A few more days went by; and then Mrs. Wishart began to mend; so muchthat she insisted her friends must not shut themselves up with her. "Dogo down-stairs and see the people!" she said; "or take your kind aunt,Lois, and show her the wonders of Appledore. Is all the world gone yet?"

"Nobody's gone," said Mrs. Marx; "except one thick man and one thinone; and neither of 'em counts."

"Are the Caruthers here?"

"Every man of 'em."

"There is only one man of them; unless you count Mr. Lenox."

"I don't count him. I count that fair-haired chap. All the rest of 'emare stay in' for him."

"Staying for him!" repeated Mrs. Wishart.

"That's what they say. They seem to take it sort o' hard, that Tom's sofond of Appledore."

Mrs. Wishart was silent a minute, and then she smiled.

"He spends his time trollin' for blue fish," Mrs. Marx went on.

"Ah, I dare say. Do go down, Mrs. Marx, and take a walk, and see if hehas caught anything."

Lois would not go along; she told her aunt what to look for, and whichway to take, and said she would sit still with Mrs. Wishart and keepher amused.

At the very edge of the narrow valley in which the house stood, Mrs.Marx came face to face with Tom Caruthers. Tom pulled off his hat withgreat civility, and asked if he could do anything for her.

"Well, you can set me straight, I guess," said the lady. "Lois told mewhich way to go, but I don't seem to be any wiser. Where's the old deadvillage? South, she said; but in such a little place south and northseems all alike. I don' know which is south."

"You are not far out of the way," said Tom. "Let me have the pleasureof showing you. Why did you not bring Miss Lothrop out?"

"Best reason in the world; I couldn't. She would stay and see to Mrs.

Wishart."

"That's the sort of nurse I should like to have take care of me," said

Tom, "if ever I was in trouble."

"Ah, wouldn't you!" returned Mrs. Marx. "That's a kind o' nurses thatain't in the market. Look here, young man – where are we going?"

"All right," said Tom. "Just round over these rocks. The village was atthe south end of the island, as Miss Lois said. I believe she hasstudied up Appledore twice as much as any of the rest of us."

It was a fresh, sunny day in September; everything at Appledore was ina kind of glory, difficult to describe in words, and which no painterever yet put on canvas. There was wind enough to toss the waves inlively style; and when the two companions came out upon the scene ofthe one-time settlement of Appledore, all brilliance of light and airand colour seemed to be sparkling together. Under this glory lay theruins and remains of what had been once homes and dwelling-places ofmen. Grass-grown cellar excavations, moss-grown stones and bits ofwalls; little else; but a number of those lying soft and sunny in theSeptember light. Soft, and sunny, and lonely; no trace of humanhabitation any longer, where once human activity had been in full play.Silence, where the babble of voices had been; emptiness, where youngfeet and old feet had gone in and out; barrenness, where the fruits ofhuman industry had been busily gathered and dispensed. Something in thequiet, sunny scene stilled for a moment the not very sensitive spiritsof the two who had come to visit it; while the sea waves rose and brokein their old fashion, as they had done on those same rocks in old time, and would do for generation after generation yet to come. That wasalways the same. It made the contrast greater with what had passed andwas passing away.

"There was a good many of 'em." – Mrs. Marx' voice broke the pause whichhad come upon the talk.

"Quite a village," her companion assented.

"Why ain't they here now?"

"Dead and gone?" suggested Tom, half laughing.

"Of course! I mean, why ain't the village here, and the people? Thepeople are somewhere – the children and grandchildren of those thatlived here; what's become of 'em?"

"That's true," said Tom; "they are somewhere. I believe they are to befound scattered along the coast of the mainland."

"Got tired o' livin' between sea and sky with no ground to speak of.

Well, I should think they would!"

"Miss Lothrop says, on the contrary, that they never get tired of it, the people who live here; and that nothing but necessity forced theformer inhabitants to abandon Appledore."

"What sort of necessity?"

