The bright-natured suitor’s conclusion, after reading what was meant as a quietus to his addresses, was not dissimilar. If the case were hopeless she would have written nothing. Nevertheless, he bowed to the laconic: “Do not write again.” He did more than she had commanded. Without attempting to see Hetty again, he escorted his sister in the second week of July to Long Branch, and stayed there a fortnight, then went with her to Mt. Desert for ten days more. The malign influence of a dog-day drought was upon Fairhill when the pair returned. The streets were deep in dust, the sun, a red and rayless ball, had rolled from east to west, and taken his own time in doing it, and was staining to a dingy crimson horizon-vapors that looked as dry as the dust, as brother and sister paused upon the piazza for a look over the familiar landscape. “It is stifling after the seashore!” breathed May. “But it is home! I am _glad_ to be back!” “And I—always!” March said it, in stooping, hat in hand, to kiss his mother. There was the ring of sincerity in his voice; his eyes were placid. He had come home to her cured of an ill-starred fancy for an ineligible girl. There was no sign of anything more than neighborly interest in his face when May asked at dinner-time how the Wayts were. “Well, I believe,” replied Mrs. Gilchrist. “I have seen comparatively little of them while you were away, except at church. It has been too hot for visiting. Yesterday I took Hester out to drive. She misses you sadly, May. She is thinner and has less color than when you went away.” “Dear little Queen Mab!” said Hester’s friend. “I must have her over to-morrow to spend the day. I have some books and sketches for her. And Hetty?” “Is as busy as usual, Hester tells me. She goes out very little, I believe. The young people hereabouts call her a recluse.” The unconscious judge came to the relief of all parties. “Mr. Wayt’s congregation continues large,” he remarked. “He preached a truly remarkable sermon last Sunday. At this rate we will have to pull down our church and build a larger by next year.” The wife looked gratified. It was much to have her husband speak of “our church.” May was content to wait for the morrow’s meeting with her pet. Hester was wild with impatience to be again with her worshiped friend. Hetty might remonstrate, and her mother entreat her not to intrude upon the family on the evening of the travelers’ arrival. The spoiled child was unmanageable. She could not sleep a wink, she protested, until she had kissed Miss May, and exchanged reports of the weeks separating them from the dear everyday intercourse. She would take with her the portfolio she had almost worked herself ill to fill with what May must think showed diligent endeavor to improve. “Then, there is the great news to tell!” “Wouldn’t it be well to wait a while before speaking of that?” dissuaded the mother.