e, deep color was not one bit deeper and purer than the color of
the eyes above it.

"May I come in to say good-night?" she asked, pausing in the doorway,
for Theodora's face was slightly forbidding.

"Of course." The girl drew forward a low willow chair.

As she passed, Mrs. McAlister laid a caressing hand on the brown hair.

"What a mass of it you have!" she said, seating herself and looking up
at her stepdaughter who stood before her, not knowing how to meet this
unexpected invasion.

The remark seemed to call for no reply, and Theodora took up her brush
again.

"Did you have a pleasant journey?" she asked, after a pause.

"Very; but the home-coming was pleasantest of all. It was very sweet of
you all to be at the door to welcome me."

"That was Hope's doing," Theodora said bluntly. "She told us we ought to
be there when you came."

"It was good, whoever thought of it," Mrs. McAlister answered gently.
"Remember that it is years since I've known what it meant to come home."

Theodora tossed aside her hair and turned to face her.

"How do you mean?" she asked curiously.

"My father and mother died when I was in college," her stepmother
replied. "There were only two of us left, my little brother and I, and
we never had a home, a real one, after that. I taught, and he was sent
away to school."

"Where is he now?"

"In Montana, a civil engineer. I find it hard to realize that my little
brother Archie is twenty-two, and a grown man."

There was another pause. Then Mrs. McAlister suddenly drew a low
footstool to her side.

"Theodora, child," she said; "sit down here and let me talk to you. You
seem so far off, standing there. Remember, I'm a stranger to you all,
and I want somebody to cuddle me a little, this first night."

She had chanced to strike the right chord. Theodora never failed to
respond to an appeal to her sympathy and care. All enveloped in her
loosened hair, she dropped down at her stepmother's side.

"You aren't homesick, I hope."

"No; I couldn't be, with such a welcome home. But papa is down in the
office, and I needed somebody to talk to. I thought you'd understand,
dear. And then there were things I wanted to say to you."

"What?" Theodora asked suspiciously.

Mrs. McAlister rested her hand on the girl's shoulder.

"About the flowers, for one thing. I know so well how you felt,
Theodora, when you put them there."

"What do you mean?" Theodora faced her sharply.

"My own moth