earn."

"We must not worry for Timotheus," said Helen, "he is as happy as one
could wish; rather we should remember the old adage, 'Where ignorance is
bliss, etc.'" and the little company agreed that perhaps after all,
Timotheus Simpkins should be congratulated rather than commiserated.

When the callers arose to depart, Jotham said,

"Then on two weeks from to-day, Randy, I may call for you, and together we
will travel toward home?"

"Yes, oh yes," Randy answered, an odd little note in her voice, "and how
hard it will be to say good-bye to these two dear friends, how delightful
to know that late in the afternoon I shall greet the dear ones whose faces
I so long to see. How I wish you both were going back with me, then I
should not say good-bye at all."

"And since we cannot accompany you," said Aunt Marcia, laying her hand
gently upon Randy's arm, "we count ourselves fortunate that we are going
to our summer home soon after you leave us. You have been a ray of
sunlight in our home, Randy, and we could not easily or quickly become
used to your absence."

"Oh, is it unkind to be glad that you will miss me?" asked Randy looking
quickly from Aunt Marcia to Helen. "I am puzzled, for I know that I would
do anything to make you happy; then why, when I love you so truly, am I
glad to have you grieved when I go?"

She glanced at Professor Marden who, while apparently answering her
questioning, looked fixedly at Helen Dayton as he said, "That is not an
unkind thought, Miss Randy; if we can be assured that when absent we are
missed, we are then doubly sure that our presence is welcome."

"No one should have so faint a heart as to for a moment doubt that he is
welcome," said Aunt Marcia, receiving in return a grateful smile from
Professor Marden, who bowed low over Miss Dayton's hand, and then with
Jotham walked briskly down the avenue.

"Professor Marden is a most charming young man," said Aunt Marcia, as she
stood at the window watching his receding figure. "He is very like his
father, who was once my most valued friend."

Helen turned quickly to look at her aunt, expecting that she was about to
tell more of the elder Marden, but she had left the window and stood by a
large jar of roses, rearranging the blossoms with infinite care, and when
she again spoke it was not of the Mardens, father or son, but of their
engagements and the weather for the morrow.

CHAPTER XII

HOME

At last the long anticipated hou