another woman in the same lamentable condition!

"If it were not," she added, taking Dorothy's hand in hers, "for the
great happiness which has come into my life, do you think that I should
have been able to divine that other great happiness which seems to be
hovering over yours? I am the physician afflicted with the disease which
it becomes his duty to study and to cure. Only, it's not a disease,
Dorothy, but a great, a beautiful revelation. I should have compared
myself, instead, to the prophet who is enabled to interpret the dreams
of others because they are identical with his own. There's my little
speech. And when you are prepared to answer it, you'll find me ready."

As she was speaking the last words, the butler flung back the curtains
at the doorway of the drawing-room.

"Mr. Nisbet," he announced imperturbably.

Dorothy looked at her aunt, and then, with her frank laugh:--

"If there _is_ an answer," she said, "that's it!"

As young Nisbet entered, Mrs. Wynyard was the first to greet him.

"So," she observed, looking him over approvingly, "you've beaten your
swords into walking-sticks, and your spears into top-hats, as my friend
Isaiah so aptly observes! That's very commendable, but I almost think I
like you better in your war-paint. Do you know, a Colonel's orderly is
the spickest-and-spanest object upon which I've ever laid, or hope to
lay, my eyes?"

"He just naturally has to be," said young Nisbet, with a grin. Somehow,
he was always more at his ease with Mrs. Wynyard than with other women.
"You see," he added, "if it wasn't that way, he wouldn't be it."

Which was as near as he had ever come to making an epigram.

"Well, I shall leave you to the tender mercies of Dorothy," said Mrs.
Wynyard. "I've promised to take a walk with your--what is it you call
him--instead of commanding officer, you know?"

"K. O.," said young Nisbet.

"Yes, that's it. How deplorably you militiamen spell! Well, at all
events, I'm going to walk with your K. O., and it's time I was getting
ready. Good-by."

"Good-by, Mrs. Wynyard."

"Day-day!" said Dorothy, from the divan.

"She's a crack-a-jack!" exclaimed young Nisbet, after she had gone.

"Mercy!" said Dorothy. "I never knew you to be so enthusiastic over any
one before. If you have any intention of falling in love with Aunt
Helen, I feel it to be my duty, as a friend and well-wisher, to warn you
in advance that there isn't the most remote show in the world for