e shyly did the proper
thing in the way of congratulations and good wishes.

"It was so sweet of you to do this," said the smiling bride.

"It was lovely to be able to do it for you, dearest," whispered the
Story Girl, "and oh, Miss Reade--Mrs. Dale, I mean--we all hope you'll
be so, so happy for ever."

"I am sure I shall," said Alice Dale, turning to her husband. He looked
down into her eyes--and we were quite forgotten by both of them. We saw
it, and slipped away, while Jasper Dale drew his wife into their home
and shut the world out.

We scampered joyously away through the moonlit dusk. Uncle Blair joined
us at the gate and the Story Girl asked him what he thought of the
bride.

"When she dies white violets will grow out of her dust," he answered.

"Uncle Blair says even queerer things than the Story Girl," Felicity
whispered to me.

And so that beautiful day went away from us, slipping through our
fingers as we tried to hold it. It hooded itself in shadows and fared
forth on the road that is lighted by the white stars of evening. It had
been a gift of Paradise. Its hours had all been fair and beloved. From
dawn flush to fall of night there had been naught to mar it. It took
with it its smiles and laughter. But it left the boon of memory.

CHAPTER XXVII. THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH

"I am going away with father when he goes. He is going to spend the
winter in Paris, and I am to go to school there."

The Story Girl told us this one day in the orchard. There was a little
elation in her tone, but more regret. The news was not a great surprise
to us. We had felt it in the air ever since Uncle Blair's arrival. Aunt
Janet had been very unwilling to let the Story Girl go. But Uncle Blair
was inexorable. It was time, he said, that she should go to a better
school than the little country one in Carlisle; and besides, he did not
want her to grow into womanhood a stranger to him. So it was finally
decided that she was to go.

"Just think, you are going to Europe," said Sara Ray in an awe-struck
tone. "Won't that be splendid!"

"I suppose I'll like it after a while," said the Story Girl slowly,
"but I know I'll be dreadfully homesick at first. Of course, it will be
lovely to be with father, but oh, I'll miss the rest of you so much!"

"Just think how WE'LL miss YOU," sighed Cecily. "It will be so lonesome
here this winter, with you and Peter both gone. Oh, dear, I do wish
things didn't have to change."

Fel