She didn’t dislike me, she said, and she was lonesome at times, but she wouldn’t be a laughing-stock for nobody; and she gave me the mitten the third time, and I’ve give it up for good.” Edna tried to console him, and told him her aunt might change her mind yet, but he did not think she would, and said he could stand it if she didn’t; and was the merriest of them all at the dinner, where Maude and Edna appeared in evening dress, looking as young and beautiful as in their girlish days, while Roy and Jack seemed and were perfectly happy and altogether satisfied in the choice they had made. And now, saying good-by to Leighton, we glance for a moment at poor Aunt Jerry, who ate her dinner alone and let one single tear roll down her cheeks as she thought of the party at Leighton, and of herself, so lonely and forlorn. As the night deepened without, and the shadows crept into every corner of the room, she tried, by caressing her tabby-cat, and watching the fire-light flickering on the wall, to get up a little enthusiasm for her surroundings, and believe that she was happy and content. But it would not do; there was a craving in her heart for other companionship than that of cat and cow, and putting the former from her lap she hobbled to the window and looking out into the night, thought of the Gothic cottage, and the man who had offered it to her acceptance, and called her Jerry as he did so. “It might be better than living here alone, and it might be worse,” she soliloquized. “There’s nothing bad about him, and I do believe, that as far as he knows, he is a good churchman now, but he _is_ short, and fat, and stumpy, and if you’d let him, would be silly enough to keep your stomach riled the most of the time. No, Tabby and I’ll try it a spell longer anyway, and then if he is fool enough to ask again, I—don’t—know—; it’s about an even thing;” and the good woman went back to her chair by the fire, and Tabby crept again into her lap, and purred her content with things as they were, and the kettle from which Aunt Jerry was to have a cup of tea when the clock struck eight, sang upon the hearth, and made, with the snapping of the wood, a pleasant, cheery sound which lulled Aunt Jerry to sleep at last, and there we will leave her, not knowing any better than the reader, whether that Gothic cottage at Rocky Point will ever have a mistress or not, though we have a suspicion that it will! THE END. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Illustration: A Catalogue of BOOKS PUBLISHED BY CARLETON & CO., NEW YORK. Madison Square, _corner of_ 5th Avenue and Broadway. 1872.