But Mabel did not keep them guessing very long, for before the first of the year Ellen received a letter which said: “Rejoice with me! I have found my vocation and its name is David Harland. Are you surprised, dear? I can assure you that I am. How such a wise, steady, unworldly being could be attracted to a girl brought up in such an atmosphere as I have been is a mystery to me. David is professor of botany and is going to South America next year, it being his Sabbatical year. He is some years older than I am, but we are very congenial, and I am as happy as the day is long. We shall be married just before we sail in June. Of course Gran thinks I am a first-class idiot because I did not choose a social star, but she is somewhat compensated by the fact that she will bring out my frivolous little cousin next winter, and will have the joy of directing her costumes and witnessing her conquests. Tell Miss Rindy she is the daughter of a prophet. How could she have foreseen that I was to fly so far away?” Then followed loving messages, and promises to write more fully another time. Ellen folded the letter with a sigh. “Poor Tom,” she said. “Are you sure it is ‘poor Tom’?” asked Miss Rindy. “I surmise so, but one can’t be sure. He certainly was devoted last summer, and I know Mabel liked him.” “But not well enough to marry him. Well, she certainly has given us a big surprise. Has she ever mentioned this man to you?” “Once or twice very casually. I imagine she was quite bowled over early in the game, but was not sure how he felt, and so didn’t want to reveal her interest in him. I’m crazy to see him, aren’t you?” “I’d like to, yes. I hope he is the right man for her.” Ellen sighed again. “This puts an end to all our plans for next summer,” she said. “I warned you, my child, not to count on anything but changes.” But what changes were in store for them no one could foresee, especially Orinda Crump, who prophesied them. Ellen found her one day, just before Christmas, sitting with her hands in her lap, looking aimlessly out of the window. “There wasn’t any mail, Cousin Rindy,” Ellen announced. “I looked in our box on my way home from practising.” “I brought it home,” Miss Rindy told her, “and I wish I had lost it, or that the mail bag had burned up before it reached here or anything that would have spared me from getting that letter.” She pointed tragically to one which she had flung from her. “Is it bad news?” asked Ellen anxiously. “I don’t know whether it is bad or good; some might call it good news, I suppose, but I’m not going; I’m not, so there.” “Going where?” Ellen looked bewildered. “Do tell me what has happened.”