"Too exposed, in the time of the war."

"Ah! likely. Well, we'll go, Mr. Caruthers; this sort o' thing makes memelancholy, and that' against my principles to be." Yet she stoodstill, looking.

"Miss Lothrop likes this place," Tom remarked.

"Then it don't make her melancholy."

"Does anything?"

"I hope so. She's human."

"But she seems to me always to have the sweetest air of happiness abouther, that ever I saw in a human being."

"Have you got where you can see air?" inquired Mrs. Marx sharply. Tomlaughed.

"I mean, that she finds something everywhere to like and to takepleasure in. Now I confess, this bit of ground, full of graves and oldexcavations, has no particular charms for me; and my sister will notstay here a minute."

"And what does Lois find here to delight her?

"Everything!" said Tom with enthusiasm. "I was with her the first timeshe came to this corner of the island, – and it was a lesson, to see herdelight. The old cellars and the old stones, and the graves; and thenthe short green turf that grows among them, and the flowers andweeds – what I call weeds, who know no better – but Miss Lois tried tomake me see the beauty of the sumach and all the rest of it."

"And she couldn't!" said Mrs. Marx. "Well, I can't. The noise of thesea, and the sight of it, eternally breaking there upon the rocks, would drive me out of my mind, I believe, after a while." And yet Mrs.Marx sat down upon a turfy bank and looked contentedly about her.

"Mrs. Marx," said Tom suddenly, "you are a good friend of Miss Lothrop, aren't you?"

"Try to be a friend to everybody. I've counted sixty-six o' these oldcellars!"

"I believe there are more than that. I think Miss Lothrop said seventy."

"She seems to have told you a good deal."

"I was so fortunate as to be here alone with her. Miss Lothrop is oftenvery silent in company."

"So I observe," said Mrs. Marx dryly.

"I wish you'd be my friend too!" said Tom, now taking a seat by herside. "You said you are a friend of everybody."

"That is, of everybody who needs me," said Mrs. Marx, casting a sidelook at Tom's handsome, winning countenance. "I judge, young man, thatain't your case."

"But it is, indeed!"

"Maybe," said Mrs. Marx incredulously. "Go on, and let's hear."

"You will let me speak to you frankly?"

"Don't like any other sort."

"And you will answer me also frankly?"

"I don't know," said the lady, "but one thing I can say, if I've gotthe answer, I'll give it to you."

"I don't know who should," said Tom flatteringly, "if not you. Ithought I could trust you, when I had seen you a few times."

"Maybe you won't think so after to-day. But go on. What's the business?"

"It is very important business," said Tom slowly; "and itconcerns – Miss Lothrop."

"You have got hold of me now," said Lois's aunt. "I'll go into thebusiness, you may depend upon it. What is the business?"

"Mrs. Marx, I have a great admiration for Miss Lothrop."

"I dare say. So have some other folks."

"I have had it for a long while. I came here because I heard she wascoming. I have lost my heart to her, Mrs. Marx."

"Ah! – What are you going to do about it? or what can I do about it?

Lost hearts can't be picked up under every bush."

"I want you to tell me what I shall do."

"What hinders your making up your own mind?"

"It is made up! – long ago."

"Then act upon it. What hinders you? I don't see what I have got to dowith that."

"Mrs. Marx, do you think she would have me if I asked her? As a friend, won't you tell me?"

"I don't see why I should, – if I knew, – which I don't. I don't see howit would be a friend's part. Why should I tell you, supposin' I could?She's the only person that knows anything about it."

Tom pulled his moustache right and left in a worried manner.

"Have you asked her?"

"Haven't had a ghost of a chance, since I have been here!" cried theyoung man; "and she isn't like other girls; she don't give a fellow abit of help."

Mrs. Marx laughed out.

"I mean," said Tom, "she is so quiet and steady, and she don't talk, and she don't let one see what she thinks. I think she must know I likeher – but I have not the least idea whether she likes me."

"The shortest way would be to ask her."

"Yes, but you see I can't get a chance. Miss Lothrop is alwaysup-stairs in that sick-room; and if she comes down, my sister or mymother or somebody is sure to be running after her."

"Besides you," said Mrs. Marx.

"Yes, besides me."

"Perhaps they don't want to let you have her all to yourself."

"That's the disagreeable truth!" said Tom in a burst of vexed candour.

"Perhaps they are afraid you will do something imprudent if they do nottake care."

"That's what they call it, with their ridiculous ways of looking atthings. Mrs. Marx, I wish people had sense."

"Perhaps they are right. Perhaps they have sense, and it would beimprudent."

"Why? Mrs. Marx, I am sure you have sense. I have plenty to liveupon, and live as I like. There is no difficulty in my case about waysand means."

"What is the difficulty, then?"

"You see, I don't want to go against my mother and sister, unless I hadsome encouragement to think that Miss Lothrop would listen to me; and Ithought – I hoped – you would be able to help me."

"How can I help you?"

"Tell me what I shall do."

"Well, when it comes to marryin'," said Mrs. Marx, "I always say tofolks, If you can live and get along without gettin' married – don't!"

"Don't get married?"

"Just so," said Mrs. Marx. "Don't get married; not if you can livewithout."

"You to speak so!" said Tom. "I never should have thought, Mrs. Marx, you were one of that sort."

"What sort?"

"The sort that talk against marriage."

"I don't! – only against marryin' the wrong one; and unless it'ssomebody that you can't live without, you may be sure it ain't theright one."

"How many people in the world do you suppose are married on thatprinciple?"

"Everybody that has any business to be married at all," responded thelady with great decision.

"Well, honestly, I don't feel as if I could live without Miss Lothrop.

I've been thinking about it for months."

"I wouldn't stay much longer in that state," said Mrs. Marx, "if I wasyou. When people don' know whether they're goin' to live or die, theirexistence ain't much good to 'em."

"Then you think I may ask her?"

"Tell me first, what would happen if you did – that is, supposin' shesaid yes to you, about which I don't know anything, no more'n thepeople that lived in these old cellars. What would happen if you did?and if she did?"

"I would make her happy, Mrs. Marx!"

"Yes," said the lady slowly – "I guess you would; for Lois won't say yesto anybody she can live without; and I've a good opinion of yourdisposition; but what would happen to other people?"

"My mother and sister, you mean?"

"Them, or anybody else that's concerned."

"There is nobody else concerned," said Tom, idly defacing the rocks inhis neighbourhood by tearing the lichen from them. And Mrs. Marxwatched him, and patiently waited.

"There is no sense in it!" he broke out at last. "It is all folly. Mrs.

Marx, what is life good for, but to be happy?"

"Just so," assented Mrs. Marx.

"And haven't I a right to be happy in my own way?"

"If you can."

"So I think! I will ask Miss Lothrop if she will have me, this veryday. I'm determined."

"But I said, if you can. Happiness is somethin' besides sugar andwater. What else'll go in?"

"What do you mean?" asked Tom, looking at her.

"Suppose you're satisfied, and suppose she's satisfied. Willeverybody else be?"

Tom went at the rocks again.

"It's my affair – and hers," he said then.

"And what will your mother and sister say?"

"Julia has chosen for herself."

"I should say, she has chosen very well. Does she like your choice."

"Mrs. Marx," said the poor young man, leaving the lichens, "they botherme to death!"

"Ah? How is that?"

"Always watching, and hanging around, and giving a fellow no chance forhis life, and putting in their word. They call themselves very wise, but I think it is the other thing."

"They don't approve, then?"

"I don't want to marry money!" cried Tom; "and I don't care forfashionable girls. I'm tired of 'em. Lois is worth the whole lot. Suchabsurd stuff! And she is handsomer than any girl that was in town lastwinter."

"They want a fashionable girl," said Mrs. Marx calmly.

