ous,
and I'm sure I think enough of both of you not to put my foot into your
housekeeping. That child's worked pretty hard these four years since
I've known her, and a little vacation won't hurt her."

So it had been settled, and Mrs. Fields was now getting up a dinner for
her "folks," as she affectionately termed them, which was to be little
short of a feast.

Charlotte had written that she and Andy wanted the whole family to come
to dinner with them that first night. All day Celia and her mother had
been busy getting the little house, already in perfect order, into that
state of decorative cheer which suggests a welcome in itself. Now, with
Just's offering of ground-pine, and Celia's scarlet carnations all about
the room, a fire ready laid in the fireplace, and lamps and candles
waiting to be lighted on every side, there seemed nothing to be desired.

"I suppose there's really not another thing we can do," said Celia.

"Absolutely nothing more, that I can see," agreed Mrs. Birch, taking up
her wraps from the chair on which they lay. "You can run over and light
up at the last minute. Really, how long it seems yet to seven o'clock!"

"Doesn't it? And how good it will be to get the dear girl back! Well,
the first month has gone by, mother dear. The worst is over."

Celia spoke cheerfully, but her words were not quite steady. Mrs. Birch
glanced at her.

"You've been a brave daughter," she said, with the quiet composure which
Celia understood did not always cover a peaceful heart. "We shall all
grow used to the change in time. I think sometimes we're not half
thankful enough to have Charlotte so near."

"Oh, I think we are!" Celia protested.

"The children have had a beautiful month. Haven't their letters
been--What's that?"

It was nothing more startling than the front door-bell, but this was so
seldom rung at the bachelor doctor's house, where everybody who wanted
him at all wanted him professionally at the office, that it sent Celia
hastily and anxiously to the door. It was so impossible at this hour,
when the travellers were almost home, not to dread the happening of
something to detain them. At the same moment Mrs. Field put her head in
at the dining-room door. "Land, I do hope it ain't a telegram!" she
observed, in a loud whisper.

It was not a telegram. It was a pale-faced little woman in black, with
two children, a boy and a girl, beside her. Celia looked at them
questioningly.

"This is Doctor Churc