“That’s right, m’m—­all work and no play don’t agree with nobody.  That’s my maxim.  Well, good night, ladies!” As he shuffled off, accompanied to the door by Fanny, he said in an undertone:  “It’s O.K., Fan—­I put it to her good and hard—­it’s you for mine, all right!”

As they passed along the dark passage he profited by the opportunity to snatch a kiss, and as they bade each other good-bye he said: 

“You’d better get after mother.  She was for handing me a nice, juicy lemon, but I gave her a line of talk that fetched her.  Good night, sweetheart!”

Just as he was going out at the front door, Virginia came up.

“Good evening, Mr. Gillie,” she said politely.

He laughed as he chucked her playfully under the chin.

“Mr. Gillie?” he echoed.  “What’s the matter with James or Jimmie?  Good night, little sis!”

With a boisterous laugh he went out into the street and shut the door.  Virginia, astounded, looked at her sister and laughed.

“What’s the matter with him to-night?” she exclaimed.  “Is he crazy?” Without waiting for an answer, she added quickly:  “How’s mother?”

Fanny averted her face.  She dreaded taking Virginia into her confidence; somehow she could not tell her.  Briefly she said: 

“She’s very tired—­been working until now.  We expected you home earlier.  She wanted to try on the dress.”

Quickly removing her hat and coat which she threw on a convenient chair, Virginia answered: 

“The concert was out later than usual.  Dr. Everett was there.  He brought me to the corner.  How long has Mr. Gillie been here?”

“All evening,” replied Fanny.  Then suddenly the elder sister flung her arms round Virginia’s neck.

“Virgie!” she exclaimed, “what do you think?  Mr. Gillie has asked me to marry him.”

CHAPTER III

Each day brought graduation day nearer, and Mrs. Blaine, becoming more and more nervous as the great event approached, made strenuous efforts to get the dress finished in time.  There were vexatious delays without number.  It was difficult to find the right material or else something went wrong with the measurements and all had to be done over again.  From morning till night, day after day, the old lady sat in doors, at the table piled high with dressmaker’s litter, deeply engrossed in her self-appointed labor of love.

In vain Virginia and Fanny protested.  Their mother refused to listen to them.  This dress, she insisted, was her one joy in life.  It would be cruel to deprive her of anything which afforded her so much pleasure.  They said no more, but they noticed with alarm that each day their mother seemed to age a year.  Her cheeks became more hollow, her face more chalky white.  She complained continually of pains in the region of the heart, and it was plainly discernible that she was rapidly growing more feeble.