ity for the
two families to separate at present--that Katy was too young to have
charge of a house--there came into her eyes a look of such distress that
it went straight to father's heart, and calling her to him, he said:

"Tell me, sunbeam, what is your choice--to stay with us, or have a home
of your own?"

Katy was very white, and her voice trembled as she replied:

"You have been kind to me here, and it is very pleasant; but I guess--I
think--I'm sure--I should like the housekeeping best. I am not so young,
either. Nineteen in July, and when I go home next month I can learn so
much of Aunt Betsy and Aunt Hannah."

Mother looked at Wilford then; but he was looking into the fire, with an
expression anything but favorable to that visit home, fixed now for
April instead of May. But Katy has no discernment, and believes she is
actually going home to learn how to make apple dumplings and pumpkin
pies. In spite of mother, the house is bought, and now she is gone all
day, deciding how it shall be furnished, always leaving Katy out of the
question, as if she were a cipher, and only consulting Wilford's choice.
They will be happier alone, I know. Mrs. General Reynolds says that it
is the way for young people to live; that her son's wife shall never
come home to her, for of course their habits could not be alike; and
then she looked queerly at me, as if she knew I was thinking of
Lieutenant Bob and who his wife might be.

Sybil Grandon is coming home in April or May, and Mrs. Reynolds wonders
will she flirt as she used to do. Just as if Bob would care for a widow.
There is more danger from Will, who thinks Mrs. Grandon a perfect
paragon, and who is very anxious that Katy may appear well before her,
saying nothing and doing nothing which shall in any way approximate to
Silverton and the shoes which Katy told Esther she used to bind when a
girl. Will need not be disturbed, for Sybil Grandon was never half as
pretty as Katy, or half as much admired. Neither need Mrs. General
Reynolds fret about Bob, as if he would care for her. Sybil Grandon,
indeed!

CHAPTER XVI.

KATY.

For nearly four months Katy had been in New York, drinking deep draughts
from the cup of folly and fashion held so constantly to her lips; but
she cloyed of it at last, and what at first had been so eagerly grasped,
began, from daily repetition, to grow insipid and dull. To be the belle
of every place, to know that her dress, her style, and eve