s, and flung her gloves aside. "My dear," said Alexandra,
catching up the bunch of violets she held for an ecstatic sniff, and
then dropping it in her lap again, "wait until I tell you--I'm engaged!"

"My darling girl--" Mrs. Salisbury said, rapturously, faintly.

"To Owen, of course," Alexandra rushed on radiantly. "But wait until I
tell you! It's the most awful thing I ever did in my life, in a WAY,"
she interrupted herself to say more soberly. Her voice died away, and
her eyes grew dreamy.

Mrs. Salisbury's heart, rising giddily to heaven on a swift rush of
thanks, felt a cold check.

"How do you mean awful, dear?" she said apprehensively.

"Well, wait, and I'll tell you," Alexandra said, recalled and dimpling
again. "I met Jim Vance and Owen this morning at about twelve, and Jim
simply got red as a beet, and vanished--poor Jim!" The girl paid the
tribute of a little sigh to the discarded suitor. "So then Owen asked
me to lunch with him--right there in the Women's exchange, so it was
quite comme il faut, Mother," she pursued, "and, my dear! he told me,
as calmly as THAT!--that he might go to New York when Jim goes--Jim's
going to visit a lot of Eastern relatives!--so that he, Owen I mean,
could study some Eastern settlement houses and get some ideas--"

"I think the country is going mad on this subject of settlement houses,
and reforms, and hygiene!" Mrs. Salisbury said, with some sharpness.
"However, go on!"

"Well, Owen spoke to me a little about--about Jim's liking me, you
know," Alexandra continued. "You know Owen can get awfully red and
choky over a thing like that," she broke off to say animatedly. "But
to-day he wasn't--he was just brotherly and sweet. And, Mother, he got
so confidential, you know, that I simply PULLED my courage together,
and I determined to talk honestly to him. I clasped my hands--I could
see in one of the mirrors that I looked awfully nice, and that
helped!--I clasped my hands, and I looked right into his eyes, and I
said, quietly, you know, 'Owen,' I said 'I'm going to tell you the
truth. You ask me why I don't care for Jim; this is the reason. I like
you too much to care for any other man that way. I don't want you to
say anything now, Owen,' I said, 'or to think I expect you to tell me
that you have always cared for me. That'd be too FLAT. And I'm not
going to say that I'll never care for anyone else, for I'm only twenty,
and I don't know. But I couldn't see so much of you, Owen,