of the exile who had come home to her own.

"Marcella!" said the doctor.

I went out by the dining-room door and shut it behind me, leaving them
alone together.

The wedding is to be next month. Miss Sara is beside herself with
delight. The excitement has been really terrible, and the way people
have talked and wondered and exclaimed has almost worn my patience
clean out. I've snubbed more persons in the last ten days than I ever
did in all my life before.

Nothing of this worries Doctor John or Marcella. They are too happy to
care for gossip or outside curiosity. The Barrys are not coming to the
wedding, I understand. They refuse to forgive Marcella or countenance
her folly, as they call it, in any way. Folly! When I see those two
together and realize what they mean to each other I have some humble,
reverent idea of what true wisdom is.

The End of the Young Family Feud

A week before Christmas, Aunt Jean wrote to Elizabeth, inviting her
and Alberta and me to eat our Christmas dinner at Monkshead. We
accepted with delight. Aunt Jean and Uncle Norman were delightful
people, and we knew we should have a jolly time at their house.
Besides, we wanted to see Monkshead, where Father had lived in his
boyhood, and the old Young homestead where he had been born and
brought up and where Uncle William still lived. Father never said much
about it, but we knew he loved it very dearly, and we had always
greatly desired to get at least a glimpse of what Alberta liked to
call "our ancestral halls."

Since Monkshead was only sixty miles away, and Uncle William lived
there as aforesaid, it may be pertinently asked what there was to
prevent us from visiting it and the homestead as often as we wished.
We answer promptly: the family feud.

Father and Uncle William were on bad terms, or rather on no terms at
all, and had been ever since we could remember. After Grandfather
Young's death there had been a wretched quarrel over the property.
Father always said that he had been as much to blame as Uncle William,
but Great-aunt Emily told us that Uncle William had been by far the
most to blame, and that he had behaved scandalously to Father.
Moreover, she said that Father had gone to him when cooling-down time
came, apologized for what he had said, and asked Uncle William to be
friends again; and that William, simply turned his back on Father and
walked into the house without saying a word, but, as Great-aunt Emily
said, with