cation likely to make a gentle
creature like Paula happy."

"He is a good fellow," exclaimed Mr. Sylvester under his breath.

"And goodness is the first essential in the character of the man who is
to marry Paula," inexorably observed Miss Belinda. "An open, cheerful
disposition, a clear conscience and a past with no dark pages in its
history, must mark him who is to link unto his fate our pure and
sensitive Paula. Is it not so, Mr. Sylvester?"

The advertisements in that morning's _Tribune_ must have been unusually
interesting, judging from the difficulty which Mr. Sylvester experienced
in withdrawing his eyes from them. "The man whom Paula marries," said he
at last, "can neither be too good, too kind, or too pure. Nor shall any
other than a good, kind, and pure man possess her," he added in a tone
that while low, effectually hushed even the slow-to-be-intimidated Miss
Belinda. In another moment Paula entered.

Oh, the morning freshness of some faces! Like the singing of birds in a
prison, is the sound and sight of a lovely maiden coming into the grim,
gray atmosphere of a winter breakfast room. Paula was exceptionally
gifted with this auroral cheer which starts the day so brightly. At
sight of her face Mr. Sylvester dropped his paper, and even Miss Belinda
straightened herself more energetically. "Merry Christmas," cried her
sweet young voice, and immediately the whole day seemed to grow glad
with promise and gaysome with ringing sleigh-bells. "It's snowing, did
you know it? A world of life is in the air; the flakes dance as they
come down, like dervishes in a frenzy. It was all we lacked to make the
day complete; now we have everything."

"Yes," said Miss Belinda, with a significant glance at the table,
"everything."

Paula followed her glance, saw the silver box with its wealth of
blossoms, and faltered back with a quick look at Mr. Sylvester's grave
and watchful countenance.

"Mr. Ensign seems to be possessed of clairvoyance," observed Miss
Belinda easily. "How he could know that you were to be in town to-day, I
cannot imagine."

"I wrote him in my last letter that in all probability I should spend
the holidays with Mr. Sylvester," explained Paula simply, but with a
slow and deepening flush, that left the roses she contemplated nothing
of which to boast. "I did so, because he proposed to visit Grotewell on
Christmas."

There was a short silence in the room, then Mr. Sylvester rose, and
remarking with po