various other emotions than those of unselfish desire for
Georgiana's pleasure.

"Of course it's great, and there's no doubt that you must go," he said.
He was sitting upon the rear porch of the manse, looking off toward
Georgiana's garden, on the second evening after her return from the
hurried drive to the Croftons'. "I'll do all I can for your father, of
course. But don't ask me to console the book-writer."

Georgiana laughed merrily. "He'll not need any consolation, Jimps. Nor
you either. Jeannette told me to tell you that she'd write to you once a
fortnight--if you'd answer."

"No! She didn't say that?"

"Yes, she did, and meant it. I'll write, too, of course. You'll be
deluged with letters and picture post-cards. You ought to be satisfied
with so much attention."

"Letters are all right--we won't say anything about the post-cards--and
I hope you'll both keep your promises. But when I think of all these
summer evenings without you----"

He heaved a gusty sigh which Georgiana had no reason to doubt was
genuine. How much heavier would be his spirits, if he were told that
Miles Channing was to be of the party, she had full consciousness. She
was aware of the futility of attempting to keep this unwelcome news from
him longer than the day of her departure, but she had not thus far
ventured to mention it.

"I shall miss these evenings myself," she said soberly. "After all,
Jimps, I expect there'll be nobody gladder to get back home than I. I
shall see this old garden in my dreams." Then quickly, as another
deep-drawn breath warned her that sentimental ground was dangerous, she
cried: "Oh, but, Jimps! I haven't told you of the last and nicest thing
that wonderful girl has done for me. She insisted on my bringing home
the dearest little traveling suit of some kind of lovely summer serge
that doesn't spot and doesn't muss and is altogether adorable. She
insists it's not becoming to her, and it really isn't; but I almost know
she planned not to have it becoming so she could give it away to me. And
a perfect beauty of a little hat--and a big, loose coat, to wear on the
steamer, that looks absolutely new, but she vows it isn't, and that
she's tired of it. Was ever anybody so lucky as I?"

"It certainly does take clothes to stir up a girl," was Stuart's cynical
comment. "Talk of separation and they pretend to be as sad over it as
you are; but let 'em think about the clothes they're going to wear and
their spirits leap