Molly laughed. “That’s the library. Grandpa’s father was an astronomer and started to build an observatory, but died when it was half-way up; so grandpa, who was not an astronomer, finished it as a library. But it makes a beautiful room.” From her grandmother they received a cordial welcome. It was dark when they arrived, and as Mrs. Jouvenal had accepted for them an invitation to a dance that evening at the house of a neighbor, whose daughters were old playmates of Molly’s, there was little time for seeing the house. But Molly did not like to wait and proposed a hasty tour, wishing to show Amos at once the old portraits and furniture and the treasures of family silver. To this her grandmother objected. “Do wait till to-morrow, child. Your Amos can sleep without it, and besides the rooms are not in order yet. Remember I only came back myself this morning, after a two months’ absence.” And so that pleasure was delayed. They arrived early at the ball, and as she joined him at the head of the stairs he glanced at the jewels in her hair and asked, after a moment’s hesitation, if she would do him a little favor. “Of course I will. Only name it, dusky Rajah,” and looking up at him with admiring eyes she smiled as she remembered for the hundredth time how seriously he was annoyed by any compliment upon his appearance. “Are you very much attached to that crescent in your hair?” “If I were it should make no difference. You don’t like it, and that’s enough,” and she raised her hand to remove the ornament. But he interrupted the motion. “Don’t take it off now, for you have nothing to replace it; but that is the smallest part of the request. The real favor is that you shall not ask me why I do it.” “That is asking a good deal, but I consent. And now tell me, how do I look? There is a wretched light in there.” “You look like what you are, the joy of to-day and the rainbow of a happy morrow.” “No, be serious. Is my hair in every direction?” He regarded her gravely and with care. “Your hair is just right, and for general effect you are far and away the prettiest, the daintiest, the most highbred-looking girl within a thousand miles of this or of any other spot; and if we were alone and unobserved, I should gather you in as--” Voices close at hand caused them to turn and descend the stairs with the solemnity of an ancient couple who find dignity a restful substitute for the frivolities of youth. Once in the ball-room, with the wild Hungarian music at their heels, there was little repose for two such dancers. When the first notes of the waltz that Molly loved above all others, came floating through the hall, Amos cut in before a youth who was hastening toward the bride and swung her out across the floor. As they glided away with the music that was stirring in her heart old memories of what seemed a previous existence, she heard at her ear “Do you remember when first we waltzed? How you did snub me! But life began that night.”