his stir in business came."

"Oh, I don't know what his mother would have done! If Uncle Leverett was
alive----"

"He would have consented in a minute. Someone's sons must go," Cary said
decisively. "No, don't go straight home--come over to the Common. Doris,
you are only a little girl, but I want to talk to you. There is no one
else----"

Doris glanced at him in amazement. He was quite generally grave, though
he sometimes teased her, and occasionally read with her and explained
any difficult point. But she always felt so like a very little girl with
him.

They went on in silence, however, until they crossed Common Street and
passed on under the magnificent elms. Clumps of shrubbery were blooming.
Vines ran riotously over supports, and roses and honeysuckle made the
air sweet.

"Doris,"--his voice had a little huskiness in it,--"you are very fond of
father, and he loves you quite as if you were his own child. Oh, I wish
you were! I wish he had half a dozen sons and daughters. If mother had
lived----"

"Yes," Doris said at length, in the long silence broken only by the song
and whistle of myriad birds.

"I don't know how to tell you. I can't soften things, incidents, or
explanations. I am so apt to go straight to the point, and though it may
be honorable, it is not always wisest or best. But I can't help it now.
I have enlisted in the navy. We start for Annapolis this evening."

"Oh, Cary! And Uncle Win----"

"That is it. That gives me a heartache, I must confess. For, you see, I
can't go and tell him in a manly way, as I would like. We have had some
talks over it. I asked him before I was of age, and he refused in the
most decisive manner to consider it. He said if I went I would have to
choose between the country and him, which meant--a separation for years,
maybe. It is strange, too, for he is noble and just and patriotic on
certain lines. I do think he would spend any money on me, give me
everything I could possibly want, but he feels in some way that I am his
and it is my duty to do with my life what he desires, not what I like. I
am talking over your head, you are such a little girl, and so
simple-hearted. And I have really come to love you a great deal, Doris."

She looked up with a soft smile, but there were tears in her eyes.

"You see, a big boy who has no sisters doesn't get used to little girls.
And when he really begins to admire them they are generally older. Then,
I have always been with boys