"Well, you see," said Tom, "they live for that. If an angel was to comedown from heaven, they would say her dress wasn't cut right, and theywouldn't ask her to dinner!"

"I don't suppose they'd know how to talk to her either, if they did,"said Mrs. Marx. "It would be uncomfortable – for them; I don't supposean angel can be uncomfortable. But Lois ain't an angel. I guess you'dbetter give it up, Mr. Caruthers."

Tom turned towards her a dismayed kind of look, but did not speak.

"You see," Mrs. Marx went on, "things haven't gone very far. Lois isall right; and you'll come back to life again. A fish that swims infresh water couldn't go along very well with one that lives in thesalt. That's how I look at it. Lois is one sort, and you're another. Idon't know but both sorts are good; but they are different, and youcan't make 'em alike."

"I would never want her to be different!" burst out Tom.

"Well, you see, she ain't your sort exactly," Mrs. Marx added, but notas if she were depressed by the consideration. "And then, Lois isreligious."

"You don't think that is a difficulty? Mrs. Marx, I am not a religiousman myself; at least I have never made any profession; but I assure youI have a great respect for religion."

"That is what folks say of something a great way off, and that theydon't want to come nearer."

"My mother and sister are members of the church; and I should like mywife to be, too."

"Why?"

"I told you, I have a great respect for religion; and I believe in itespecially for women."

"I don't see why what's good for them shouldn't be good for you."

"That need be no hindrance," Tom urged.

"Well, I don' know. I guess Lois would think it was. And maybe youwould think it was, too, – come to find out. I guess you'd better letthings be, Mr. Caruthers."

Tom looked very gloomy. "You think she would not have me?" he repeated.

"I think you will get over it," said Mrs. Marx, rising. "And I thinkyou had better find somebody that will suit your mother and sister."

And after that time, it may be said, Mrs. Marx was as careful of Loison the one side as Mrs. and Miss Caruthers were of Tom on the other.Two or three more days passed away.

"How is Mrs. Wishart?" Miss Julia asked one afternoon.

"First-rate," answered Mrs. Marx. "She's sittin' up. She'll be off andaway before you know it."

"Will you stay, Mrs. Marx, to help in the care of her, till she is ableto move?"

"Came for nothin' else."

"Then I do not see, mother, what good we can do by remaining longer.

Could we, Mrs. Marx?"

"Nothin', but lose your chance o' somethin' better, I should say."

"Tom, do you want to do any more fishing? Aren't you ready to go?"

"Whenever you like," said Tom gloomily.

CHAPTER XVII
TOM'S DECISION

The Caruthers family took their departure from Appledore.

"Well, we have had to fight for it, but we have saved Tom," Juliaremarked to Mr. Lenox, standing by the guards and looking back at theIslands as the steamer bore them away.

"Saved! – "

"Yes!" she said decidedly, – "we have saved him."

"It's a responsibility," said the gentleman, shrugging his shoulders."I am not clear that you have not 'saved' Tom from a better thing thanhe'll ever find again."

"Perhaps you'd like her!" said Miss Julia sharply. "How ridiculousall you men are about a pretty face!"

