he was silent, considering the matter in its various bearings for a few
moments, and then said: "But what will Aunt Susan think of the change,
and it will be _such_ a change for her; like going into a new world!"

"Well, she will have to get used to it," he answered; "at any rate, it
is not wise for us to go on in this way solely for her comfort."

Then, as Alice began to realize what it meant to bid good-by to the
scenes of her childhood, the old home, the great trees in front, the
broad meadows, the brook that rippled through them, the little church
where every one greeted her with a smile, and the grand old hills that
surrounded Sandgate's peaceful valley, her heart began to sink. Then she
thought of the pleasant woods where she had so often gone nutting in
autumn, the old mill-pond where every summer since babyhood she had
gathered lilies, and even those barefooted school-children of hers,
every one of whom had come to love the pretty teacher, came into her
thoughts. Life in Sandgate did not seem so desolate to her as it had,
and the thought of going away grew less attractive.

"I shall dislike to go, after all," she said at last, "but perhaps it is
best. I shall cry when I leave here, I know, and be very homesick for a
spell, but then I shall have you, and that is a good deal." Then this
mingled clouds and sunshine of a girl deliberately rose, and like a big
baby, crept into her brother's lap, and tucking her sunny head under his
chin, whispered, "Oh, if you were never going to be married, Bertie, I
would leave it all and try to be contented. I could come up here every
summer, and go the rounds, could I not?" Then she added disconsolately,
"But you will get married, and in less than a year, too. I know it. Your
beautiful island girl cannot and will not keep you waiting so long. I
could not if I were she, I know."

Then that big brother, blessed with such an adorable sister, raised her
face so he could look into her blue eyes and said, "No sweetheart and no
wife shall ever lessen my love for you, Alice, who have been my
playmate, my companion, and my confidant all my life. And if you are
likely to be homesick and unhappy in Boston, we will abandon the plan at
once."

"Let me think about it a few weeks first," she replied. "I could not go
away until this term of school is over, and that will not be till
Christmas."

Then after those two good friends had discussed the proposed step in all
its bearings for a half