Mary Ann's prophecy was fulfilled. Her mother stood beside her at the garden gate when Jane and Selina drove away, her glances up and down the sunny street evincing all a convalescent's freshened interest in the outside world. The two faces were alike and yet unlike. The joy of living was in both; but a little uncertainty, a little appeal in the older woman's told that with her it depended to some degree upon the steadier flow of animal spirits in the younger. Jane and Selina turned for a last look at the portly figures and waving handkerchiefs. "Who would think to look at them," said Jane, "that Ma had only just returned from the jaws of death! It ought to be a warning to them. Some day she'll go off in one of those attacks." "Ma'n'Mary Ann are as like as two peas," said Selina. "They're Maberlys. There never was a Maberly yet that knew how to look ahead. I declare, it gave me the shivers to see these two plunging right out of a sick-bed into colors and fashions the way they did. Ma'd ought to listen to us and sell her house and live round with her married children; at her age she'd ought to be some place where sickness and death are treated in a serious way." Upon this point Mrs. Colquhoun was firm. She could never go back to life on a farm again, she said; "living in town was _living_." But she compromised by agreeing to devote the whole of the next summer to visiting her married children. That was a long summer to Mary Ann. There was something wanting in all the small accustomed pleasures of her simple life, until the middle of August came, and the time set for her mother's return was within counting distance. Then her spirits rose higher with every hour. As a toper would celebrate his happiness at the saloon, she went to Mr. Merrill's dry-goods shop, and after a revel in that part of it where color most ran riot, she bought new chintz covering for the parlor furniture, a chrysanthemum pattern in various shades of fawn and glowing crimson. The next step was to plan a reception to welcome her mother home and exhibit the new covering. Then a mighty idea struck her--this was the opportunity for the crimson velvet dress! "I mayn't never have as good an excuse for it again," she said to the sewing-girl, "and it's the one thing needed to make everything complete. Me in that crimson and Ma in the fawn silk she had made when the Reverend Mr. Ellis came will be a perfect match for the furniture." She patted the sofa back with affectionate pride.