and slender, was perched on the edge of the table,
idly swinging her slippered foot at the cat's head. She smiled
wickedly at Alma before replying.

"I am not going to answer it tonight or any other night," she said,
twisting her full, red lips in a way that Alma had learned to dread.
Mischief was ripening in Anna's brain when that twist was out.

"What do you mean?" asked Alma anxiously.

"Just what I say, dear," responded Anna, with deceptive meekness.
"Poor Gilbert is gone, and I don't intend to bother my head about him
any longer. He was amusing while he lasted, but of what use is a beau
two thousand miles away, Alma?"

Alma was patient--outwardly. It was never of any avail to show
impatience with Anna.

"Anna, you are talking foolishly. Of course you are going to answer
his letter. You are as good as engaged to him. Wasn't that practically
understood when he left?"

"No, no, dear," and Anna shook her sleek black head with the air of
explaining matters to an obtuse child. "_I_ was the only one who
understood. Gil _mis_understood. He thought that I would really wait
for him until he should have made enough money to come home and pay
off the mortgage. I let him think so, because I hated to hurt his
little feelings. But now it's off with the old love and on with a new
one for me."

"Anna, you cannot be in earnest!" exclaimed Alma.

But she was afraid that Anna was in earnest. Anna had a wretched
habit of being in earnest when she said flippant things.

"You don't mean that you are not going to write to Gilbert at
all--after all you promised?"

Anna placed her elbows daintily on the top of the rocking chair,
dropped her pointed chin in her hands, and looked at Alma with black
demure eyes.

"I--do--mean--just--that," she said slowly. "I never mean to marry
Gilbert Murray. This is final, Alma, and you need not scold or coax,
because it would be a waste of breath. Gilbert is safely out of the
way, and now I am going to have a good time with a few other
delightful men creatures in Exeter."

Anna nodded decisively, flashed a smile at Alma, picked up her cat,
and went out. At the door she turned and looked back, with the big
black cat snuggled under her chin.

"If you think Gilbert will feel very badly over his letter not being
answered, you might answer it yourself, Alma," she said teasingly.
"There it is"--she took the letter from the pocket of her ruffled
apron and threw it on a chair. "You may read it i