"Why, Mr. Morton! do you keep track of all your readers? The circulation of your paper cannot be large." "I looked after Mrs. Vining carefully, but no further." "I shall certainly tell her of your interest," she said, with her old mirthful gleam. "Please do. The people at the office would be agape with wonder if they knew of the influence resulting from Mrs. Vining's name being on the subscription list." "Not a disastrous influence, I trust?" "It has occasioned us some hot work. My chief says that nearly all the dragons in the country are stirred up." "And some of them have been sorely wounded-I've noted that too," said the girl, flushing with pleasure in spite of herself. "Yes, please tell Mrs. Vining that also. Credit should be given where it's due." Her laugh now rang out with its old-time genuineness. "Cousin Adelaide would be more agape than the people of your office. I think the dragons owe their tribulations to your disposition to fight them." "If you could see some words in illuminated text over my desk you would know better." "Mr. Yocomb, don't you think we are going to have an early winter?" she asked abruptly, with a fine color in her face. "I don't think it's going to be cold--not very cold, Emily. There are prospects of a thaw to-day;" and the old gentleman leaned back in his chair and shook with suppressed merriment. "Father, behave thyself. Was there ever such a man!" Mrs. Yocomb exclaimed reproachfully. "I know you think there never was and never will be, Mrs. Yocomb," I cried, controlling myself with difficulty, for the old gentleman's manner was irresistibly droll and instead of the pallor that used to make my heart ache, Miss Warren's face was like a carnation rose. My hope grew apace, for her threatening looks at Mr. Yocomb contained no trace of pain or deep annoyance, while the embarrassment she could not hide so enhanced her loveliness that it was a heavy cross to withhold my eager eyes. Reuben kindly came to our relief, for he said: "I tell thee what it is, mother: I feel as if we ought to have Dapple in here with us." "Emily, wouldn't thee rather have Old Plod?" Mr. Yocomb asked. "No!" she replied brusquely; and this set her kind tormentor off once more. But an earnest look soon came into his face, and he said, with eyes moist with feeling: