be such a rest." She rushed excitedly to the door,
and ran, with the air of one who knows delay is fraught with danger,
downstairs to her mother's room.

"Mother"--Mrs. Warren looked up fearfully, as she heard her daughter's
voice--"I have thought it all over."

"Yes?" said Mrs. Warren, weakly. The reaction was almost too much for
her after the half hour of sickening suspense.

"You must see Mr. Thornton when he comes to-night, for I have a
splitting headache and I'm going to bed." Her mother stared at her
blankly. Was this the end of all her hopes? "To-day is Tuesday--tell
him that I will give him my answer Friday night. And, mother"--her
voice dropped in a half-ashamed way--"the answer will be yes."

"My darling child"--Mrs. Warren took her daughter in her arms--"this
is the very proudest and happiest moment of my life."

"Yes, mother, I know," Nancy freed herself from the clinging embrace.
"I'm happy, awfully happy, too"--she said it as one would speak of the
weather or some other deadly commonplace. "I think Mr. Thornton will
make a model husband. And--and it's an end to all our nasty little
economies!"

"Anne, don't be so material," Mrs. Warren interrupted, in a shocked
voice.

"I'm not, mother; only think"--Nancy's eyes glistened--"no more
velveteen masquerading as velvet, no more bargain-counter shoes and
gloves, no more percaline petticoats with silk flounces, no more
_plain_ dresses because shirring and tucking take a few more yards; no
more summers spent in close, cooped-up hall bedrooms in
twelve-dollar-a-week hotels; grape-fruit every morning, and cream
always!" She laughed half hysterically. "And Mr. Thornton is _so_
good! It's wonderful to be so happy, isn't it, Marmee?"

Mrs. Warren looked at her apprehensively for a moment. "You're sure,"
she faltered--"you're sure you're doing it all without a regret
for--for anybody, Nancy?"

Nancy's nails went deep into the palms of her hands. "Without a
regret, Marmee," she smiled, brightly.

"And that you think you will be perfectly happy with James?"

"Perfectly," said Nancy, evenly.

Mrs. Warren, reassured, was radiant. "My darling child," she breathed,
softly, "this means everything to me."

"You'll explain about the headache, won't you, Marmee?" Nancy asked,
moving hurriedly toward the door. She knew that she should scream if
she stayed a moment longer in her mother's presence.

"Yes, indeed, and I'm so sorry about the pain." Her mother follow