a smile at
her twin, which looked like most anything except a war-like preparation.

"There's the gate, the boys are coming," was the answer of Mrs. Kat, and
sure enough, there arose a clatter of feet on the porch, a smell of
cigar smoke in the air, and in came "the boys," with the usual amount of
noise, which boys, big or little, invariably make; and then grandma came
flitting down stairs, with a smile and a warning "hush;" and there they
were all together.

Supper was a gloriously gay meal, where every one's health was drank in
fragrant coffee, from Grandma Dering, down to Prince, who had been
returned to the home of his youth, and was passing his last days in
peaceful content, with just enough exercise to keep his old bones from
rusting out too fast. And then they talked of those who were gone from
the circle: Father Dering, Ernestine, and lastly, dear old Uncle Ridley,
who had died that year, and for whom every one had such a warm loving
memory.

After supper the boys went off to the library to smoke, and mother and
daughters clustered together in the dear old sitting-room, to chat
lovingly as in other days; for now, as then, the sweet motherly face, to
which they still looked for love, comfort, and praise, was the dearest
in the world to them, and the loveliest, they all thought, with its
serene happy smile and contented loving eyes.

"Has anybody any disappointments to tell to-night," she asked, looking
around at the bright happy faces, and remembering another night long
ago, when they all sat so, and told such.

"Yes, I've got one," announced Kat, just as briskly as she had done on
that other night. "I can't, to save my life, arrive at the point where I
will always look stately and unruffled, and ready to receive callers, in
spite of babies and household work, as Mrs. McGregor does, who lives
opposite me. And then, I do believe that Thomas is going to be short and
fat, instead of tall and slim, and from present indications I think he
will prefer being a clown to anything else in the world. That's my
disappointment, and it's just about as sensible as my other, but it's
the best I've got. What's yours, Kittie?"

"I don't know, I'm sure," answered Kittie, looking down into Pansy's
upturned face, and laying her hand lovingly on the curly head. "I have
the dearest husband, and two of the most precious little daughters in
the world, and what m