s was of
light blue, with square-cut neck, filled in with creamy white lace. In
her hair nestled a flower, light pink in color, and as Quincy looked at
her he thought of the little blue flower called forget-me-not, and
recalled the fact that wandering one day in the country, during his last
year at college, he had come upon a little brook, both sides of which,
for hundreds of feet, were lined with masses of this modest little
flower. Ah! but this one forget-me-not was more to him than all the
world beside.

The greetings were soon over, and Quincy was assured by both young
ladies that they were happy and contented, and that every requisite for
their comfort had been supplied by Mrs. Gibson.

The reading then began. Rosa possessed a full, flexible, dramatic voice,
and the strong passages were delivered with great fervor, while the sad
or sentimental ones were tinged with a tone of deep pathos.

At the conclusion Alice said, "I wish Miss Very could read my book to
the publishers."

"You forget," remarked Leopold, with a laugh, "that reading it to me
will probably amount to the same thing."

A merry party gathered about Mrs. Gibson's table at dinner, after which
they went for a drive through the streets of the quaint old town. Quincy
had, as the phrenologists say, a great bump for locality. Besides, he
had studied a map of the town while coming down, and, as he remarked,
they couldn't get lost for any great length of time, as Nantucket was an
island, and the water supplied a natural boundary to prevent their
getting too far out of their way.

While Dolly Gibson was helping her mother by wiping the dinner dishes,
she said, with that air of judicial conviction that is shown by some
children, that she guessed that the lady in the red dress was Mr.
Leopold's girl, and that the blind lady in the blue dress was Mr.
Quincy's.

After a light supper they again gathered in the parlor and an hour was
devoted to music. Leopold neither played nor sang, but he was an
attentive and critical listener. It was a beautiful moonlight night, and
Leopold asked Rosa if she would not like to take a walk up on the Cliff.
She readily consented, but Alice pleasantly declined Quincy's invitation
to accompany them, and for the first time since the old days at Mason's
Corner, he and she were alone together.

They talked of Eastborough and Mason's Corner and Aunt Ella for a while.
Then conversation lagged and they sat for a time in a satisfied