on having my father. You know they're old friends."

"Mr. Thorpe is old and your father is old," corrected Araminta,
precisely, "but they haven't been friends long. Aunt Hitty says you
must always say what you mean."

"That is what I meant. Each is old and both are friends. See?"

"It must be nice to be men," sighed Araminta, "and have friends. I've
never had anybody but Aunt Hitty--and you," she added, in a lower tone,

"'No money, no friends, nothing but relatives,'" quoted Ralph,
cynically. "It's hard lines, little maid--hard lines." He walked back
and forth across the small room, his hands clasped behind his back--a
favourite attitude, Araminta had noted, during the month of her illness.

He pictured his probable reception should he venture to call upon her.
Personally, as it was, he stood none too high in the favour of the
dragon, as he was wont to term Miss Mehitable in his unflattering
thoughts. Moreover, he was a man, which counted heavily against him.
Since he had taken up his father's practice, he had heard a great deal
about Miss Mehitable's view of marriage, and her determination to
shield Araminta from such an unhappy fate.

And Araminta had not been intended, by Dame Nature, for such shielding.
Every line of her body, rounding into womanhood, defied Aunt Hitty's
well-meant efforts. The soft curve of her cheek, the dimples that
lurked unsuspected in the comers of her mouth, the grave, sweet
eyes--all these marked Araminta for love. She had, too, a wistful,
appealing childishness.

"Did you like the story book?" asked Ralph.

"Oh, so much!"

"I thought you would. What part of it did you like best?"

"It was all lovely," replied Araminta, thoughtfully, "but I think the
best part of it was when she went back to him after she had made him go
away. It made him so glad to know that they were to talk together
again."

Ralph looked keenly at Araminta, the love of man and woman was so
evidently outside her ken. The sleeping princess in the tower had been
no more set apart. But, as he remembered; the sleeping princess had
been wakened by a kiss--when the right man came.

A lump came into his throat and he swallowed hard. Blindly, he went
over to her chair. The girl's flower-like face was lifted
questioningly to his. He bent over and kissed her, full upon the lips.

Araminta shrank from him a little, and the colour surged into her face,
but her eyes, still trustful, still tender, never