d not been allowed its perfect work on
hers. She looked older now than her years and there were hard lines that
some day would be avarice, uncharity, and other evil traits. Then this
girl was an idle butterfly, frisking from one folly to another in a
wicked and worldly fashion, even despising the plain faith her father
had intended she should follow.

"Oh," exclaimed Aunt Lois, after a blissful communing with her soul in
very thankfulness, "thou puttest new life into me. I can feel it run
through like the breeze in the grass. Sometimes I think with the wise
man that few and evil have been my days, and I would not have them
unduly prolonged, but to see my son again, my dear son!"

The smile was so sweet that Primrose, leaning over, kissed into it and
then both smiled again, while there were tender tears in the eyes of
both.

"And now I must go," Primrose said presently, "but I will try to come
sooner again. It is such fine weather that the orchards are full of
fruit and the wild grapes and the balsams fill the air with fragrance.
Oh, Aunt Lois, God must have made such a beautiful world for us to
enjoy. He cannot mean to have us frown on this, and wait until we get to
heaven, for then the smiles and joy will not come so readily."

"It is flippant for thee to talk of heaven this way. We do not go
dancing into it. We must fashion our lives on more godly things," said
Rachel rebukingly.

Primrose made no reply, but drew on her glove.

"Then I shall not see Faith," she said rather disappointedly as she
rose.

"Where is Faith?" Aunt Lois looked up.

"She idled so much yesterday that she did not finish her stent, and she
has a larger share this afternoon."

Rachel followed the girl out. The horses stood in the shade and Jerry
had been lounging on the grass, but he sprang up and doffed his hat to
his young mistress.

"I have something to say to thee." Rachel took her arm and turned her
away from the house and Jerry as well. "Dost thou truly think Andrew
will return?"

"He will return." There was an exultant ring of hope and youth in the
sweet voice that smote the listener.

"And then," very deliberately, as if her words meant to cut something,
they were so sharp and cold, "then you will marry him."

"Marry him? I?"

There was indignation in every line of the face and Rachel noted it with
secret joy, though her countenance remained unmoved.

"Yes," persistently. "Thou hast always been fondling about him and
k