Had Jamie’s question been put to her two weeks ago, she would have hesitated in her answer, and even now she had not waked to the fact that in all essential points her husband’s wish was the law she could not help obey, but she replied, laughingly:  “Yes, I mind him,” while Jamie continued:  “I love him so much, and he loves us and you.  I heard him tell grandma so, and by his voice I knew he was in earnest.  He never loved any one half so well before, he said, not even—­somebody—­I forget who—­a funny name it was.”

Katy felt almost as if she were doing wrong, but remembering what Juno had said of Sybil Grey, she faintly asked: 

“Was Sybil the name?”

Jamie hardly thought it was.  It seemed more like some town; still, it might have been, he said, and Katy’s heart grew lighter, for Juno’s idle words had troubled her, and Sybil Grey most of all; but if her husband now loved her best, she did not care so much; and when Wilford came for her to join them in the parlor, he found her like herself both in looks and spirits.  Mark Ray had been obliged to decline Mr. Cameron’s invitation to dinner, but he was now in the library, Wilford said, and Katy was glad, for she remembered how he had helped her during that week of gayety in Boston, when society was so new to her.  As he had been then, so he was now, and his friendly, respectful manner put Katy as much at her ease as it was possible for her to be in the presence of Wilford’s mother and sisters, who watched her so narrowly.

“I suppose you have not seen your Sister Helen?  You know I called there, of course?” Mark said to Katy; but before she could reply, a pair of black eyes shot a keen glance at the luckless Mark, and Juno’s sharp voice said, quickly:  “Called on her!  When, pray?  I did not know you had the honor of Miss Lennox’s acquaintance.”

Mark was in a dilemma.  He had kept his call at Silverton to himself, as he did not care to be questioned about Katy’s family; and now, when it accidentally came out, he tried to make some evasive reply, pretending that he had spoken of it, and Juno had forgotten.  But Juno knew better, and from that night dated a strong feeling of dislike, almost hatred, for Helen Lennox, whom she affected to despise, even though she could be jealous of her.  Wisely changing the conversation, Mark asked Katy next to play, and as she seldom refused, she went at once to the piano, astonishing both Mrs. Cameron and her daughters with the brilliancy of her performance.  Even Juno complimented her, saying she must have taken lessons very young.

“When I was ten,” Katy answered.  “Cousin Morris gave me my first exercises himself.  He plays sometimes.”

“Yes, I knew that,” Juno replied.  “Does your sister play as well as you?”

Katy knew that Helen did not, and she answered frankly:  “Morris thinks she does not.  She is not as fond of it as I am.”  Then feeling that she must in some way make amends for Helen, she added:  “But she knows a great deal more than I do about books.  Helen is very smart.”