st be from
him. Oh, John!"

"From him!"

"Yes. He's--he's staying there. Oh, John! Really I'll never see or
speak to him again. Really I won't. Oh, you can trust me, John. See!
I'll hide nothing. Here's his letter! You see I've sent him away?"

And she took from her pocket Charlie's letter, and in her noble
fidelity (to John--the less we say about poor Charlie the better)
handed it to him.

"What's this?" asked John, in bewilderment. "Who's it from?"

"Charlie Ellerton," she stammered.

"Who's Charlie Ellerton? I never heard--but am I to read it?"

"Yes, please, I--I think you'd better."

John read it; Mary followed his eyes, and the moment they reached the
end, without giving him time to speak, she exclaimed, "There, you see I
spoke the truth. I had sent him away. What does he say to you, John?"

"I never heard of him in my life before."

"John! Then who is your letter from?"

He hesitated. He felt an impulse to imitate her candor, but prudence
suggested that he should be sure of his ground first.

"Tell me all," he said, sitting down. "Who is this man, and what has he
to do with you?"

"Why don't you show me his letter? I don't know what he's said about
me."

"What could he say about you?"

"Well he--he might say that--that I cared for him, John."

"And do you?" demanded John, and his voice was anxious.

Duty demanded a falsehood; Mary did her very best to satisfy its
imperious commands. It was no use.

"Oh, John," she murmured, and then began to cry.

For a moment wounded pride struggled with John's relief; but then a
glorious vision of what this admission of Mary's might mean to him
swept away his pique.

"Read this," he said, giving her Dora Bellairs's letter, "and then
we'll have an explanation."

Half an hour later Miss Bussey was roused from a pleasant snooze. John
and Mary stood beside her, hand in hand. They wore brother and sister
now--that was an integral part of the arrangement--and so they stood
hand in hand. Their faces were radiant.

"We came to tell you, Auntie dear, that we have decided that we're not
suited to one another," began Mary.

"Not at all," said John decisively.

Miss Bussey stared helplessly from one to the other.

"It's all right, Miss Bussey," remarked John cheerfully. "We've had an
explanation; we part by mutual consent."

"John," said Mary, "is to be just my brother and I his sister. Oh, and
Auntie, I want to go with him to Cannes."

This last sugge