The remaining days of her stay in Appledore Lois roved about to herheart's content. And yet I will not say that her enjoyment of rocks andwaves was just what it had been at her first arrival. The island seemedempty, somehow. Appledore is lovely in September and October; and Loissat on the rocks and watched the play of the waves, and delightedherself in the changing colours of sea, and sky, and clouds, andgathered wild-flowers, and picked up shells; but there was somehow verypresent to her the vision of a fair, kindly, handsome face, and eyesthat sought hers eagerly, and hands that were ready gladly with anylittle service that there was room to render. She was no longertroubled by a group of people dogging her footsteps; and she found nowthat there had been, however inopportune, a little excitement in that.It was very well they were gone, she acknowledged; for Mr. Caruthersmight have come to like her too well, and that would have beeninconvenient; and yet it is so pleasant to be liked! Upon the soberhumdrum of Lois's every day home life, Tom Caruthers was like a bit ofbrilliant embroidery; and we know how involuntarily the eyes seek outsuch a spot of colour, and how they return to it. Yes, life at home wasexceedingly pleasant, but it was a picture in grey; this was a dash ofblue and gold. It had better be grey, Lois said to herself; life is notglitter. And yet, a little bit of glitter on the greys and browns is sodelightful. Well, it was gone. There was small hope now that anythingso brilliant would ever illuminate her quiet course again. Lois sat onthe rocks and looked at the sea, and thought about it. If they, Tom andhis friends, had not come to Appledore at all, her visit would havebeen most delightful; nay, it had been most delightful, whether or no; but – this and her New York experience had given Lois a new standard bywhich to measure life and men. From one point of view, it is true, thenew lost in comparison with the old. Tom and his people were not"religious." They knew nothing of what made her own life so sweet; theyhad not her prospects or joys in looking on towards the far future, norher strength and security in view of the trials and vicissitudes ofearth and time. She had the best of it; as she joyfully confessed toherself, seeing the glorious breaking waves and watching the play oflight on them, and recalling Cowper's words —

"My Father made them all!"

But there remained another aspect of the matter which raised otherfeelings in the girl's mind. The difference in education. Those peoplecould speak French, and Mr. Caruthers could speak Spanish, and Mr.Lenox spoke German. Whether well or ill, Lois did not know; but in anycase, how many doors, in literature and in life, stood open to them; which were closed and locked doors to her! And we all know, that eversince Bluebeard's time – I might go back further, and say, ever sinceEve's time – Eve's daughters have been unable to stand before a closeddoor without the wish to open it. The impulse, partly for good, partlyfor evil, is incontestable. Lois fairly longed to know what Tom and hissister knew in the fields of learning. And there were other fields.There was a certain light, graceful, inimitable habit of the world andof society; familiarity with all the pretty and refined ways and usesof the more refined portions of society; knowledge and practice ofproprieties, as the above-mentioned classes of the world recognizethem; which all seemed to Lois greatly desirable and becoming. Nay, thesaid "proprieties" and so forth were not always of the most importantkind; Miss Caruthers could be what Lois considered coolly rude, uponoccasion; and her mother could be carelessly impolite; and Mr. Lenoxcould be wanting in the delicate regard which a gentleman should showto a lady; "I suppose," thought Lois, "he did not think I would knowany better." In these things, these essential things, some of thefarmers of Shampuashuh and their wives were the peers at least, if notthe superiors, of these fine ladies and gentlemen. But in lesserthings! These people knew how to walk gracefully, sit gracefully, eatgracefully. Their manner and address in all the little details of life, had the ease, and polish, and charm which comes of use, and habit, andconfidence. The way Mr. Lenox and Tom would give help to a lady ingetting over the rough rocks of Appledore; the deference with whichthey would attend to her comfort and provide for her pleasure; thegrace of a bow, the good breeding of a smile; the ease of action whichcomes from trained physical and practised mental nature; these and agreat deal more, even the details of dress and equipment which are onlypossible to those who know how, and which are instantly seen to beexcellent and becoming, even by those who do not know how; all this hadappealed mightily to Lois's nature, and raised in her longings andregrets more or less vague, but very real. All that, she would like tohave. She wanted the familiarity with books, and also the familiaritywith the world, which some people had; the secure à plomb and theeasy facility of manner which are so imposing and so attractive to agirl like Lois. She felt that to these people life was richer, larger, wider than to her; its riches more at command; the standpoint higherfrom which to take a view of the world; the facility greater whichcould get from the world what it had to give. And it was a closed doorbefore which Lois stood. Truly on her side of the door there was verymuch that she had and they had not; she knew that, and did not fail torecognize it and appreciate it. What was the Lord's beautiful creationto them? a place to kill time in, and get rid of it as fast aspossible. The ocean, to them, was little but a great bath-tub; or avery inconvenient separating medium, which prevented them from goingconstantly to Paris and Rome. To judge by all that appeared, the skyhad no colours for them, and the wind no voices, and the flowers nospeech. And as for the Bible, and the hopes and joys which take theirsource there, they knew no more of it so than if they had beenMahometans. They took no additional pleasure in the things of thenatural world, because those things were made by a Hand that theyloved. Poor people! and Lois knew they were poor; and yet – she said toherself, and also truly, that the possession of her knowledge would notbe lessened by the possession of theirs. And a little pensivenessmingled for a few days with her enjoyment of Appledore. Meanwhile Mrs.Wishart was getting well.

