"Mr. Lucas wants me, and Flurry. Oh, my darling, forgive me!" as a big tear rolled down his cheek. "I shall always love you, Dot; you will not lose me. Oh, dear! oh dear! what am I to say to him, Allan?" "You will not love me the most any longer, Essie." And as I took him in my arms and kissed him passionately his cheek felt wet against mine. "Oh, Frankie, fie for shame!" interrupted Allan. "You have made Esther cry, and just now, when she was so happy. I did not think you were so selfish." But I would not let him go on. I knew where the pain lay. Dot was jealous for the first time in his life, and for a long time he refused to be comforted. Allan left us together by-and-by, and I took my darling on my lap and listened to his childish exposition of grief and the recital of grievances that were very real to him. How Flurry would always have me, and he (Dot) would be dull and left out in the cold. How Mr. Lucas was a very nice man; but he was so old, and he did not want him for a brother--indeed, he did not want a brother at all. He had Allan and that big, stupid Fred--for Dot, for once in his sweet life, was decidedly cross. And then he confided to me that he loved Carrie very much, but not half so well as he loved me. He wished Mr. Lucas had taken her instead. She was very nice and very pretty, and all that, and why hadn't he? But here I thought it high time to interpose. "But, Dot, I should not have liked that at all. And I am so happy," I whispered. "You love him--that old, old man, Essie!" in unmitigated astonishment. "He is not old at all," I returned, indignantly; for, in spite of his iron-gray hair, Mr. Lucas could hardly be forty, and was still a young-looking man. Dot gave a wicked little smile at that. In his present mood he rather enjoyed vexing me. I got him in a better frame of mind by-and-by. I hardly knew what I said, but I kissed him, and cried and told him how unhappy he made me, and how pleased mother and Carrie and Jack were; and after that he left off saying sharp things, and treated me to a series of penitent hugs, and promised that he would not be cross with "my little girl" Flurry; for after that day he always persisted in calling her "my little girl." Dot had been a little exhausting, so I went down to the bench near the fernery to cool myself and secure a little quiet, and there Ruth found me. I saw her coming over the grass with outstretched hands, and such a smile on her dear face; and though I was so shy that I could scarcely greet her, I could feel by the way she kissed me how glad--how very glad--she was. "Dear Esther! My dear new sister!" she whispered. "Oh, Ruth, is it true?" I returned, blushing. "Last night it seemed real, but this morning I feel half in a dream. It will do me good to know that you are really pleased about this."