sigh of flattering envy. "Oh, you're not going to stop!" she pleaded,
turning from Mrs. Mavering to Molly.

"I think Dan had better do the rheumatic uncle now," said Eunice, from
the piano.

"Oh yes! the rheumatic uncle--do," said Mrs. Pasmer. "We know the
rheumatic uncle," she added, with a glance at Alice. Dan looked at her
too, as if doubtful of her approval; and then he told in character a
Yankee story which he had worked up from the talk of his friend the
foreman. It made them all laugh.

Mrs. Pasmer was the gayest; she let herself go, and throughout the
evening she flattered right and left, and said, in her good-night to
Mrs. Mavering, that she had never imagined so delightful a time. "O
Mrs. Mavering, I don't wonder your children love their home. It's a
revelation."

XXXIV.

"She's a cat, Dan," said his mother quietly, and not without liking,
when he looked in for his goodnight kiss after the rest were gone; "a
perfect tabby. But your Alice is sublime."

"O mother--"

"She's a little too sublime for me. But you're young, and you can stand
it."

Dan laughed with delight. "Yes, I think I can, mother. All I ask is the
chance."

"Oh, you're very much in love, both of you; there's no doubt about
that. What I mean is that she's very high strung, very intense. She has
ideals--any one can see that."

Dan took it all for praise. "Yes," he said eagerly, "that's what I told
you. And that will be the best thing about it for me. I have no ideals."

"Well, you must find out what hers are, and live up to them."

"Oh, there won't be any trouble about that," said Dan buoyantly.

"You must help her to find them out too." He looked puzzled. "You
mustn't expect the child to be too definite at first, nor to be always
right, even when she's full of ideals. You must be very patient with
her, Dan."

"Oh, I will, mother! You know that. How could I ever be impatient with
Alice?"

"Very forbearing, and very kind, and indefatigably forgiving. Ask your
father how to behave."

Dan promised to do so, with a laugh at the joke. It had never occurred
to him that his father was particularly exemplary in these things,
or that his mother idolised him for what seemed to Dan simply a
matter-of-course endurance of her sick whims and freaks and moods. He
broke forth into a vehement protest of his good intentions, to which his
mother did not seem very attentive. After a while she asked--

"Is she always so silent, Dan?"

"