rl, and when, after a single look, she throws her arms around
his neck and kisses him, the capture is likely to be as complete as any
that could take place in life. When Lois Huntington, after asking about
his baggage, and exclaiming because he had sent his trunk on to New York
and had brought only a valise, as if he were only stopping off between
trains, finally settled herself down beside the General and took the
reins of the little vehicle that she had come in, there was, perhaps,
not a more pleased old gentleman in the world than the one who sat
beside her.

"How you have grown!" he said, gazing at her with admiration. "Somehow,
I always thought of you as a little girl--a very pretty little girl."

She thought of what his son had said at their meeting at the ball.

"But you know one must grow some, and it has been eleven years since
then. Think how long that has been!"

"Eleven years! Does that appear so long to you?" said the old man,
smiling. "So it is in our youth. Gordon wrote me of his meeting you and
of how you had changed."

I wonder what he meant by that, said Lois to herself, the color mounting
to her cheek. "He thought I had changed, did he?" she asked tentatively,
after a moment, a trace of grimness stealing into her face, where it lay
like a little cloud in May.

"Yes; he hardly knew you. You see, he did not have the greeting that I
got."

"I should think not!" exclaimed Lois. "If he had, I don't know what he
might have thought!" She grew as grave as she could.

"He said you were the sweetest and prettiest girl there, and that all
the beauty of New York was there, even the beautiful Mrs.--what is her
name? She was Miss Yorke."

Lois's face relaxed suddenly with an effect of sunshine breaking through
a cloud.

"Did he say that?" she exclaimed.

"He did, and more. He is a young man of some discernment," observed the
old fellow, with a chuckle of gratification.

"Oh, but he was only blinding you. He is in love with Mrs. Lancaster."

"Not he."

But Lois protested guilefully that he was.

A little later she asked the General:

"Did you ever hear of any one in New Leeds who was named Terpsichore?"

"Terpsichore? Of course. Every one knows her there. I never saw her
until she became a nurse, when she was nursing my son. She saved his
life, you know?"

"Saved his life!" Her face had grown almost grim. "No, I never heard of
it. Tell me about it."

"Saved his life twice, indeed," said the