"So they have all gone!" she said, a day or two after the Caruthersparty had taken themselves away.

"Yes, and Appledore seems, you can't think how lonely," said Lois. Shehad just come in from a ramble.

"You saw a great deal of them, dear?"

"Quite a good deal. Did you ever see such bright pimpernel? Isn't itlovely?"

"I don't understand how Tom could get away."

"I believe he did not want to go."

"Why didn't you keep him?"

"I!" said Lois with an astonished start. "Why should I keep him, Mrs.

Wishart?"

"Because he likes you so much."

"Does he?" said Lois a little bitterly.

"Yes! Don't you like him? How do you like him, Lois?"

"He is nice, Mrs. Wishart. But if you ask me, I do not think he hasenough strength of character."

"If Tom has let them carry him off against his will, he is ratherweak."

Lois made no answer. Had he? and had they done it? A vague notion ofwhat might be the truth of the whole transaction floated in and out ofher mind, and made her indignant. Whatever one's private views of thedanger may be, I think no one likes to be taken care of in thisfashion. Of course Tom Caruthers was and could be nothing to her, Loissaid to herself; and of course she could be nothing to him; but thathis friends should fear the contrary and take measures to prevent it, stirred her most disagreeably. Yes; if things had gone so, then Tomcertainly was weak; and it vexed her that he should be weak. Veryinconsistent, when it would have occasioned her so much trouble if hehad been strong! But when is human nature consistent? Altogether thisvisit to Appledore, the pleasure of which began so spicily, left rathera flat taste upon her tongue; and she was vexed at that.

There was another person who probably thought Tom weak, and who wascurious to know how he had come out of this trial of strength with hisrelations; but Mr. Dillwyn had wandered off to a distance, and it wasnot till a month later that he saw any of the Caruthers. By that timethey were settled in their town quarters for the winter, and there oneevening he called upon them. He found only Julia and her mother.

"By the way," said he, when the talk had rambled on for a while, "howdid you get on at the Isles of Shoals?"

"We had an awful time," said Julia. "You cannot conceive of anything soslow."

"How long did you stay?"

"O, ages! We were there four or five weeks. Imagine, if you can.

Nothing but sea and rocks, and no company!"

"No company! What kept you there?"

"O, Tom!"

"What kept Tom?"

"Mrs. Wishart got sick, you see, and couldn't get away, poor soul! andthat made her stay so long."

"And you had to stay too, to nurse her?"

"No, nothing of that. Miss Lothrop was there, and she did the nursing; and then a ridiculous aunt of hers came to help her."

"You staid for sympathy?"

"Don't be absurd, Philip! You know we were kept by Tom. We could notget him away."

"What made Tom want to stay?"

"O, that girl."

"How did you get him away at last?"

"Just because we stuck to him. No other way. He would undoubtedly havemade a fool of himself with that girl – he was just ready to do it – butwe never left him a chance. George and I, and mother, we surroundedhim," said Julia, laughing; "we kept close by him; we never left themalone. Tom got enough of it at last, and agreed, very melancholy, tocome away. He is dreadfully in the blues yet."

"You have a good deal to answer for, Julia."

"Now, don't, Philip! That's what George says. It is too absurd. Justbecause she has a pretty face. All you men are bewitched by prettyfaces."

