"I haven't got at her yet," she said to herself, in her chamber. "But it isn't reasonable I should, so soon. It will take time. It's the discipline. When she went downstairs Ellen had removed all traces of the lemonade, and was in the sitting-room reading Fox's Book of Martyrs. The rest of the day passed uneventfully. That evening when Ellen was going to bed, Miss Munn called her into her chamber. "I want to ask your advice about something," she said with a blush. "I have been thinking about the—the wedding. Would you have gray silk or lavender? Do I do I look too old for lavender?" Ellen studied the face in front of her -the delicate features and the thin cheeks, with the girlish bloom which had come into them of late, and the childlike blue eyes under the wavy gray hair. "No: I think you'd look lovely in lavender!" Miss Munn kissed her. "I am so glad! I want to wear lavender. I shall wear my mother's wedding dress. It was lavender. Does father like that color?" your Ellen hesitated. "I remember his saying he thought there was nothing so suitable for a woman like like you as gray, with white. Father knows a good deal about clothes. Gray silk, he said, with white lace. But I guess he would like lavender. I would wear it as long as I had it." Miss Munn did not speak for a moment. Then she said: "No, I ought not to please myself at such a time; I ought to think of him. I will wear gray and white lace. It is right to do it, and it won't be a sacrifice, when done for him. You'll say nothing to him about it, my dear?" When Ellen was in bed Miss Munn knocked on her door, then opened it a little and spoke through the crack. "Excuse me, my child, but I happened to think I can wear the diamond pin my mother wore when she was married. I shall like that. I will wear the brooch you gave me to fasten the ends of my lace." And Ellen heard her repeat in the hall, "Graysilk, point-lace, and diamonds!" "Bless her old heart," said the girl to herself in the dark. After this the days went by more tranquilly. Master Harry came frequently, and although Miss Munn was on pins and needles while he was in the house, she bore her worry bravely as discipline. The young people saw her perplexity and humored her as well as they knew how, while they made rapid strides in their intimacy in ways which young men and women understand. The morning Ellen went away, Master Harry was beside Miss Munn as the pretty face disappeared. Miss Munn's sigh was to a considerable extent a sigh of relief. "You'll miss her too!" exclaimed Harry, with a grave expression. "Oh, yes! Ellen means well!" Miss Munn went back to her empty house and took refuge in the parlor, with Toby in her lap. "Yes, I shall miss her," she said. It was within three weeks of the wedding. Miss Munn's house had quite a gala air. A number of new ornaments had appeared. There was a pair of bronze vases on the sitting-room mantel, and a new clock between them. On the parlor mantel was a bowl in white and gold, the gift of Master Harry's mother, who had money and taste. There was an illustrated Bible in four volumes, from the minister and his wife. But the present which pleased Miss Munn most, was a large water-color of her own house and garden. This was given by Master Harry, and was the work of a real artist - he had been spending a part of his summer in the town-who had brought out with skill every feature of the place, "even the bricks in the paths," as Miss Munn noted. Miss Munn gazed at it through her tears. "I shall take the old home with me, after all. It won't be so hard to go now. The sacrificing is made up for somehow!" She was to be married in a week. She got up one morning with a very happy feeling in her heart, and went out into the garden, where she wandered up and down the prim little paths, bending over her favorite flowers, and touching them caressingly with her slim fingers. She picked a spray of mignonette and buttoned it in her dress as she had seen Ellen do. Then she strolled down to the gate to meet the man who brought the mail. He gave her the Religious Weekly, which was all he had for her that morning, and then leaned on the gate, trying to make a little conversation. "Well," he said, "I hope you'll be happy. You deserve it." He fumbled about his pockets and brought out a crumpled parcel, which he held out to her "I wanted to give you a little suthin' to take with you. Mother, she laughed; but I wanted to do it." Miss Munn did not look at her gift until she was in the sitting-room. It was a tidy, bought at the village store. Pink roses and white daisies, embroidered in wool on a peacock-blue background! Miss Munn stroked it with her hand, and wheeled a big chair beside the fireplace and pinned the tidy to its back. "Poor fellow!" murmured she, shall stay here as long as I do.” The clock ticked solemnly for some minutes, the only sound in the room. Then with a little sigh Miss Munn lifted her head. She glanced about her in wonder. Her eyes fell upon the paper, which Tobias had pushed into her lap, and with a shudder she got upon her feet and tottered from the room. "I will go to bed!" she muttered in a strange voice; "I will go to bed?" She locked herself into her chamber, lay down upon the bed, and hid her face. She did not get up again that day; and "It in answer to the terrified Jane, who came to her door, she said she had a headache and would sleep it off. All the night through she lay awake, dressed, on her bed, her thoughts