"And do you mean to say that you have never encouraged him,"

indignantly demanded the irate mother, who with true feminine

inconsistency would not have her boy's affections go begging, even

while she scorned the object of it.

"Encouraged him? I have begged, entreated him to let me alone; I do

not want his love."

An angry sparrow defending her brood could not have been more

indignantly demonstrative than this gentle old lady.

"And isn't he good enough for you, Miss?" she asked in a voice that

shook with wrath.

"Dear Mrs. Bartlett, would you have me take his love and return it?"

"No, no; that would never do!" and the inconsistent old soul rocked

herself to and fro in an agony of despair.

Anna did not resent Mrs. Bartlett's indignation, unjust though it was;

she knew how blind good mothers could be when the happiness of their

children is at stake. She felt only pity for her and remembered only

her kindness. So slipping down on her knees beside the old lady's

chair, she took the toil-worn old hands in her own and said: "Do not think hardly of me, Mrs. Bartlett. You have been so good--and

when I am gone, I want you to think of me with affection. I will go

away, and all this trouble will straighten itself out, and you will

forget that I ever caused you a moment's pain."

Dave came in with the bucket of water that had caused the little squall

and prevented his mother from replying, but the hard lines had relaxed

in the good old face. She was again "mother" whom they all knew and

loved. Sanderson followed close after David; he had just come from

Boston, he said, and inquired for Kate with a simple directness that

left no doubt as to whom he had come to see.

It is an indisputable law of the eternal feminine for all women to

flaunt a conquest in the face of the man who had declined their

affection. Kate was not in love with her cousin David, but she was

devoutly thankful to Providence that there was a Lennox Sanderson to

flaunt before him in the capacity of tame cat, and prove that he "was

not the only man in the world," as she put it to herself.

Therefore when Lennox Sanderson handed her a magnificent bunch of

Jacqueminot roses that he had brought her from Boston, Kate was not at

all backward in rewarding Sanderson with her graciousness.

"How beautiful they are, Mr. Sanderson; it was so good of you."




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