approached the house and entered Miss Belinda's presence.

There are some persons whose prerogative it is to carry sunshine with
them wherever they go. Clarence Ensign was one of these. Without an
effort, without any display of incongruous hilarity, he always succeeded
by the mere joyousness of his own nature, in calling forth all that was
bright and enjoyable in others. When therefore they stepped into the
quaint old-fashioned parlor, all prepared to receive them, Paula was not
surprised to perceive it brighten, and her aunts' faces grow cheerful
and smiling. Who could meet Clarence Ensign's laughing eye and not
smile? What did astonish her, however, was the sight of an elegant
basket of hot-house lowers perched on a table in the centre of the room.
It made her pause, and cast looks of inquiry at the demure countenance
of Miss Abby, and the quietly satisfied expression of her more
thoughtful aunt.

"A remembrance from the city!" said Mr. Ensign gracefully. "I thought it
might help to recall some happy hours to you."

With a swelling of the heart which she could not understand, she leaned
over the ample cluster of roses and heliotrope. She felt as though she
could embrace them; they were more than flowers, they were the visible
emblem of all she had missed, and for which she had longed these many
months.

"I seem to receive the whole in the part," said she.

He may or may not have understood her, but he saw she was gratified, and
that was sufficient. The afternoon flew by on wings of light. Miss
Belinda, who was not accustomed to holidays, but who thoroughly
appreciated them when they came, entered into the conversation with
zest; while Miss Abby's unconscious expressions of pleasure were too
_naive_ not to add to, rather than detract from the general enjoyment.
The twilight, with its good-bye, came all too soon.

"I have a request to make before I go," said Mr. Ensign. He was standing
alone with Paula in the embrasure of the window, a few moments before
his departure. "When we see a flower nodding on a ledge above our heads,
we long for it; I have heard you talk of friendship, and a great desire
has seized me. Miss Fairchild will you be my friend?"

She gave him a startled glance that, however, soon settled into a mellow
radiant look of sympathy and pleasure.

"That is asking for something which if I hesitate to accord, it is
because the word, 'friend,' carries with it so much," said she, with a
sweet seriou