"'I've borne the whole thing like an angel, I do believe; particularly since Lord Maxwell came. He hasn't been very interesting, but I was hoping all the time he would be. He still wears red neckties in the morning. He has gone now. He thought some other mud might do more for him than this mud. And I've told mamma that she positively must get along now with her maid and her nurse. And she's a lot better, anyway. And I'm going to start from Antwerp; and I shall alight at Savin Hill about as soon as you get this. And you must receive me with frantic delight. My love to Aunt Letitia, and to Leander, and to Devil; and millions of kisses to your own self. But I'll give them to you. I "don't nohow expect" that Rodney Lawrence is to be in Massachusetts this summer. But if he should be with you, kind remembrances to him. I saw a man a few weeks ago from New York who said that Mr. Lawrence was bound to make his mark. I don't suppose he cares for compliments any more. "'Ever your "'PRUDENCE.'" As Carolyn finished reading the letter she folded it carefully and stood there in silence. Her mother drew a long breath. She contemplatively patted a bow of ribbon on her morning dress. "That's just like Prudence Ffolliott," she said, at last. "What is like her?" "Why, starting off and coming home all in a moment like that." "She has been abroad more than a year." "Has she? Well, I've missed her unaccountably, but I must say I was relieved when she went. And now I shall be glad when she comes." Carolyn turned her head and gazed at her mother for a moment. Then she smiled, slightly, as she said, "One is bound to miss Prue one way or the other." Mrs. Ffolliott continued to smooth the bow of ribbon. "And Rodney coming, too!" she exclaimed. "That will make it interesting to all of us, don't you see?" The girl made this remark a trifle satirically. "And Leander has found the ring she gave him!" The pronouns in this sentence were so indefinite in their reference that Carolyn smiled at them. But she did not take the trouble to reply. She knew her mother's manner of speaking. Mrs. Ffolliott rose from her chair after a moment. She came to her daughter and put her hand on her arm as she asked, impressively: "Can't you telegraph to Rodney not to come?" At this instant something made the girl turn quickly. Her face flushed crimson. She uttered an exclamation, and ran forward to the open door. On the other side of the screen there stood a man. He was tall, he was young, and at just this juncture he was laughing silently. He hastily swung open the wire door and stepped on to the piazza. He put one arm about the elder woman and one about the younger, and kissed first one and then the other. "Aunt Tishy," he said, "I reached that door just in time to hear you ask if I couldn't be telegraphed to not to come. No, I can't be." Mrs. Ffolliott was gazing with delight up at the young man's face. Carolyn stood looking at him demurely.