o doubt he would. He ought to wait till he can have his father and
mother present, however; and besides Grandpa Dinsmore and Grandma Elsie
won't consent to let her marry for at least a year. I shouldn't think she
would feel willing to leave her mother even then; unless as Mamma Vi did,
for such a man as our father."

"But there isn't any other," asserted Grace more positively than she
often spoke. "Papa is just one by himself for lovableness, goodness,
kindness--oh, everything that is admirable!"

"Indeed he is all that!" responded Lucilla heartily. "Oh, I could never
bear to leave him and cannot help wondering at Rosie--how she can think of
leaving her mother! Her father being dead, she wouldn't be leaving him,
but Grandma Elsie is so sweet and lovable. To be sure, just as I said,
Mamma Vi did leave her, but then it seems all right since it was for love
of papa. But what are you looking so searchingly at me for, Gracie?"

"Oh, something that Rosie said last night quite astonished me, and I was
wondering if it were possible she could be right."

"Right about what?"

"Why, that Chester Dinsmore is deeply in love with you, and that you care
something for him too."

"Oh, what nonsense!" exclaimed Lucilla with a half vexed, yet mirthful
look. "I am only half grown up, as papa always says, and really I don't
care a continental for that young man. I like him quite well as a
friend--he has always been very polite and kind to me since that time when
he came so near cutting my fingers off with his skates--but it is absurd
to think he wants to be anything more than a friend; besides papa doesn't
want me to think about beaux for years to come, and I don't want to
either."

"I believe you, Lu," said Grace, "for you are as perfectly truthful a
person as anybody could be. Besides I know I love our father too dearly
ever to want to leave him for the best man that ever lived; there couldn't
be a better one than he is, or one who could have a more unselfish love
for you and me."

"Exactly what I think," returned Lucilla. "But there's the call to
supper."

CHAPTER XXI.

"Annis, dear, my ain love, my bonny lass," Mr. Lilburn said, when at last
he could get a moment's private chat with her, "why condemn me to wait
longer for my sweet young wife? Is it that you fear to trust your
happiness to my keeping?"

"Oh, no, not that," she replied, casting down her eyes, and half turning
away her face to hide the vivid blush tha