“Yes, dear. But that is no very strange part of the story. Young ladies are not famous for keeping secrets, you know. I told a young friend, in confidence, of course, what Lizzie had told me. She, though bound to secrecy, very naturally confided the story to her particular friend and confidante, and so it went, until the young man came to hear of it. It so happened that both he and Lizzie were rather modest sort of young people, and, though mutually in love with each other, shrunk from letting any signs thereof become manifest. At a distance the young man worshiped, scarcely hoping that he would ever be, in the eyes of the maiden, more than a friend or acquaintance. But, when he heard of the love test, and was told that his face had appeared to the maiden, he took courage. The next time he met Lizzie, he drew to her side as naturally as iron draws to the magnet; and as he looked into her mild blue eyes, he saw that they were full of tenderness. The course of true love ran smoothly enough after that. On next Halloween they were made one, in the very room where, a year before, the never-to-be-forgotten love charm was tried.” On the next morning neither of the sisters were very bright. Maggy was pale; Jane did not make her appearance at the breakfast table, and Kate looked so thoughtful as she sipped her coffee with a spoon, and only pretended to eat, that her mother inquired seriously as to the cause. Kate blushed, and seemed a little confused, but said nothing was the matter. “I hope you have not been so silly as to try sweethearts,” remarked Mr. Wilmot. Instantly the tell-tale blood mounted to the brow of Kate. Maggy, likewise, found her color, and rather more of it than her cheeks were wont to bear. “Why girls!” exclaimed the father, who had spoken more in jest than in earnest. “Can it be possible—” But, before he could finish the sentence, both Kate and Maggy had risen from the table—their faces like scarlet—and were hastily leaving the room. “Really,” said Mr. Wilmot, “I thought better of them girls! What nonsense! This is all your fault, sister. I shouldn’t at all wonder if you were up with them trying _your_ sweetheart.” Aunt Edith smiled, in her quiet, self-possessed way, as she replied— “I hardly think, brother, you will find it any thing more serious than eating a salt egg on going to bed, or some trifling affair like that; for which I can readily excuse a young maiden.” “To think they should be so weak as to believe in nonsense of this kind!” said the father. “I hoped that my daughters had better sense.” “Don’t take the matter so seriously, brother,” replied Aunt Edith to this. “It has only been a little frolick.” “It has been rather a serious one, I should think, to judge from the effects produced. Jane, I presume, is too much indisposed to get up; and I am sure both Maggy and Kate look as if they had been sick for a week.” “They’ll all come out bright enough before noon. Don’t fear for that.”