isturb her much, although Alice
noticed that she was more quiet than ever and avoided that subject.

"I'm ready an' willin' to go if you think best," she said; "and I'll do
my best as long as I can. I hain't got long to stay, and if I see you
two happy, I'm content."

It was the pathos of old age, and it touched Alice's heart.

Two weeks before Christmas came a cordial letter from Blanch, reminding
Alice of her promise to visit her during the holidays and insisting that
she do so now. With it was enclosed an equally cordial but brief note of
invitation from Mrs. Nason. Alice replied to both in due form and with
profuse thanks, also stating that she had promised her brother she would
visit him during her vacation, and hoped to have one or two evenings
with them at that time.

"I will let them see I am not a deserted tabby-cat," she said to
herself, "waiting around in the cold until some one opens a door for
me." And then this proud little country girl enclosed both notes to her
brother and told him he had best inform the Nasons of her intended visit
in a matter-of-fact way. "But mind," she added, "you do not let on that
you know they have invited me to visit them. We will do just as we
talked, go there and spend one or two evenings, or perhaps I may meet
them at a theatre, which would be much better."

By return mail came his assurance of obedience and a sizable check. "Use
it all, my dear sis," he wrote, "and for your own needs, too. I do not
want you to feel ashamed of your gowns when you come to Boston."

"Bless his dear heart," said Alice, when she read the letter, "what a
prize that island girl will get in him!" And then she came near crying
at the thought of that possible outcome. But when Christmas came and she
kissed Aunt Susan good-by, she was near giving up the trip altogether.
It may have been the sad face of her aunt that brought the irresolution,
or a feeling that meeting Frank would re-awaken the little heartache she
had for five months been trying to conquer; for this proud girl had
firmly made up her mind that she would utter a very decided "no" if
Frank proposed again. When she reached Boston she was met by her
brother, and for three days he devoted his entire time to her.

"I have not told Frank, even, when you were coming," he observed, "and
shall not let them know you are here until we call." Then he added,
smiling, "I want you to myself for a few days, because after Frank knows
you are here I