' residence, with Nancy's whole world.

The long morning stretched before them like a morning in far Cathay,
and they stepped off down the street toward the Old South Church,
which had been omitted from uncle Ezra's scheme of entertainment by
reason of difficulty in leaving the horse. The discovery that the door
would not be open for nearly another hour only involved a longer walk
among the city streets, and the asking and answering of many questions
about the East Rodney neighbors, and the late autumn hunting and
fishing which, with some land interests of his father's, had first
drawn Tom to that part of the country. He had known enough of the rest
of the world to appreciate the little community of fishermen-farmers,
and while his friend Carew was but a complaining captive with a
sprained ankle, Tom Aldis entered into the spirit of rural life with
great zest; in fact he now remembered some boyish gallantries with a
little uneasiness, and looked to Nancy to befriend him. It was easy
for a man of twenty-two to arrive at an almost brotherly affection for
such a person as Nancy; she was so discreet and so sincerely
affectionate.

Nancy looked up at him once or twice as they walked along, and her
face glowed with happy pride. "I'd just like to have Addie Porter see
me now!" she exclaimed, and gave Tom a straightforward look to which
he promptly responded.

"Why?" he asked.

Nancy drew a long breath of relief, and began to smile.

"Oh, nothing," she answered; "only she kept telling me that you
wouldn't have much of anything to say to me, if I should happen to
meet you anywhere up to Boston. I knew better. I guess you're all
right, aren't you, about that?" She spoke with sudden impulse, but
there was something in her tone that made Tom blush a little.

"Why, yes," he answered. "What do you mean, Nancy?"

"We won't talk about it now while we're full of seeing things, but
I've got something to say by and by," said the girl soberly.

"You're very mysterious," protested Tom, taking the bundle under his
other arm, and piloting her carefully across the street.

Nancy said no more. The town was more interesting now that it seemed
to have waked up, and her eyes were too busy. Everything proved
delightful that day, from the recognition of business signs familiar
to her through newspaper advertisements, to the Great Organ, and the
thrill which her patriotic heart experienced in a second visit to
Faneuil Hall. They found the