wandering in helpless confusion. When it was dawn, she crept down into the parlor. Over the piano At dinner time she was still looking at it with an absent look in her face. She had not read the Religious Weekly, so she took it to dinner with her, and ate and read together. Tobias was lapping milk out of a saucer hung Master Harry's picture. at her feet. Miss Munn read a paper systematically. She began at the beginning and went to the end. She made no difference that she knew the second page was usually more interesting than the first; she read the first, and then the second. The sun streamed in through the bay window. It lay about her and touched up the pretty old silver and glass. She unrolled the paper and propped it conveniently against the sugar bowl. There was nothing worthy of note on the first page, nor on the second. But suddenly her knife and fork dropped upon her plate with a clatter, and her head fell against the tall chair back. Tobias aroused at the sound and looked up at her. The sun just touched her forehead. The thin face in the light was like a withered white rose on its wilted stem. Tobias gave a faint mew and leaped to her knee. He gazed inquisitively into the lifeless face, and after a lap on the "I suppose it's for discipline, but it seems as if I was getting too old for this kind. I haven't appreciated what I've had and it's been taken away." She fell before her mother's chair, and buried her head in the cushion. The light in the room was faint, and everything was gray. Outside, an orange tint announced the rising sun. "I haven't appreciated, that's it; I haven't appreciated. Age hasn't much to do with it. You're disciplined-just the same. That's the way-the-right way. I suppose I mistook my duty. I was too sure I was right, perhaps, about Ellen." The sun looked in at the windows. Squares of gold lay on the dark, shining floor. The clock on the stairway struck the hour. Miss Munn gathered herself together and went to the kitchen. "Jane," she said, "you may have a holiday to-day. Very likely you'll need it ; you'll have a good deal to do in a day or two. You may go after breakfast and stay til bedtime. I hope you'll enjoy yourself." Miss Munn watched her departure with relief. Then she locked all the doors and pulled down all the curtains. "They'll think I've gone away," was the explanation. She walked about the sitting-room, and looked at her wedding gifts. "Those vases look pretty on the mantel-piece. The clock keeps perfect time," she commented, dreamily. "I didn't realize how handsome that table cover was, that Mrs. Hayden made! It must have taken a sight of time. She's so kind-hearted! And that new bible! They dress up the room more than I'd any idea of. And they must all go back! I can't keep them now! Oh, I don't want them! They must all go! Then the thought of packing them up came. Perhaps the thought of any work was a relief. Trembling with excitement she went to the parlor, climbed upon a chair, and took down the beautiful watercolor in its white frame. It was heavy, but she got it down safely, and pulled from the shed the box it had come in. She wrapped it in the papers tenderly, but no tears fell upon it. With her thin, weak hands she nailed the cover on the box. So one thing after another she wrapped and tied up. When all was done, she piled the gifts together in the front entry. Then she sat down at her old secretary and wrote a note of explanation to go with each package. The handwriting was fine and delicate, and it would have taken a close observer to tell that the lines were shaky. She used what was left of her wedding-invitation paper. Then she went upstairs. There was one thing more to do. The garments and ornaments of her simple "trousseau lay about her room. On the bedspread, ready to put on, was the wedding-gown itself. It was gray silk, with ruffles at the neck and wrists of point lace. Beside it was the black Henrietta "for travelling." These, with a wrapper, and the exquisite underclothing, comprised the whole outfit. The trunk stood waiting by the bureau. She could not eat at dinner time; but she drank two glasses of milk. "I must keep up," she said. Tobias came purring about her. "Why, pussy!" she exclaimed. "I forgot all about you." Then with a start she thought: "Maybe he'll be taken now." She filled the tumbler from which she had herself been drinking, and set it before him. He was not used to drinking from a tumbler, but when he had lapped up what he could reach he tipped it over and finished it from the floor. At dusk Miss Munn stole into the garden to watch for the postman. The air was full of the perfume of the mignonette and spice-pinks. A robin swinging on a rose branch was singing his evening hymn. Miss Munn paid no heed; but after that night she never smelled the odor of mignonette and spice Miss Munn folded each garment care- pinks without feeling faint. The man had two letters for Miss Munn. She crushed them into her pocket and asked him to come in; and he followed her to the dimly lighted sitting-room. "Why, Miss Munn ! You ain't sick, are ye?" he cried, catching sight of her face. "No, I'm not sick! But I've got something to do which I want to get off my mind." She twisted her fingers nervously. "Warren," she continued, "I'm not going to be married. I've changed my mind. My presents are all going back, I can't keep them now, you know." Warren was quite pale from sympathy. "Oh, don't send 'em all back!" he