rn in.
Aren't you going for the cookies?"

"Yes'm. Going to munch them in bed." And tiptoeing away in the most
orthodox manner Northrup left Aunt Polly alone.

Why was she staying up? She had no clear idea but she was restless,
sleepless, and bed, to her, was no comfort under such conditions.
However, since she had stated that she had something to do, she must
find it. She went to a desk in the farther end of the room, and took
from it her house-keeping book. She would balance that and surprise
Peter! Peter always _was_ so surprised when she did. She bought the
book to her nest on the sofa and set to work.

Debit and credit. Figures, figures, figures. And then, mistily, words
took their places. Names.

Mary-Clare: Larry.

Larry: Northrup.

Mary-Clare! It was funny. The columns danced and giddily wobbled--and
at the foot there was only--Mary-Clare! Mary-Clare was troubling the
dear old soul.

Then, startled by the falling of the book to the floor, Aunt Polly
opened her eyes and gazed into the face of Mary-Clare standing before
her!

The girl had a wind-swept look, physically and spiritually. Her hair
was loose about her face, her eyes like stars, and she was smiling.

"Oh! you dear thing," she whispered, bending to recover the book,
"adding and subtracting when the whole world sleeps. Isn't it a
wonderful feeling to have the night to yourself?"

Mary-Clare crouched down before the red blazing logs; her coat and hat
fell from her and she stretched her hands out to the heat with a
little shiver of luxurious content.

Aunt Polly knew the girl's mood and left her to herself. She had come
to tell something but must tell it in her own way. To question, to
intrude a thought, would only tend to confuse and distract her, so
Polly took up her knitting and nodded cheerfully. She had a feeling
that all along she had been waiting for Mary-Clare.

"I suppose big things like being born and dying are very simple when
they come. It is the mistaking the big and little things that makes us
all so uncertain. Aunt Polly, Larry has left me." The start had been
made!

"Yes; Peneluna told us. He hasn't gone far." Aunt Polly knitted on
while Mary-Clare gave a little laugh.

"Oh! dearie, he was far, far away before he started for the Point.
Land doesn't count--it's more than that, only I did not know. Isn't it
queer, Aunt Polly, now that I understand things, I find that marrying
Larry and having the babies haven't touched me a