hat
made him ashamed to think of her. But his luck had taken a wonderful
turn. He had made his pile. He was just on the verge of losing
everything again, and going to the dogs last winter, when a fine old
chum of his sent him a haul of money. It came just in the nick of
time, and not only saved him, but made his fortune. Yes, that friend
was a bully old chap, but he wasn't going to tell her anything about
him just now; there was a big surprise in store for her. And he was a
rich man now, and she might wear silk dresses all the rest of her life
if she liked. And he was coming home in June, just as fast as the
train could carry him, and if it didn't go fast enough he would get out
and run ahead. That is, if she wanted him still. Did she think she
could forgive him? Forgive him! Miss Arabella wiped her eyes to read
that again, wondering dimly what it meant. Or had she forgotten him in
these long years, or was she still waiting? Somehow, he couldn't help
thinking it would be just like her to wait. And was Polly living yet?
And could she still say "Annie Laurie" as he had taught her? And had
she kept the blue silk, as she had promised? She must answer right
away, and if she did not want him he would not come; but if she
did--well, look out--there would be a wedding along about the first of
June.

Again and again Miss Arabella read the letter, trying to convince her
dazed senses that it was real. When she had succeeded in grasping
something of the joyous truth she arose dizzily and went to the dresser
drawer. Very carefully she took out the roll of blue silk, and laying
the letter between its shining folds, she sat down and cried over them.

"You didn't wear out, after all," she sobbed, running her fingers
gently over the blue folds, "no, you didn't."

She was roused by the clicking of the front gate, and peeped fearfully
under the window-blind. Susan was coming! She had paused for a moment
to harangue the orphans, who were splashing up and down the middle of
the road, knee deep in mud. Miss Arabella sprang up in a panic. Susan
would find out. There would be no use trying to hide from her that
something tremendous had happened, and she and William and the children
would laugh at old Aunt Arabella's foolishness. And Susan would step
in, with her strong will, and turn poor Martin away, as she had done so
long ago. She must get away; she must find some hiding place for her
secret. She snatched up the