“Yes, Guy will undoubtedly marry,” he began, as just as over the top of the hill they were ascending horses’ heads were visible, and the Aikenside carriage appeared in view. “There he is now,” he exclaimed, adding quickly, “No, I am mistaken, there’s only a lady inside. It must be Agnes.” It was Agnes driving out alone, for the sole purpose of passing a place which had a singular attraction for her, the old, red cottage in Honedale. She recognized the doctor, and guessed whom he had with him. Putting up her glass, for which she had no more need than Jessie, she scrutinized the little figure bundled up in shawls, while she smiled her sweetest smile upon the doctor, and shook back her wealth of curls with the air and manner of a young, coquettish girl. “Oh, what a handsome lady! Who is she?” Maddy asked, turning to look after the carriage now swiftly descending the hill. “That is Jessie’s mother, Mrs. Agnes Remington,” the doctor replied. “She’ll feel flattered with your compliment.” “I did not mean to flatter. I said what I thought. She is handsome, beautiful, and so young, too. Was that a gold bracelet which flashed so on her arm?” The doctor presumed it was, though he had not noticed. Gold bracelets were not new to him as they were to Maddy, who continued: “I wonder if I’ll ever wear a bracelet like that?” “Would you like to?” the doctor asked, glancing at the small white wrist, around which the dark calico sleeve was closely buttoned, and thinking how much prettier and modest-looking it was than Agnes’ half bare arms, where the ornaments were flashing. “Y-e-s,” came hesitatingly from Maddy, who had a strong passion for jewelry. “I guess I would, though grandpa classes all such things with the pomps and vanities which I must renounce when I get to be good.” “And when will that be?” the doctor asked. Again Maddy sighed, as she replied, “I cannot tell. I thought so much about it while I was sick, that is, when I could think; but now I’m better, it goes away from me some. I know it is wrong, but I cannot help it. I’ve seen only a bit of pomp and vanity, but I must say that I like what I have seen, and I wish to see more. It’s very wicked, I know,” she kept on, as she met the queer expression of the doctor’s face; “and I know you think me so bad. You are good—a Christian, I suppose.” There was a strange light in the doctor’s eye as he answered, half sadly, “No, Maddy, I am not what you call a Christian. I have not renounced the pomps and vanities yet.” “Oh, I’m so sorry,” and Maddy’s eyes expressed all the sorrow she professed to feel. “You ought to be, now you are so old.” The doctor colored crimson, and stopping his horse under the dim shadow of a maple in a little hollow, he said: “I’m not so very old, Maddy; only twelve years older than yourself; and Agnes’s husband was more than twenty-five years _her_ senior.”