ion seems a little melodramatic
and silly."

"Don't think about it, then. It will work out of itself. Does it not
seem strange when you look back to that evening when we first thought
of the shop, that it has really been tried and proved a success?"

"Indeed, it does. How miserable I was, and determined not to go
abroad, as Dr. Baird wished, but to stay there at home. Then you
declined to stay with me, Norah; and when I was in despair you
proposed the wild scheme of keeping a shop. I was interested at first,
but you don't know how often I would have given up if it had not been
for the fear of losing you. And now, Norah, I wouldn't give a hundred
thousand dollars for the experience."

"That is a good deal of money. I ought to be very triumphant that my
plan worked so well." Norah's tone was sad, however.

After the lamps were lighted Marion became absorbed in the little
book, bending over it with a pretty glow in her face. From the other
side of the table Norah watched her. After a while she rose and took
down the rainbow bag and drew out a card.

"If I make dark my countenance,
I shut my life to happier chance."

She pondered it. "That is true," she told herself, "and there is no
end to the beautiful things that may happen if only one is ready for
them."

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTH

WHAT IT MEANT

Charlotte walked slowly home. She wondered what Miss Marion meant.
"Tell him I know she cares." Charlotte had often noticed that Miss
Carpenter seemed not to be deeply interested in her Philadelphia
cousin, and now suddenly she turned around and was apparently
intimately acquainted with her feelings. It was a puzzle.

She sat down in one of the porch chairs to think it over, making a
pleasant picture in her white dress, with the feathery clematis for a
background, her blue eyes serious and thoughtful, as she rocked softly
back and forth. The old self-assertion which a year ago had shown
itself in attitude and speech had become softened now until it was no
more than a gentle independence.

She had toned down, Cousin Francis told her, with evident approval. In
spite of its tempestuous beginning, the year in the Terrace had in
great measure resulted as her guardian hoped it would.

Aunt Virginia's sweet refinement, Alexina's earnestness, Madelaine's
grace,--all these had had their influence; but most potent had been
her admiration--almost adoration--for Miss Carpenter. Charlotte had
made pleas