"No matter," she said, sweetly. "At the East, as in the West, the cold is followed by thaws and spring." He looked up quickly and gratefully, but only remarked, "It's a change we all welcome." "Not I, for one," said Mr. Harcourt. "Give me a clear, steady cold. Thaws and spring are synonymous with the sloppy season or sentimental stage." "I, too, think steady cold is better in the season of it," remarked Mr. Dimmerly, sententiously. "But how about it out of season, uncle?" asked Lottie. "Your hint, perhaps, is seasonable, Lottie," quietly remarked her aunt, though with somewhat heightened color. "I trust we shall keep the steady cold out of doors, and that ALL our guests will find only summer warmth within." "Really, auntie, you put me in quite a melting mood." "No need of that, Lottie, for you are the month of June all the year round," said her aunt. "The month of April, rather," suggested Bel. "I should say July or August," added Mr. Dimmerly, laughing. "Would you not say November?" asked Lottie of Mr. Hemstead. "Yes, I think so," he replied, with a blush, "for Thanksgiving comes in that month." There was a general laugh, and Mr. Dimmerly chuckled, "Very good, you are getting even, Frank." "I hardly understand your compliment, if it is one," said Lottie, demurely. "Is it because you are so fond of sermons or dinners that Thanksgiving glorifies the dreary month of November?" "Neither a sermon nor a dinner is always a just cause for Thanksgiving," he replied, with a pleasant light in his gray eyes. "Then where is the force of your allusion?" she said, with a face innocently blank. "Well," replied he, hesitatingly, and blushing deeply, "perhaps my thought was that you might be an occasion for Thanksgiving if both sermon and dinner were wanting." Again there was a general laugh, but his aunt said, "Frank, Frank, have you learned to flatter?" Lottie shot a quick glance of pleased surprise at him, and was much amused at his evident confusion and flaming cheeks. To be sure his words were part of the old complimentary tune that she knew by heart, but his offering was like a flower that had upon it the morning dew. She recognized his grateful effort to repay her for supposed kindness, and saw that, though ill at ease in society, he was not a fool. "Would it not be better to wait till in possession before keeping a Thanksgiving?" said De Forrest, satirically. "Not necessarily," retorted Hemstead, quickly, for the remark was like the light touch of a spur. "I was grateful for the opportunity of seeing a fine picture at Cleveland, on my way here, that I never expect to own." Lottie smiled. The victim was not helpless. But she turned, and with a spice of coquetry said, "Still I think you are right, Mr. De Forrest." Then she noted that Mr. Hemstead's eyes were dancing with mirth at her hint to one who was evidently anxious to keep "Thanksgiving" over her any month in the year.