he wouldn't let me. She shook her head,
and said, "Hush, hush, dear"; and that no good could come of talking
of it, and she wanted me to forget it. She was very sweet and very
gentle, and she smiled; but there were stern corners to her mouth,
even when the smile was there. And I guess she told him what was what.
Anyhow, I know they had quite a talk before she came up to me, for I
was watching at the window for him to go; and when he did go he
looked very red and cross, and he stalked away with a
never-will-I-darken-this-door-again kind of a step, just as far as I
could see him.

I don't know, of course, what will happen next, nor whether he'll ever
come back for Theresa; but I shouldn't think even _she_ would want
him, after this, if she found out.

And now where's _my_ love story coming in, I should like to know?

* * * * *

_Two days after Christmas_.

Another wonderful thing has happened. I've had a letter from
Father--from _Father_--a _letter_--ME!

It came this morning. Mother brought it in to me. She looked queer--a
little. There were two red spots in her cheeks, and her eyes were very
bright.

"I think you have a letter here from--your father," she said, handing
it out.

She hesitated before the "your father" just as she always does. And
'tisn't hardly ever that she mentions his name, anyway. But when she
does, she always stops a funny little minute before it, just as she
did to-day.

And perhaps I'd better say right here, before I forget it, that Mother
has been different, some way, ever since that time when the violinist
proposed. I don't think she _cares_ really--about the violinist, I
mean--but she's just sort of upset over it. I heard her talking to
Aunt Hattie one day about it, and she said:

"To think such a thing could happen--to _me_! And when for a minute I
was really hesitating and thinking that maybe I _would_ take him. Oh,
Hattie!"

And Aunt Hattie put her lips together with her most I-told-you-so air,
and said:

"It was, indeed, a narrow escape, Madge; and it ought to show you the
worth of a real man. There's Mr. Easterbrook, now--"

But Mother wouldn't even listen then. She pooh-poohed and tossed her
head, and said, "Mr. Easterbrook, indeed!" and put her hands to her
ears, laughing, but in earnest just the same, and ran out of the room.

And she doesn't go so much with Mr. Easterbrook as she did. Oh, she
goes with him some, but not enough to make i