name, "Marion J. Wilbur," a pretty enough
name. She smiled tenderly over the initial of "J"--nobody knew what that
was for.

Suppose the girls knew that it stood for "Josiah," her father's name;
that he had named her, after the mother was buried, Marion--that after
the mother, Josiah--that after the father, Wilbur--the dear name that
belonged to them both; in this way fancying in his gentle heart that he
linked this child to them both in a way that would be dear to her to
remember.

It was dear; she loved him for it; she thoroughly understood the
feeling, but hardly any one else would. So she thought she had never
given them a chance to smile over the queer name her father had given.
She could smile herself, but she wanted no one else to do so.

Then she wrote "Grace L. Dennis." What a pretty name that was. She knew
what the "L" was for--Lawrence, the family name--Grace's mother's name.
Her mother, too, had died when she was a wee baby. Gracie remembered
her, though, and by that memory so much more did she miss her.

Marion knew how that was by her remembrance of her father. All the same
she would not have that blotted out, by so much richer was Gracie than
herself, and then that living, loving father. Marion smiled over the
folly of Grace Dennis considering her life a lonely one. "Yet, I presume
she feels it, poor darling," she said aloud, and with a sigh. It was
true that every heart knew its own bitterness.

Then she said, "I really must go to work at these reports. I wonder what
the girls are doing this evening? Eurie is nursing her mother, I
suppose. Blessed Eurie! mother and father both within the fold, brought
there by Eurie's faithful life. Mrs. Mitchell told me so, herself. What
a sparkle that will make in Eurie's crown. I wonder what Ruth meant this
morning? Poor child! she has trouble too; different from mine. Why as to
that, I really haven't any. Ruth ought to 'count her marcies,' though,
as old Dinah says. She has a great deal that I haven't. Yes, indeed, she
has! I suppose little Flossy is going through tribulation over that
tiresome party. I wonder why one-half of the world have to exist by
tormenting the other half? Now, Marion Wilbur, stop scribbling names and
go to work."

Steady scratching from the old steel pen a few minutes, then a knock and
a message: "Dr. Dennis wanted to see her a few minutes, if she had
leisure."

"Dr. Dennis!" she said, rising quickly and pushing away her papers. "Oh,