pleaded, pointing at the tidy which still hung from the big chair. "All right, Warren, I'll keep that. But the rest - they must all go! They're ready, Warren, and I want you to take them. You'll have to get a team, and now, while it's do it now, Warren, dark!" Ellen's letter in her hand. For a week she flitted about the house like á ghost. The faint color which had come to her cheek with her engagement passed away. No one would have called her anything but an old woman; and she was not a child-like old woman any longer. The few who ventured to come to see her were turned away with the message, that Miss Munn was resting. But by and by one day there came a vigorous rap at the door. "It's Master Harry!" thought Miss Munn. "I can't see him." Jane was in the shed and did not hear the knock, and Miss Munn would not answer it. But apparently the knocker did not intend to be disappointed, for after knocking in vain, she opened the door herself and came into the house. "You may bring the trunks right in," said a clear voice. It was Ellen. She flew to Miss Munn, standing there like a statue at the head of the stairs, and bursting into a torrent of tears hugged and kissed the startled woman, she "All right, ma'am. I can get Wig- and sobbed out a tumultuous explanation. gin's express cart." When he had gone, Miss Munn took her two letters from her pocket. They were both post-marked Dayton, and the first one was from Rev. Henry King. It was full of religious phrases. There was a great deal of "Divine guidance,” “allwise Providence," "filial love," and " religious duty" in it. Miss Munn could not understand it all; but then she was in an upset condition. "He thinks he's done right," she concluded after the second reading. "He meant to do right, perhaps. Oh, but it doesn't seem so ! It doesn't seem so!" The second letter was a blotted, tearstained sheet from Ellen. Miss Munn could not make much of that letter. It was a stormy, confused, wretched letter. But it brought tears to Miss Munn's eyes, for, spite of the incoherence, she caught the love and sympathy which were in it. There was a rattle of wheels, a clang of the gate, and Warren entered. He would not allow her to touch a parcel. He packed them all into the wagon himself, and drove away on his lugubrious errand. Miss Munn cried herself to sleep, with "I will never go back, never, never! He had no business to do so. She's a coarse, vulgar woman, and I will never live with her- never! She shall not be a mother to me." "My dear child," cried Miss Munn, "What have you done?" "I've come to you! I'm going to live with you. You ought to be my mother, and you shall be! I will never leave you. I told him I was coming to you, and he said you were welcome to me if you could live with me. She couldn't. I told her about you - and she laughed!" "Ellen! Ellen! My dear child! You must not !" Miss Munn with a new life springing up within her, drew the excited girl to a sofa, and took off her hat. She noticed, even then, that the curls had been fastened in a knot at the back of Ellen's head. Ellen observed her glance. "I did it to-day to please you," she said. Miss Munn kissed her. Early the next morning, Master Harry, who in some mysterious way had heard of the arrival, turned up, his handsome face handsomer than usual. The two pairs of eyes were more than usually eloquent; and once during the call, Ellen so far forgot herself as to say "Harry" in the most open fashion. If Miss Munn were shocked at that little slip, what were her feelings on the next afternoon! She was coming down the stairs when a sound caught her ear from the garden. And there, in broad daylight, stood Harry, with both arms around Ellen, and kissing her! Actually kissing her as if he would never leave off, and Ellen seemed to be encouraging him! Miss Munn was so overcome, that she sank upon the landing and clung to the balusters. "Let me go, Harry! There is little mother. She is perfectly appalled. Do you come and explain, before she dies of shame." Harry conducted Ellen up the stairs and deposited her on the landing beside the pale little woman. "Miss Munn," he said, "you've got to take me in, too. Ellen has promised never to leave you, and I am never going to leave Ellen." Miss Munn wiped her eyes with one hand and held out the other to the happy creatures beside her. appreciate your joy enough," she said. Then she disappeared into her own room, leaving them together. That evening, Miss Munn went to call on Harry's mother, leaving Harry and Ellen still together behind her. Her stay was a long one; and when she came back the house was in a blaze of light. "It is fire!" was her first thought; "more discipline!" But it was not fire. The sitting-room was full of people, with Ellen standing by Harry in the midst. Ellen drew her gently into the room. "These kind friends have come to welcome me home,” she said. But there was another reason why they had come. The vases again stood on the mantel, with the clock between. The Bible was on the table. Every gift was in its place. Miss Munn turned her weeping face away, and went into the parlor. The beautiful bowl stood where she had set it. The picture hung over the piano. When the guests were leaving at the end of the happy evening, for it was a happy evening, Miss Munn stood between her two children, a hand in the hand of each; and all felt, as they went home, as if they had been to a prayer "Oh, my dear children, be sure you meeting. |