ind was unfilmed by dreams. "Whenever you like,
after you come home," said she.

"It can't be too soon for me. I want my wife and I want my home. What
will you do while I am gone, dear?"

Annie laughed. "Oh, I shall do what I have seen other girls do--get
ready to be married."

"That means sewing, lots of hemming and tucking and stitching, doesn't
it?"

"Of course."

"Girls are so funny," said Tom. "Now imagine a man sitting right down
and sewing like mad on his collars and neckties and shirts the minute a
girl said she'd marry him!"

"Girls like it."

"Well, I suppose they do," said Tom, and he looked down at Annie from
a tender height of masculinity, and at the same time seemed to look up
from the valley of one who cannot understand the subtle and poetical
details in a woman's soul.

He did not stay long after that, for it was late. As he passed through
the gate, after a tender farewell, Annie watched him with shining eyes.
She was now to be all alone, but two things she had, her freedom and her
love, and they would suffice.

The next morning Silas Hempstead, urged by his daughters, walked
solemnly over to the next house, but he derived little satisfaction.
Annie did not absolutely refuse to speak. She had begun to realize that
carrying out her resolution to the extreme letter was impossible. But
she said as little as she could.

"I have come over here to live for the present. I am of age, and have a
right to consult my own wishes. My decision is unalterable." Having said
this much, Annie closed her mouth and said no more. Silas argued and
pleaded. Annie sat placidly sewing beside one front window of the sunny
sittingroom. Effie, with a bit of fancy-work, sat at another. Finally
Silas went home defeated, with a last word, half condemnatory, half
placative. Silas was not the sort to stand firm against such feminine
strength as his daughter Annie's. However, he secretly held her dearer
than all his other children.

After her father had gone, Annie sat taking even stitch after even
stitch, but a few tears ran over her cheeks and fell upon the soft mass
of muslin. Effie watched with shrewd, speculative silence, like a pet
cat. Then suddenly she rose and went close to Annie, with her little
arms around her neck, and the poor dumb mouth repeating her little
speeches: "Thank you, I am very well, thank you, I am very well," over
and over.

Annie kissed her fondly, and was aware of a sense of comfort and of lo