“Yes.” The girl arose and came to where her sister stood. She laid her hands on the shoulders of the other and looked steadfastly into the clear eyes. “I am going with you and John,” she said. “There are just the three of us, and I cannot be separated from you, even though I have this home for always, mine at Aunt Miranda’s death and all its comforts while I live here. I have thought it over. I have thought of the days which will go by all alike; everything just so, all cut and dried; up at such an hour every morning; hot rolls for breakfast on Wednesdays and Saturdays, cold bread on Mondays. Every chair set at exactly such an angle, Aunt Miranda always with her hair parted precisely, Uncle Brown with his whiskers curled in just such a fashion, never a hair out of place; never any excitement; once a month the minister and his wife to dinner; once a year a day in town; twice a year house-cleaning; no adventure, no fun, nothing but dull monotony and commonplace comfort.” “But Aunt Miranda is good and kind in her way, and Uncle Brown is just, if he is particular and a trifle near.” Christine felt it her duty to plead their cause. “Then don’t you want me?” said Alison wistfully. “Want you?” Christine’s arms went around her. “Think how I shall want you when we are away off there amidst strangers; when John must leave me alone in our little cabin and I am homesick and yearning for just one glimpse of my little sister. Think how I shall want you.” “Then there is nothing more to be said.” Alison moved away and began to set the dishes on the table. “Yes, there is. I can’t be selfish about it, and I must show you the advantages offered you here: a comfortable home where the larder never fails, where the flour barrel is never empty; where the potatoes and turnips and apples are plentifully stored away every year; where the hogs are killed in due season and the preserves put up; where all is orderly and exact. Uncle Brown is a good provider if his wife does not have much ready money to spend on fripperies. I may not be able to have more than one frock of blue jeans a year.” “We shall be as well dressed as our neighbors, no doubt,” replied Alison. “And though you may have to help Aunt Miranda as a daughter should, you will have one more year of schooling, and you will have neighbors, young people, who are not such a very great distance away,” Christine continued her argument. “Our settlement may be miles from any other and there may be only married couples there.” “But you will be there, and so will John, and--Fidgetty Lou.” “Why, what do you mean, Alison?” said Christine in surprise. “Fidgetty Lou declares she is going if you do.” “But we can’t take her.” “She says she is going,” repeated Alison. “I think that is a great inducement. No one makes better biscuits and flapjacks. She will be a great addition to our household, I think.” “But if we do not take her how will she ever get there?”