octor. "A feller gets among his
friends for a year or two, and where are ye? Minnie Ferguson's feller
never come back to her and she was a real pretty, good girl, too."

"Oh, I think he'll come back," the girl said softly, as if to herself.

"I only hope, if he don't show up on the minute, you'll marry somebody
else so quick it'll make her head spin!" said the doctor, fervently.
Manzanita laughed out, and the sound of it made Mrs. Phelps wince, and
shut her eyes.

"Maybe I will!" the girl said hardily. "You'll suggest his taking her
home, anyway, won't you, Doc' Jim?" she asked.

"Well, durn it, I'd jest as soon," agreed the doctor. "I don't know as
you're so crazy about him!"

"And you'll stay to dinner?" Manzanita instantly changed the subject.
"There's ducks. Of course the season's over, but a string of them came
up to Jose and Marty, and pushed themselves against their guns--you
know how it is."

"Sure, I'll stay," said the doctor. "Go see if she's awake, Manz'ita,
that's a good girl. If she ain't--I'll walk up to the mine for a spell."

So Manzanita tiptoed to the door of Mrs. Phelps's room and noiselessly
opened it, and smiled when she saw the invalid's open eyes.

"Well, have a nice nap?" she asked, coming to put a daughterly little
hand over the older woman's hand. "Want more light? Your books have
come."

"I'm much better, dear," said Mrs. Phelps. The Boston woman's tone
would always be incisive, her words clear. But she kept Manzanita's
hand. "I think I will get up for dinner. I've been lying here thinking
that I've wasted quite enough time, if we are to have a wedding here
before I go home--"

Manzanita stared at her. Then she knelt down beside the bed and began
to cry.

On a certain Thursday afternoon more than a year later, Mrs. Phelps
happened to be alone in her daughter's Boston home. Cornelia was
attending the regular meeting of a small informal club whose reason for
being was the study of American composers. Mrs. Phelps might have
attended this, too, or she might have gone to several other club
meetings, or she might have been playing cards, or making calls, but
she had been a little bit out of humor with all these things of late,
and hence was alone in the great, silent house. The rain was falling
heavily outside, and in the library there was a great coal fire. Now
and then a noiseless maid came in and replenished it.

Cornelia was always out in the afternoons. She belonged to a great