oachful finger at him warningly.

"I knew it would be just this way," she said. "And you are paler and
more miserable than ever. If you and Dolly would just be more practical
and reason more for each other, instead of falling headlong into
quarrels and making everything up headlong every ten minutes, how much
better it would be for you! If I was not so fond of you both, you would
be the greatest trials I have."

He was so glad to see the thoughtful, womanly little creature, that
he could have caught her up in his arms, gray cloak and all, and have
kissed her only a tithe less impetuously than he would have kissed
Dolly. He was one of the most faithful worshippers at her shrine,
and her pretty wisdom and unselfishness had won her many. He drew the
easiest chair up to the fire for her, and made her sit down and warm
her feet on the fender, while she talked to him, and he listened to her
every word, as he always did.

"I have been to see Dolly," she said, "and I found her crying,--all by
herself and crying." And she paused to note the effect of her words.

His heart gave a great thump. It always did give a hard thump when he
thought of Dolly as she looked when she cried,--a soft, limp little
bundle of pathetic prettiness, covering her dear little face in her
hands, shedding such piteous, impassioned tears, and refusing to be
kissed or comforted. Dolly sobbing on his shoulder was so different from
the coquettish, shrewd, mock-worldly Dolly other people saw.

Aimee put her hand into her dress-pocket under the gray cloak and
produced her letter,--took it out of its envelope, laid it on her knee,
and smoothed out its creases again.

"She was crying over this letter," she proceeded,--"your letter; the one
you wrote to her when I think you cannot have been quite calm enough to
write anything. I think you cannot have read it over before sending it
away. It is always best to read a letter _twice_ before posting it. So
I have brought it to you to read again, and there it is," giving it to
him.

"He burst forth with the story of his wrongs, of course, then. He could
not keep it in any longer. Things had gone wrong with him in every way
before this had happened, he said, and he had longed so for just one
hour in which Dolly could comfort him and try to help him to pluck up
spirits again, and she had written to him a tender little letter, and
promised to give him that hour, and he had been so full of impatience
and love, and h