wreath, with Nannie for bridesmaid, in a dress the counterpart of her
own, made a blooming and happy bride. After a wedding breakfast at the
Hazeltines' the couple departed, with many good wishes for their
happiness, to have their pictures taken.

Aunt Zelie sat alone in the wide hall that afternoon. The door was
open, and outside the sunshine sifted through the vines as the wind
kept them swinging softly to and fro; it was very still, and the
ticking of the tall clock had a mournful sound.

No doubt it was the reaction after the excitement of the last few
weeks that made her feel so weary and sad. Unhappy thoughts seemed
determined to take possession of her mind--regrets for the past and
fears for the future; she could not throw off the depression.

She thought of Carl's going, and how she would miss him. Would he
become weaned from the old happy home life? Had she done all she might
have done to help him to good, true manhood?

She asked herself these questions sadly; in her present mood it seemed
to her she had failed of what she most wished to accomplish.

These dreary thoughts so engrossed her that Jim's voice, asking, "May
I come in?" caused her to start.

"Certainly," she answered, "I am glad to see you, though I warn you I
am not in a very good humor."

He did not appear alarmed. "I met Carl and he said I'd probably find
you here. I want to tell you something."

"I am ready to listen," she said encouragingly, but Jim seemed to find
it hard to begin, and looked at the floor in a hesitating way quite
unusual.

Aunt Zelie watched him, thinking that something had come into that
handsome young face of late which spoke hopefully for the future.

She was very much surprised at his words.

"Mrs. Howard, I have decided not to go to college." They were resolute
eyes that looked up at her.

"But I thought your uncle wished you to go--that it was all settled.
Are you sure you are doing wisely?"

His face flushed.

"I beg your pardon, dear," she said before he could reply. "I know you
have a good reason. I am surprised, that is all."

"It is on Mother's account, chiefly; she needs me now that Father is
so feeble. Then you know she is used to having things, and though she
thinks she could get along, I should feel mean to have her scrimp and
pinch at home when I am having a good time at college. I went to see
Mr. Barrows to-day, and he thinks he can give me a situation. They say
it is a good place for a fel