d it hard work to keep still.

"You know, dear, that Aunt Frances and father have not seen each other
for years,--not since before you were born,--and of course they have a
great deal to say to each other. There was some trouble--a
misunderstanding--but now it is over--"

"They have found the bridge like Gladys and me," Frances put in.

"Yes; but what I was going to say is this: we mustn't be selfish. We
must let Aunt Frances have father to herself sometimes. Don't you think
so?"

As they sat quietly there in the twilight Mrs. Morrison saw opening
before her a path she would not have chosen. She was a person of simple
tastes and wide sympathies, and the world of wealth and convention to
which her husband would return so naturally had few attractions for her.
She would have need of love and courage, she told herself.

"What do you think, Kate; auntie wants me to take you to New York with
me and leave Frances with her!" said Mr. Morrison, coming in.

"She has never been away from me in her life. What do you say, Wink?"
and her mother lifted the face that rested against her shoulder and
kissed it.

"I don't know; I believe I'd like it, for then I could see the little
girl every day," was the reply.

"I think her great-grandmother has cut out all the rest of her
relations," her father remarked, laughing.

"I don't see how she _could_ be my great-grandmother," Frances said
meditatively.

Mrs. Richards remembered the candlesticks next day, and they gave her an
excuse for an early visit to Mr. Clark. She felt in love and charity
with all men, and, finding the optician at leisure, she entered into
conversation with him in her most gracious manner. His old-fashioned
courtliness pleased her, and she recalled him as one of the proprietors
of the large jewellery store of Mason and Clark, years ago.

Mr. Clark remembered her father, Judge Morrison, and all together she
spent an exceedingly pleasant hour looking over his valuables and
talking of old times. She purchased the candlesticks, and also the two
pieces of Wedgwood which exactly matched some her grandfather had
brought from England.

"You have shown me all you care to sell?" she asked, rising.

"I believe there is nothing else, madam, except the house. I should like
very much to sell it," was Mr. Clark's reply.

When Zenobia ushered her into the sitting room upstairs some minutes
later, Mrs. Richards was struck with its cosey beauty. Truly, there were
ways o