of her heart, every drop of her blood belonged to this man at her side, and she would rather die than that doubt should mingle with his love.  She was miserable, miserable; she dared not confide in any one; Patty was too young, for all her womanhood, to understand fully.  Night after night she forced her recollection through the dim past, but she could find nothing but harmless, innocent follies.  Alas, the kaleidoscope of life has so many variant angles that no two eyes see alike.  What to her appeared perfectly innocent might appear evil in the neighbors’ eyes; what to her was sunshine, to another might be shadow.

“Think of it!” said John.  “Patty will be marrying before long.”

Mrs. Bennington looked at Patty and sighed.  To rear up children and to lose them, that was the mother’s lot.  To accept these aches with resignation, to pass the days in reconciling what might be with what shall be, that was the mother’s portion.  Yes, Patty must some day marry.

“When Patty marries, mother,” said John, “you shall come and live with Kate and me.”

“You are moving me around like a piece of useless furniture,” replied Patty, with some resentment.  “I doubt if I shall ever marry.”

“Bosh!” laughed John.  “There’ll come some bold Lochinvar for you, one of these days; and then off you’ll go.  There’s the bell.  That must be Dick.”

Patty and Mrs. Jack crossed glances quickly.  John went to the door himself and brought Warrington back with him.

“Won’t you have a cup of tea, Mr. Warrington?” asked the mother.

“Thank you, I will.”  Warrington stirred the tea, gazing pleasantly from face to face.

The lines in his face seemed deeper than usual; the under lids of the eyes were dark, and the squareness of the jaw was more prominent.  John saw no change, but the three women did.  Warrington looked careworn.

“Well, John, I see that you have done it.”

“Yes.”

“I’m terribly sorry, but you couldn’t back down now and live in town.”

“You see, mother?” John smiled sadly.

“Yes, my son.  You will do what you think best and manliest.”

“How’s the cat?” asked Warrington.

“It still wanders about, inconsolable,” answered Patty.  How careworn he looked!

“Poor beast!  It is lucky to have fallen in such good hands.”

“When you are mayor,” said Patty, “you must give me a permit to rescue stray cats from the pound.”

“I’ll do more than that; I’ll build a house of shelter for them.”

“What time does your speaker begin?” inquired John, lighting a fresh cigar.

“John, you are smoking too much,” remonstrated Mrs. Jack.

“I know it, honey.”

“Rudolph begins at nine; if we go then that will be soon enough.  You’ll be amused.  Have you been riding lately?” Warrington directed this question to Patty.

“Yes, regularly every morning.”  Patty dallied with the crumbs at the side of her plate.