t think we can see him," she began.

"Why, of course, I must see him, mamma. I would not miss seeing him for
anything in the world. Go down, Bower, and say I will be down directly."
The servant disappeared.

"Now, Alice," protested her mother, who had already exhausted several
arguments, such as the inconvenience of the hour, the impoliteness of
keeping the visitor waiting, as she would have to do to dress, and
several other such excuses as will occur to mammas who have plans of
their own for their daughters and unexpectedly receive the card of a
young man who, by a bare possibility, may in ten minutes upset the work
of nearly two years--"Now, Alice, I think it very wrong in you to do
anything to give that young man any idea that you are going to reopen
that old affair."

Alice protested that she had no idea of doing anything like that. There
was no "old affair." She did not wish to be rude when he had taken the
trouble to call--that was all.

"Fudge!" exclaimed Mrs. Yorke. "Trouble to call! Of course, he will take
the trouble to call. He would call a hundred times if he thought he
could get--" she caught her daughter's eye and paused--"could get you.
But you have no right to cause him unhappiness."

"Oh, I guess I couldn't cause him much unhappiness now. I fancy he is
all over it now," said the girl, lightly. "They all get over it. It's a
quick fever. It doesn't last, mamma. How many have there been?"

"You know better. Isn't he always sending you books and things? He is
not like those others. What would Mr. Lancaster say?"

"Oh, Mr. Lancaster! He has no right to say anything," pouted the girl,
her face clouding a little. "Mr. Lancaster will say anything I want him
to say," she added as she caught sight of her mother's unhappy
expression. "I wish you would not always be holding him up to me. I like
him, and he is awfully good to me--much better than I deserve; but I get
awfully tired of him sometimes: he is so serious. Sometimes I feel like
breaking loose and just doing things. I do!" She tossed her head and
stamped her foot with impatience like a spoiled child.

"Well, there is Ferdy?--" began her mother.

The girl turned on her.

"I thought we had an understanding on that subject, mamma. If you ever
say anything more about my marrying Ferdy, I _will_ do things! I vow
I will!"

"Why, I thought you professed to like Ferdy, and he is certainly in love
with you."

"He certainly is not. He is in love with L