re incessantly busy, yet her lips did not move unless to smile; and
her father for a long time would not interrupt her meditations. Good
that she should forget herself, he thought; if she were recalled to the
practical present maybe she would grow nervous. That was the only thing
Mr. Copley was afraid of. However, for him to keep absolute silence
beyond a limited time was out of his nature.

"Are you happy, Dolly?" he asked her.

"Very happy, father! If only mother was with us."

"Ah, yes, it would have been rather pleasanter for you; but you must
not mind that."

"I am afraid I do not mind it enough, I am so amused with everything. I
cannot help it."

"That's right. Now, Dolly"

"Yes, father"

"I should like to know what you have been thinking of all this while. I
have been watching the smiles coming and going."

"I do not know that I was thinking at all--until just now; just before
you spoke."

"And of what then?"

"It came to me, I do not know why, a question. We have passed so many
people who seemed as if they were enjoying themselves,--like me;--and
so many pretty-looking places, where people might live happy, one would
think; and the question somehow came to me, father, what I am going to
do with my own life?"

"Do with it?" said Mr. Copley astonished; "why enjoy it, Dolly. Every
day as much as to-day."

"But perhaps one cannot enjoy life always," said Dolly thoughtfully.

"All you can, then, dear; all you can. There is nothing to prevent
_your_ always enjoying it. You will have money enough; and that is the
main thing. There is nothing to hinder your enjoying yourself."

"But, father, don't you think one ought to do more with one's life than
that?"

"Yes; you'll marry one of these days, and so make somebody else enjoy
himself."

"What would become of you and mother then?" asked Dolly shyly.

"We'd get along," said Mr. Copley. "What we care about, is to see you
enjoy life, Dolly. Are you enjoying it now, puss?"

"Very much, father."

"Then so am I."

The carriage left the high road here, and Dolly's attention was again,
seemingly, all bestowed on what she saw from its windows. Her father
watched her, and could not observe that she was either timid or excited
in the prospect of the new scenes upon which she was about to enter.
Her big brown eyes were wide open, busy and interested, at the same
time wholly self-forgetful. Self-forgetful they remained when arriving
at the house, and when s