lippers which Anne had fashioned for her with so much care. Her brown
hands lay crossed on her lap, and her small but bold-featured profile
looked more delicate than usual, outlined in relief like a little cameo
against the flame. The visitor's eyes rested upon her for a moment, and
then turned back to Anne. "There is to be a dance to-night down in one
of the old warehouses," he said, "and I want you to go."

"A dance!" cried the boys; "then _we_ are going too. It is Christmas
night, and we know how to dance. See here." And they sprang out into the
centre of the room, and began a figure, not without a certain wild grace
of its own, keeping time to the shrill whistling of Gabriel, who was the
fifer and leader of the band.

Miss Lois put down her knitting, and disapproved, for the old training
was still strong in her; then she remembered that these were things of
the past, shook her head at herself, sighed, and resumed it again.

"Of course you will go," said the visitor.

"I do not know that I _can_ go, Rast," replied Anne, turning toward her
father, as if to see what he thought.

"Yes, go," said Douglas--"go, Annet." He hardly ever used this name,
which the children had given to their elder sister--a name that was not
the French "Annette," but, like the rest of the island _patois_, a
mispronunciation--"An'net," with the accent on the first syllable. "It
is Christmas night," said Douglas, with a faint interest on his faded
face; "I should like it to be a pleasant recollection for you, Annet."

The young girl went to him; he kissed her, and then rose to go to his
study; but Tita's eyes held him, and he paused.

"Will _you_ go, Miss Lois?" said Anne.

"Oh no, child," replied the old maid, primly, adjusting her spectacles.

"But you must go, Miss Lois, and dance with me," said Rast, springing up
and seizing her hands.

"Fie, Erastus! for shame! Let me go," said Miss Lois, as he tried to
draw her to her feet. He still bent over her, but she tapped his cheek
with her knitting-needles, and told him to sit down and behave himself.

"I won't, unless you promise to go with us," he said.

"Why should you not go, Lois?" said Douglas, still standing at the door.
"The boys want to go, and some one must be with them to keep them in
order."

"Why, doctor, imagine me at a dancing party!" said Miss Lois, the
peach-like color rising in her thin cheeks again.

"It is different here, Lois; everybody goes."

"Yes; even old M