lter this arrangement;
and Mr. Shubrick walked home with her. It was a very matter-of-fact
walk, however. There was as nearly as possible no conversation between
the two. Nevertheless, the walk had its fascination for Dolly. The
stately, straight, manly figure beside her, inspired her with an
admiration which had a little awe mixed with it; to walk with him, even
in silence, was an undoubted pleasure; and when he took leave of her at
the door of her lodgings and turned away, Dolly felt, and not till
then, that her holiday was over.

She went up the stairs slowly. Her short holiday was over. Now work
again. Well! Dolly remembered the conclusion of last night's thoughts
in the moonlight; took up her burden on her shoulders, and carried it
up stairs with her.

She found her mother alone.

"Dearest mother, how do you do?" she said, kissing her; "and how has
the day been? I have stayed away pretty late, but I could hardly help
it; and I have had a very nice time."

"I don't like holidays," was Mrs. Copley's answer. "They're the
wearisomest days I know; especially when every one else is out and
enjoying himself. This Christmas has been a year long, seems to me. Who
did you see?"

"Just themselves, and Christina's friend, Mr. Shubrick."

"What's he like?"

"He's very fine, mother, I think. Christina ought to be a happy woman."

"He hasn't got anything, as I understand?" said Mrs. Copley. "I don't
think Mrs. Thayer is at all delighted with the match. I know I
shouldn't be."

"Mrs. Thayer does not see things with my eyes, probably; and you don't
see them at all, mother, dear, not knowing Mr. Shubrick. Look at my
presents; see this lovely cameo ring; Christina gave it to me Christmas
Eve; and this brooch is from Mrs. Thayer; and Mr. Thayer gave me this
dear little bronze lamp."

"What do you want with such a thing as that? you can't use it."

"Oh, for the antique beauty, mother; and the lovely shape. It's real
bronze, and Mr. Thayer says the workmanship is very fine."

"But he has nothing, has he?" said Mrs. Copley, weighing the bronze
lamp in her hand disapprovingly.

"Who? He has another just like it. Do you mean Mr. Thayer?"

"Pshaw, child, no! I mean the other man, Christina's intended. He has
nothing, has he?"

"I do not know what you call 'nothing.' He has a very fine figure, an
excellent face, sense and firmness and gentleness; and a manner that's
fascinating. I never saw anybody with a finer manner. I