e him again,--you are
young and most likely will,--assure him there never was a moment that I
ceased to love him. Perhaps I have not taken as much pains to understand
him as I might have. I suppose different influences act upon the new
generation. If we should both live to welcome him back----"

"Oh, we must, Uncle Win."

"If he has you----" Oh, what was he saying?

"You will both have me. I shall stay here always."

He stooped and kissed her.

The other alternative, that Cary might not return, they banished
resolutely. But it drew them nearer together in unspoken sympathy.

Everybody noted how thin and frail-looking Mr. Adams had grown. Doris
became his constant companion. She had a well-trained horse now, and
they rode a good deal. Or they walked down Washington street, where
there were some pretty shops, and met promenaders. They sauntered about
Cornhill, where Uncle Win picked up now and then an odd book, and they
discovered strange things that had belonged to the Old Boston of a
hundred years agone. There was quite an art gallery in Cornhill kept by
Dogget & Williams--the nucleus of great things to come. It was quite the
fashion for young ladies to drop in and exercise their powers of budding
criticism or love of art. Now and then someone lent a portrait of
Smibert's or Copley's, or you found some fine German or English
engravings. An elder person generally accompanied the younger people.
The law students, released from their labors, or the young society men,
would walk home beside the chaperone, but talk to the maidens.

Then Uncle Winthrop committed a piece of great extravagance, everybody
said--especially in such times as these, when the British might take and
destroy Boston. This was buying a pianoforte. Madam Royall approved, for
Doris was learning to play very nicely. An old German musician, Gottlieb
Graupner, who was quite a visitor at the Royall house, had imported it
for a friend who had been nearly ruined by war troubles and was
compelled to part with it. Mr. Graupner and a knot of musical friends
used to meet Saturday evenings in old Pond Street, and with a few
instruments made a sort of orchestra. As a very great favor, friends
were occasionally invited in.

There was a new organist at Trinity Church, a Mr. Jackson, who was
trying to bring in the higher class cathedral music. The choir of Park
Street Church, some fifty in number, was considered one of the great
successes of the day, and people