on't seem so long--but Laura here!"

"You didn't expect me to stay a little girl all my life, did you,
David?"

"No, no." He took her by the shoulder and shook her a little and pinched
her cheeks. "What roses! Why, sis, I say, you know, I'm proud of you.
What have you been up to, anyway?" He flung himself on the sofa and
pulled her down beside him. "Give an account of yourself."

"I've gone in for athletics."

"Right."

"And-- Oh! lots of things. You give an account of yourself."

David glanced at his mother. She was seated opposite them, regarding him
with brimming eyes. No, he could not give an account of himself yet. He
would wait until he and his mother were alone. He lifted Laura's heavy
hair, which, confined only by a great bow of black ribbon, hung
streaming down her back, in a dark mass that gave her a tousled, unkempt
look, and which, taken together with her dead black dress, and her dark
tanned skin, roughened by exposure to wind and sun, greatly marred her
beauty, in spite of her roses and the warmth of her large dark eyes.

As David surveyed his sister, he thought of Cassandra, and was minded
then and there to describe her--to attempt to unveil the events of the
past year, and make them see and know, as far as possible, what his life
had been. He held this thought a moment, poised ready for utterance--a
moment of hesitation as to how to begin, and then forever lost, as his
mother began speaking.

"Laura hasn't come out yet. As events have turned, it is just as well,
for her chances, naturally, will be much better now than they would have
been if we had had her coming out last year."

"I don't see how, mamma, with all this heavy black. I can't come out
until I leave it off, and it will be so long to wait." Laura pouted a
little, discontentedly, then flushed a disfiguring flush of shame under
her dark skin, as she caught the look in her brother's eyes. "Not but
what I shall keep on mourning for Bob, as long as I live--he was such a
dear," she added, her eyes filling with quick, impulsive tears. "But how
you make out my chances will be better now, mamma, I can't see,
really,--I look such a fright."

"Chances for what?" asked David, dryly.

"For matrimony--naturally," his sister flung out defiantly, half smiling
through her tears. "Don't you know that's all a girl of my age lives
for--matrimony and a kennel? I mean to have one, now we will have our
own preserves. It will be ripping, you know."

"C