into the
proper relations.

"Haven't I yet proved my right to the title of man in the house?" he
inquired, as he did the trick with the masculine ease which is ever a
source of envy to those whose hands are weaker.

"Indeed you have; but I shall never get over feeling that I have to do
everything for myself."

"It will be some one's privilege to teach you better some time," was his
rejoinder. "Meanwhile, those of us who are near at hand are only too
happy to act as deputies."

Between her "three men," as Jeannette had called them, Georgiana was
allowed to do little for herself at the last. She was to meet her
cousins as the train went through their city, but Stuart had invited
himself to accompany her to that point, thus giving himself a chance, as
he said, to clinch that bargain with Jeannette concerning the promised
letters and post-cards.

Therefore Georgiana's farewells were not to be all said at once, for
which she was thankful. It was quite enough to take leave of Father
Davy, who was looking, it seemed to his daughter's eyes, on that sultry
June morning, a shade paler and weaker than usual.

"It's the sudden summer heat, dear," he said with the brightest of
smiles, as with her arms about him she questioned him; "nothing more.
There, there, my little girl; don't let your fancy get the better of
you. I'm very well indeed, and shall soon be used to the summer weather.
Go--and God be with you, dearest!"

"It doesn't matter about His going with me if He'll only stay with you,"
murmured Georgiana, vainly struggling with herself, that she might take
a bright and tearless farewell of this dear being.

"He will go with you and He will stay with me," said Mr. Warne
cheerfully, "so be at rest. Here--I've written you a steamer letter.
Read it when the good ship sails, and think of me as rejoicing in your
happiness."

It was over at last, and she was off. At the gate she had turned to Mr.
Jefferson, who was carrying her handbag to the village stage, from which
Stuart had leaped to run up to the porch and say a word of cheer to Mr.
Warne, sitting in a big chair.

"I can't tell you what a comfort it is, Mr. Jefferson," she said as she
gave him her hand, "to know that you are here. I haven't worked with you
for six weeks not to understand that it is no mere author of a
scientific treatise who is staying with my father."

"No?" He smiled into her lifted eyes, and his look was that of a friend
whom one may trust. "W