this morning."

A cry of joy--almost a cheer--greeted this announcement, and Augustus
went on,--

"My ferns, and my green beetles, and my sea anemones, as Nelly
enumerates them, can all be prosecuted here, and I purpose to remain and
live here."

"And Castello?"

"Jack will go and live at Castello," continued he. "I have interceded
with a lady of my acquaintance"--he did not glance at Julia, but she
blushed as he spoke--"to keep a certain green room, with a little stair
out of it down to the garden, for me when I go there. Beyond that I
reserve nothing."

"We 'll only half value the gift without you, old fellow," said Jack,
as he passed his arm around her, and drew her fondly towards him.

"As one of the uninstructed public," interposed Cutbill, "I desire to
ask, who are meant by 'We'?"

A half insolent toss of the head from Julia, meant specially for the
speaker, was, however, seen by the others, who could not help laughing
at it heartily.

"I think the uninstructed public should have a little deference for
those who know more," broke in Jack, tartly, for he resented hotly
whatever seemed to annoy Julia.

"Tom Cutbill is shunted off the line, I see," said Cutbill, mournfully.

"If he were," cried Augustus, "we should be about the most worthless
set of people living. We owe him much, and like him even more."

"Now, that's what I call handsome," resumed Cutbill, "and if it was
n't a moment when you are all thinking of things a precious sight more
interesting than T. C, I 'd ask permission to return my acknowledgments
in a speech."

"Oh, don't make a speech, Mr. Cutbill," said Julia.

"No, ma'am, I'll reserve myself till I return thanks for the
bridesmaids."

"Will no one suppress him?" said Julia, in a whisper.

"Oh, I am so glad you are to live at Castello, dearest," said Nelly, as
she drew Julia to her, and kissed her. "You are just the chatelaine to
become it."

"There is such a thing as losing one's head, Nelly, out of sheer
delight, and when I think I shall soon be one of you I run this risk;
but tell me, dearest"--and here she whispered her lowest--"why is
not our joy perfect? Why is poor George to be left out of all this
happiness?"

"You must ask _him_ that," muttered she, hiding her head on the other's
shoulder.

"And may I, dearest?" cried Julia, rapturously. "Oh, Nelly, if there
be one joy in the world I would prize above all it would be to know you
were doubly my sister--doubly bound