ela was too much engrossed in her own thoughts to notice.

"It is five years last May," said Pamela. "You and I were tiny things of
ten and eleven years, and Oliver strutted about grand and dignified in a
new coat. The first wedding in our family--I wonder whose be the next?"

"Yours, of course." said Betty quickly. "That is if you and Josiah can
ever make up your minds. I will not be like you, Pamela, trust me, when
my turn comes I'll know full well whether I will or I won't." And Betty
tossed her saucy head with a mischievous laugh as there came a rap on
the front door which caused both girls to start up and fly to the
window.

"Why, 'tis Sally Tracy," cried Betty. "I did not know she had returned
from her visit to Lebanon." And she ran rapidly along the hall, and
opening the door, embraced her friend with all a girl's enthusiasm.

"Welcome, Sally," said Pamela, as the pair came hand in hand towards
her, "Betty has been moping ever since you left, and had a desperate fit
of industry from sheer loneliness. I really believe she has made a
stocking and a half for Moppet--or was it a pair, Betty?"

"The second pair, if you please," retorted Betty, rejoiced to see Pamela
smile, even if at her own expense; "and Miss Bidwell says they are every
bit as fine as yours."

"They may well be that," said Pamela, whose pet detestation was the
manufacture of woolen stockings (then considered one of the component
parts of a girl's education in New England). "But Sally is such a
marvelous knitter that she will no doubt rejoice at your success. Had
you as severe weather in Lebanon as this? I am fearful that we will have
a hard winter, the cold has set in so early."

"They have had one flurry of snow already," Sally answered, "but not so
much wind as we of Litchfield rejoice in. But I had a merry visit and
saw much company. Dolly bemoaned daily that you could not come, Pamela."

"I am to go later, after or about the day set apart for Thanksgiving.
But you and Betty have much to say to each other, and I will not
interrupt you; Miss Bidwell has something for me to do, I'll warrant;
so, farewell for the present, Sally." And Pamela left the room.

"Come, sit beside me on the settle," said Betty, putting Sally in the
warmest seat. "Your fingers are cold, and the room is not yet
sufficiently warm. Well,"--with a significant smile,--"what have you to
tell me?"

"Not what you think," with a smiling nod, "for Francis Plunkett is far
to