id Gregory, "but I'm sure
she guessed from the moment she saw me down here. She was much quicker
than you, Karen."

"I've seen a good many young folks in my time," Mrs. Talcott conceded.

Gregory's sense of the deepened significance in all things lent a
special pathos to his conjectures to-day about Mrs. Talcott. He did not
know how far her affection for Karen went and whether it were more than
the mere kindly solicitude of the aged for the young; but the girl's
presence in her life must give at least interest and colour, and after
Mrs. Talcott had spoken her congratulations and declared that she
believed they'd be real happy together, he said, the idea striking him
as an apt one, "And Mrs. Talcott, you must come up and stay with us in
London sometimes, won't you?"

"Oh, Mrs. Talcott--yes, yes;" said Karen, delighted. He had never seen
her kiss Mrs. Talcott, but she now clasped her arm, standing beside her.
Mrs. Talcott did not smile; but, after a moment, the aspect of her face
changed; it always took some moments for Mrs. Talcott's expression to
change. Now it was like seeing the briny old piece of shipwrecked oak
mildly illuminated with sunlight on its lonely beach.

"That's real kind of you; real kind," said Mrs. Talcott reflectively. "I
don't expect I'll get up there. I'm not much of a traveller these days.
But it's real kind of you to have thought of it."

"But it must be," Karen declared. "Only think; I should pour out your
coffee for you in the morning, after all these years when you've poured
out mine; and we would walk in the park--Gregory's flat overlooks the
park you know--and we would drive in hansoms--don't you like
hansoms--and go to the play in the evening. But yes, indeed, you shall
come."

Mrs. Talcott listened to these projects, still with her mild
illumination, remarking when Karen had done, "I guess not, Karen; I
guess I'll stay here. I've been moving round considerable all my life
long and now I expect I'll just stay put. There's no one to look after
things here but me and they'd get pretty muddled if I was away, I
expect. Mitchell isn't a very bright man."

"The real difficulty is," said Karen, holding Mrs. Talcott's arm and
looking at her with affectionate exasperation, "that she doesn't like to
leave Les Solitudes lest she should miss a moment of Tante. Tante
sometimes turns up almost at a moment's notice. We shall have to get
Tante safely away to Russia, or America again, before we can a