"No," Dolly answered. "I haven't spirit enough. _My_ only spirit is in a lamp; I have been making flaxseed tea and hot lemonade for Ruth, who has a cold." "Does she swallow your messes?" Etheridge asked. "Never. But I like to fuss over them, and measure them out, and _stir_ them up!" "Just as I do for Evangeline Taylor," remarked Mrs. Kip, affectionately. "Lilian, isn't Evangeline long enough without that Taylor?" Dolly suggested. "I have always meant to ask you." "I do it as a remembrance of her father," replied Lilian, with solemnity "For I myself am a Taylor no longer; _I_ am a Kip." "Oh, is that it? And if you should marry again, what then could you do (as there is no second Evangeline) for your present name?" Dolly inquired, gravely. "I have thought of that," answered the widow. "And I have decided that I shall keep it. It shall precede any new name I may take; I should make it a condition." "You are warned, gentlemen," commented Dolly. Etheridge for an instant looked alarmed. Then, as he saw that Malachi had reddened violently, he grew savage. "Kip-Hill? Kip-Larue? Kip-Willoughby?" he repeated, as if trying them. "Walter Willoughby, however, is very poor dependence for you, Mrs. Lilian; for he is evidently here in the train of the Barclays. He arrived with them yesterday, and he tells me he is going up the Ocklawaha; I happen to know that the Barclays are taking that trip, also." Walter Willoughby's name had rendered Mrs. Kip visibly conscious a second time. The commodore's allusion to "the Barclays," and to Walter's being "in their train," had made no impression upon her. They were presumably ladies; but Lilian's mind was never troubled by the attractions of other women, she was never jealous. One reason for this immunity lay in the fact that she was always so actively engaged in the occupation of loving that she had no time for jealousy; another was that she had in her heart a soft conviction, modest but fixed, regarding the power of her own charms. As excuse for her, it may be mentioned that the conviction was not due to imagination, it was a certainty forced upon her by actual fact; from her earliest girlhood men had been constantly falling in love with her, and apparently they were going to continue it indefinitely. But though not jealous herself, she sympathized deeply with the pain which this tormenting feeling gave to others, and, on the present occasion, she feared that Malachi might be suffering from the mention of Walter Willoughby's name, and that of Achilles Larue, in connection with her own; she therefore began to talk quickly, as a diversion to another subject. "Oh, do you know, as I came here this afternoon I was reminded of something I have often meant to ask you--ask all of you, and I'll say it now, as it's in my mind. Don't you know that sign one so often sees everywhere--'Job Printing'? There is one in Charlotte Street, and it was seeing it there just now as I passed that made me think of it again.