“I don’t want your eyes to grow dim and your cheeks pale, in that little pent-up room,” said he.  “You know I’ve been there and seen for myself.”

Mary colored, for George’s manner of late had puzzled her, and Jenny had more than once whispered in her ear “I know George loves you, for he looks at you just as William does at me, only a little more so!”

Ida, too, had once mischievously addressed her as “Cousin,” adding that there was no one among her acquaintances whom she would as willingly call by that name.  “When I was a little girl,” said she, “they used to tease me about George, but I’d as soon think of marrying my brother.  You never saw Mr. Elwood, George’s classmate, for he’s in Europe now.  Between you and me, I like him and—­”

A loud call from Aunt Martha prevented Ida from finishing, and the conversation was not again resumed.  The next morning Mary was to leave, and as she stood in the parlor talking with Ida, George came in with a travelling satchel in his hand, and a shawl thrown carelessly over his arm.

“Where are you going?” asked Ida.

“To Springfield.  I have business there,” said George.

“And when will you return?” continued Ida, feeling that it would be doubly lonely at home.

“That depends on circumstances,” said he.  “I shall stop at Chicopee on my way back, provided Mary is willing.”

Mary answered that she was always glad to see her friends, and as the carriage just then drove up, they started together for the depot.  Mary never remembered of having had a more pleasant ride than that from Boston to Chicopee George was a most agreeable companion, and with him at her side she seemed to discover new beauties in every object which they passed, and felt rather sorry when the winding river, and the blue waters of Pordunk Pond warned her that Chicopee Station was near at hand.

“I shall see you next week,” said George, as he handed her from the cars, which the next moment rolled over the long meadow, and disappeared through the deep cut in the sandy hillside.

For a week or more Judith had been at Mrs. Mason’s house, putting things to rights, and when the travellers arrived they found every thing in order.  A cheerful fire was blazing in the little parlor, and before it stood the tea-table nicely arranged, while two beautiful Malta kittens, which during the winter had been Judith’s special care, lay upon the hearth-rug asleep, with their soft velvet paws locked lovingly around each other’s neck.

“Oh, how pleasant to be at home once more, and alone,” said Mrs. Mason, but Mary did not reply.  Her thoughts were elsewhere, and much as she liked being alone, the presence of a certain individual would not probably have marred her happiness to any great extent.  But he was coming soon, and with that in anticipation, she appeared cheerful and gay as usual.