ae's really ill. I wonder if she's afraid of
me, because she cried last night, afraid I took that big tear for more
than it was worth.

"Mae," said Eric, entering her room an hour later, "Norman feels
dreadfully that you are not able to go to-night, and so do I. I suppose
those wretched marbles did it this morning. Couldn't you possibly come?"

"No," replied Mae, rising on her elbow, "but sit down a moment, Eric."

"How pretty you look," said her brother, seating himself by her side.
Mae's hair was tumbled in brown waves that looked as if they couldn't
quite make up their minds to curl, much as they wanted to; her eyes
shone strangely; and the little scarlet shawl that she had drawn over
her head and shoulders was no brighter than her flushed cheeks. She
smiled at her brother, but said hurriedly; "Tell me of your plans for
to-night. I suppose you and Mr. Mann are going with your new friends."

"Yes, Norman will go with me and the girls, but he does it with a bad
enough grace. He's dreadfully tired of Miss Rae; and, to tell you the
truth, Mae, she is rather namby-pamby--very different from Miss Hopkins,
and then, besides, he had so set his heart on going with you to-night."

"O, yes," said Mae, scornfully, and bit her lips.

"Why, Mae, what is the matter with you? You seem to doubt every one
and everything. You know Norman is truth itself." "Is he?" asked Mae,
indifferently.

"I've seen for a long time," continued Eric, "that you two were not the
friends you once were, but I don't understand this open dislike. Doesn't
it spoil your pleasure? You don't seem to have the real old-fashioned
good times, my little girl," and Eric pulled his clumsy dear hand
through a twist of the brown hair caressingly.

"O, Eric," cried Mae, "that is like old times again," and a tear
splattered down into the big hand. "What, crying, Mae?" "No, dear--that
is, yes. I believe I am a little bit homesick. I wish I could go
back behind my teens again. Do you remember the summer that I was
twelve--that summer up by the lake? I wish you and I could paddle around
in one of the old flat-bottomed tubs once more, don't you, Eric? We'd go
for lilies and fish for minnows--that is, we'd fish for perch and catch
the minnows--and talk about when you should go to college and pull in
the race, and I should wear a long dress and learn all the college tunes
to sing with you and your Yale friends. Do you remember, Eric? And
now, O dear me, you lost your ra