"She has a good manner, too."

"Manner? She has no manner at all; and she don't know anything, out ofher garden. We have saved Tom from a great danger. It would be aterrible thing, perfectly terrible, to have him marry a girl who isnot a lady, nor even an educated woman."

"You think you could not have made a lady of her?"

"Mamma, do hear Philip! isn't he too bad? Just because that girl has alittle beauty. I wonder what there is in beauty, it turns all yourheads! Mamma, do you hear Mr. Dillwyn? he wishes we had let Tom havehis head and marry that little gardening girl."

"Indeed I do not," said Philip seriously. "I am very glad you succeededin preventing it But allow me to ask if you are sure you have succeeded? Is it quite certain Tom will not have his head after all? Hemay cheat you yet."

"O no! He's very melancholy, but he has given it up. If he don't, we'lltake him abroad in the spring. I think he has given it up. His beingmelancholy looks like it."

"True. I'll sound him when I get a chance."

The chance offered itself very soon; for Tom came in, and when Dillwynleft the house, Tom went to walk with him. They sauntered along FifthAvenue, which was pretty full of people still, enjoying the mild airand beautiful starlight.

"Tom, what did you do at the Isles of Shoals?" Mr. Dillwyn askedsuddenly.

"Did a lot of fishing. Capital trolling."

"All your fishing done on the high seas, eh?"

"All my successful fishing."

"What was the matter? Not a faint heart?"

"No. It's disgusting, the whole thing!" Tom broke out with heartyemphasis.

"You don't like to talk about it? I'll spare you, if you say so."

"I don't care what you do to me," said Tom; "and I have no objection totalk about it – to you."

Nevertheless he stopped.

"Have you changed your mind?"

"I shouldn't change my mind, if I lived to be as old as Methuselah!"

"That's right. Well, then, – the thing is going on?"

"It isn't going on! and I suppose it never will!"

"Had the lady any objection? I cannot believe that."

"I don't know," said Tom, with a big sigh. "I almost think she hadn't; but I never could find that out."

"What hindered you, old fellow?"

"My blessed relations. Julia and mother made such a row. I wouldn'thave minded the row neither; for a man must marry to please himself andnot his mother; and I believe no man ever yet married to please hissister; but, Philip, they didn't give me a minute. I could never joinher anywhere, but Julia would be round the next corner; or else Georgewould be there before me. George must put his oar in; and between themthey kept it up."

"And you think she liked you?"

Tom was silent a while.

"Well," said he at last, "I won't swear; for you never know where awoman is till you've got her; but if she didn't, all I have to say is, signs aren't good for anything."

It was Philip now who was silent, for several minutes.

"What's going to be the upshot of it?"

"O, I suppose I shall go abroad with Julia and George in the spring, and end by taking an orthodox wife some day; somebody with blue blood, and pretension, and nothing else. My people will be happy, and thefamily name will be safe."

"And what will become of her?"

"O, she's all right. She won't break her heart about me. She isn't thatsort of girl," Tom Caruthers said gloomily. "Do you know, I admire herimmensely, Philip! I believe she's good enough for anything. Maybeshe's too good. That's what her aunt hinted."

"Her aunt! Who's she?"

"She's a sort of a snapping turtle. A good sort of woman, too. I tookcounsel with her, do you know, when I found it was no use for me to tryto see Lois. I asked her if she would stand my friend. She was as sharpas a fish-hook, and about as ugly a customer; and she as good as toldme to go about my business."

"Did she give reasons for such advice?"

"O yes! She saw through Julia and mother as well as I did; and shespoke as any friend of Lois would, who had a little pride about her. Ican't blame her."

Silence fell again, and lasted while the two young men walked thelength of several blocks. Then Mr. Dillwyn began again.

"Tom, there ought to be no more shilly-shallying about this matter."

"No more! Yes, you're right. I ought to have settled it long ago, before Julia and mother got hold of it. That's where I made a mistake."