ression.

"Why, Katie can't come. I declare I could sit down and cry. I
sha'n't enjoy the party a bit now, and I wish it were all over."

"I am sure Katie would be very unhappy if she thought you were
going to spoil your day's pleasure on her account."

"Yes, I know she would. But it is so provoking when I had looked
forward so to having her."

"You have never told me why she cannot come. She was quite full
of it all a few days since."

"Oh, there is a poor old woman in the village dying, who is a
great friend of Katie's. Here is her letter; let me see," she
said, glancing over it to see that there is nothing in it that
she did not wish him to read, "you may read it if you like."

Tom began reading. "Betty Winburn," he said, when he came to the
name, "what, poor dear old Betty? why I've known her ever since I
was born. She used to live in our parish, and I haven't seen her
this eight years nearly. And her boy Harry, I wonder what has
become of him?"

"You will see if you read on," said Mary; and so he read to the
end, and then folded it up and returned it.

"So poor old Betty is dying. Well she was always a good soul, and
very kind to me when I was a boy. I should like to see her once
again, and perhaps I might be able to do something for her son."

"Why should we not ride over to Englebourn to-morrow? They will
be glad to get us out of the way while the house is being
straightened."

"I should like it of all things, if it can be managed."

"Oh, I will manage it somehow, for I must go and see that dear
Katie. I do feel so ashamed of myself when I think of all the
good she is doing, and I do nothing but put flowers about, and
play the piano. Isn't she an angel, now?"

"Of course she is."

"Yes, but I won't have that sort of matter-of-course
acquiescence. Now--do you really mean that Katie is as good as an
angel?"

"As seriously as if I saw the wings growing out of her shoulders,
and dew drops hanging on them."

"You deserve to have some thing not at all like wings growing out
of your head. How is it that you never see when I don't want you
to talk your nonsense?"

"How am I to talk sense about angels? I don't know anything about
them."

"You know what I mean perfectly. I say that dear Katie is an
angel, and I mean that I don't know anything in her--no not one
single thing--which I should like to have changed. If the angels
are all as good as she"--

"_If_! why I shall begin to doubt your orthod