he had brought her from Boston, Kate was not at
all backward in rewarding Sanderson with her graciousness.

"How beautiful they are, Mr. Sanderson; it was so good of you."

"You make me very happy by taking them," he answered with a wealth of
meaning.

Anna, who had gone to the storeroom for some apples, after her
reconciliation with Mrs. Bartlett, returned to find Sanderson talking
earnestly to Kate by the window. Kate held up the roses for Anna to
smell. "Aren't they lovely, Anna? There is nothing like roses for
taking the edge off a snowstorm."

Anna was forced to go through the farce of admiring them, while
Sanderson looked on with nicely concealed amusement.

"Well, what do you think of them, Anna?" said Kate, disappointed that
she made no comment.

"The best thing about roses, speaking generally, Miss Kate, is that
they fade quickly and do not embarrass one by outliving the little
affairs in which they have played a part." She returned Sanderson's
languid glance in a way that made him quail.

"That is quite true," said Kate, being in the humor for a little
cynicism. "What a pity that love letters can't be constructed on the
same principle."

Sanderson did not feel particularly at ease while these two young women
served and returned cynicism; he was accordingly much relieved when
Mrs. Bartlett and Anna both left the room, intent on the solemn
ceremony of opening a new supply of preserved peaches.

"Kate, did you mean what you just said to that girl?" Sanderson asked
when they were alone.

"What did I say? Oh, yes, about the love letters. Well, what
difference does it make whether I meant it or not?"

"It makes all the difference in the world to me, Kate." He read
refusal in the big blue eyes, and he made haste to plead his cause
before she could say anything.

"Don't answer yet, Kate; don't give me my life-sentence," he said
playfully, taking her hand. "Think it over; take as long as you like.
Hope with you is better than certainty with any other woman."

[Illustration: Lillian Gish and Burr McIntosh.]

Professor Sterling, who had been to a neighboring town on business for
the past two or three days, walked into the middle of this little
tableau in time to hear the last sentence. Kate and Sanderson had
failed to hear him, partly because he had neglected to remove his
overshoes, and partly because they were deeply engrossed with each
other.

Though his rival's declaration, which he had