advice I can," said the old housekeeper,
drawing the girl down beside her on the sofa, and putting her arm about
her.

"I've just had a--a proposal of--of marriage. There! the whole secret is
out!" cried Dorothy, breathlessly.

But the good old lady did not look a particle amazed, much to Dorothy's
surprise.

"You do not ask me who it is that wants me," cried the girl, in bitter
disappointment.

Mrs. Kemp smiled.

"It was very easy to see that for myself," she responded. "Every one
could tell that Harry Kendal was very fond of you, my dear, and that
sooner or later he would ask you to marry him. But tell me, what answer
did you make him?"

"I--I ran away without making any answer at all," confessed Dorothy,
shamefacedly. "I thought I could write him a note and put my answer in
it--ever so much better than to look up into his face and tell him," she
faltered. "I wonder that girls can ever say 'Yes' right up and down,
then and there; it seems so bold a thing to do. Why, I never felt so
embarrassed in my life. When I tried to say something my tongue cleaved
to the roof of my mouth. I trembled from head to foot, and--oh,
gracious!--he must have heard how my heart thumped. I know I must have
acted like the greatest simpleton the world ever held. Wasn't it
wonderful to think that he wanted to marry me? I can't understand it."

"It is not so very wonderful, but very natural," responded Mrs. Kemp,
warmly. "I do not know whether it is wise to tell you so or not, but you
are really beautiful. Every one thinks so hereabouts. And then you are
not too young to marry--you are seventeen."

"But I'm not a bit wise," persisted Dorothy.

"You are quite wise enough to suit the exacting eyes of love," declared
the housekeeper, reassuringly, "and that is all that is needed. The
greatest of all questions, however, is: Do you think you care for Mr.
Kendal? Let me tell you two things, my dear--never marry a man whom you
do not love; and if the one whom you do love asks you, do not coquet
with him."

"Will you help me to write the note to him?" cried Dorothy, drawing up a
hassock, and slipping down upon it at her companion's feet. "I want to
write it stiff and proud, as though I didn't care much, and I want to
get all the big words in it that I can."

"Of course I will help you," replied Mrs. Kemp. "But it's many a year
since I wrote a love letter, and I'm a little awkward at it now. But as
long as it conveys the idea of 'Yes' to