It is rather amusing, in any family circle, to see how some one member, by dint of persistent exactions, comes to receive always, in all the exigencies of life, an amount of attention and devotion which is never rendered back.  Lillie never thought of such a thing as offering any services of any sort to Grace.  Grace might have packed her trunks to go to the moon, or the Pacific Ocean, quite alone for matter of any help Lillie would ever have thought of.  If Grace had headache or tooth-ache or a bad cold, Lillie was always “so sorry;” but it never occurred to her to go and sit with her, to read to her, or offer any of a hundred little sisterly offices.  When she was in similar case, John always summoned Grace to sit with Lillie during the hours that his business necessarily took him from her.  It really seemed to be John’s impression that a tooth-ache or headache of Lillie’s was something entirely different from the same thing with Grace, or any other person in the world; and Lillie fully shared the impression.

Grace found the little empress quite bewildered in her multiplicity of preparations, and neglected details, all of which had been deferred to the last day; and Rosa and Anna and Bridget, in fact the whole staff, were all busy in getting her off.

“So good of you to come, Gracie!” and, “If you would do this;” and, “Won’t you see to that?” and, “If you could just do the other!” and Grace both could and would, and did what no other pair of hands could in the same time.  John apologized for the lack of any dinner.  “The fact is, Gracie, Bridget had to be getting up a lot of her things that were forgotten till the last moment; and I told her not to mind, we could do on a cold lunch.”  Bridget herself had become so wholly accustomed to the ways of her little mistress, that it now seemed the most natural thing in the world that the whole house should be upset for her.

But, at last, every thing was ready and packed; the trunks and boxes shut and locked, and the keys sorted; and John and Lillie were on their way to the station.

“I shall find out Walter in New York, and bring him back with me,” said John, cheerily, as he parted from Grace in the hall.  “I leave you to get things all to rights for us.”

It would not have been a very agreeable or cheerful piece of work to tidy the disordered house and take command of the domestic forces under any other circumstances; but now Grace found it a very nice diversion to prevent her thoughts from running too curiously on this future meeting.  “After all,” she thought to herself, “he is just the same venturesome, imprudent creature that he always was, jumping to conclusions, and insisting on seeing every thing in his own way.  How could he dare write me such a letter without seeing me?  Ten years make great changes.  How could he be sure he would like me?” And she examined herself somewhat critically in the looking-glass.