om is lighted if ever you
propose!" added Quimby, miserably, to his friend.

"I will remember," said Clem, glancing at Nattie. "There are worse
mistakes made in the dark than on the wire, it seems!"

"Far--far worse!" groaned Quimby, as Nattie hastily turned her head
aside.

"But now, really, Quimby!" urged Cyn, seriously, "do be sensible. Do not
be foolish enough to marry a woman you do not want, because you cannot
have the one you do!"

But Quimby, with the fear of old Fishblate, and a breach of promise
suit, and a dread of explanations in his mind--moreover, having firmly
decided that a little more or less of misery did not matter, could not
be persuaded to take any steps himself, or allow them to be taken, to
free himself from the result of his latest mistake.

Therefore, it came about, to the surprise of those not in the secret,
and the unconcealed exultation of one of the parties immediately
concerned, that the engagement of Quimby and Celeste was announced.

CHAPTER XV.

ONE SUMMER DAY.

The week that decided Quimby's fate so unexpectedly and brought him so
much woe, to Cyn brought good tidings. Her success at the concert had
been so decided that she was the recipient of many offers for the coming
season, and was enabled to accept those that promised most
advantageously. No one was more honestly glad than was Nattie in her
congratulations; Nattie, who had fought and overcome that selfish pain
and bitter wonder of hers, why Cyn should have everything and she
nothing.

Since the approach of summer, a much-talked of project among them had
been a little picnic party in the woods, and as Clem now proposed to get
it up in honor of Cyn's success, the plan was immediately carried out.
Mrs. Simonson, with a feeble protest, because Miss Kling was not
invited, accompanied them. The "them," of course, consisted of Cyn,
Nattie, Clem, Jo, and the newly betrothed ones.

Nature was kind to these seekers of her solitudes, and gave them a
perfect day; one of those that occur in our uncertain climate less often
than might be wished, but that penetrate everywhere with their sunshine,
when they do come, even into hearts where sunshine seldom glances. So,
for the nonce, our friends forgot all their little troubles; even Quimby
brightening up, and ceasing to think of his engagement, as they stood
underneath the green trees, by the banks of a small river; sunshine
everywhere, and the music of birds in the air.