past seven and we want to be there early and get a good seat.
Dr. Hoffman is coming at half-past six."

Father came in. Mrs. Underhill jumped up and brought in the tea. Jim
came whistling down the area steps. They did not need to wait for John
and Benny Frank.

Hanny looked at her sister quite as if she were a new person, with some
solemn distinction. How had she come to love Dr. Hoffman?

She had not settled it when she went to bed alone. There was a dreary
feeling now of years and years without Margaret.

That was Friday, and the following Sunday Dr. Hoffman marched into the
parlor with a vital at-home step. Margaret was up-stairs. Hanny sat in
her little rocker reading her Sunday-school book. He smiled and came
over to her, took away her book, and clasping both hands drew her up,
seated himself, and her on his knee before she could make any
resistance.

"Hanny," he began, "do you know you are going to be my little sister? I
can't remember when I had a _little_ sister, mine always seemed big to
me. And I am very glad to have you. You are such a sweet, dear little
girl. Won't you give me a word of welcome?"

Something in his voice touched her.

"I wasn't glad on Friday," she said slowly. "I don't want Margaret to go
away----"

"Then you will have to take me in here."

"There's Stephen's room," she suggested naively.

"Yes, that would do. But I'm not going to take Margaret away in a long,
long time."

"Oh!" She was greatly relieved.

"But I want you to love me," and he gave her a squeeze, wondering how
she could have kept so deliciously innocent. "Won't you try? You will
make Margaret ever so much happier. We should be sad if you didn't love
us, and now if you love one, you must love the other."

Then Margaret came down, and she said the same thing, so what could
Hanny do but promise. And it seemed not to disturb any one else. When
she spoke of the prospect to her father, he said with a laugh and a hug:
"Well, I have my little girl yet."

Dolly and Stephen took possession of their new abode and had a
"house-warming," a great, big, splendid party almost as grand as the
wedding. And what a beautiful house it was! There was a bathroom and
marble basins, and gas in every room, and pretty light carpets with
flowers and green leaves all over them. There was music and dancing and
a supper, and old Mr. Beekman walked round with her and told her
Katschina wasn't well at all, and he was afraid he should lose her