eer for all of Lone-Rock; and how she and Betty would visit back and
forth, and the family celebrations they'd have on anniversaries and
holidays. All this she could see quite clearly and pleasantly. She could
even see Pink on the other side of a little table spread for two,
praising her muffins, and carefully cutting out the choicest parts of
the tenderloin for her. She was positive he would do both.

That might be very pleasant for a few times, but suppose they should
live to celebrate their silver wedding? Alack for Pink, that a mental
arithmetic problem suddenly popped into her mind!

If there are three meals in one day, and three hundred and sixty-five
days in one year, in twenty-five years through how many meals would they
have to sit opposite each other? She did not try to multiply the
numbers, only whispered in a sort of groan, "there'd be thousands and
thousands! I don't believe I could stand it, for no matter how good and
kind he is, there's no denying it, his visits always begin to bore me
before they're half over!"

[Illustration: "GAZING INTO THE SWEET FACE THAT SEEMED TO SMILE
HELPFULLY BACK AT HER."]

She got up and began to dress presently, stopping twice in the process
to reread the letter, once with her hair hanging, once with her dress
slipped half way on. She wanted to make sure of some sentences which she
could not entirely recall.

"I wonder what mamma would say," she thought, wistfully. She walked over
to the mantel, where a photograph of Mrs. Ware stood in a silver frame.
It was one which Joyce had colored, and was so life-like that Mary's
eyes often sought it questioningly. Now she leaned towards it, gazing
into the sweet face that seemed to smile helpfully back at her until she
found the answer to her own question.

"You always liked him," she whispered. "You always saw the best in him
and made excuses for him. You would have been so happy to have had me
settle in Lone-Rock if you had been there. But I _couldn't_ care for him
as you did for papa, and it wouldn't be right unless I did."

She did not answer the letter then. Just as she was sitting down to
supper a telephone message came from Mrs. Blythe, saying that they would
call for her in a little while to take her out on the river for a
moonlight ride. Mary was glad that the excursion was on one of the big
steamboats instead of a little launch, for in the larger party gathered
on it, no one noticed when she wandered off by herself and