As Marion had said, Dollie’s face was the prettier of the two, but it was a babyish prettiness that meant weakness and uncertainty, while Marion’s was the glorious beauty of decision. As Marion told them of her evening’s experience Dollie’s rosy cheeks paled, while Ralph Moore ran his fingers through his black curls in excitement. “What a bad, wicked woman,” cried the little bride, indignantly. “To think of her subjecting you to such an insult. Why, she is a disgrace to her sex, isn’t she, darling?” “She is indeed,” was her husband’s fond answer as he stopped in his excited pacing to and fro, to kiss his wife’s soft, dimpled shoulder. “It is a shame that our dear sister should have to come in contact with such a creature, and to think that Marion was trying to do her a kindness.” Marion had removed her hat and unbound her beautiful hair, and now sat sipping a cup of chocolate that Dollie had hurriedly made for her. “What puzzles me most is that man,” she said, thoughtfully. “Oh, what a terrible face he had—it was hideously scarred and disfigured.” “He was probably drunk,” was her brother-in-law’s answer. “And no doubt he mistook you for some one else. I’ll tell the officer on the beat to keep a look-out for him in future.” “Well, it is very evident that there was no officer on the beat to-night,” said Marion, laughing, “for I screamed as loudly as I possibly could, and I only succeeded in awakening the echoes.” “Oh, the cop was probably in the corner saloon,” said Ralph Moore, disgustedly; “still, it’s lucky you screamed and scared the fellow. No one knows what he might have done if you hadn’t, sister.” “Oh, I have some news for you,” said Dollie, suddenly. “I got a letter from our old friend, Bert Jackson, to-day. He is coming home to be ready to sail for Europe with his foster-father next week, and in the fall he is going to college.” “That is good news,” said Marion, with a happy smile. “I wondered why we hadn’t heard from Bert since your wedding, but I suppose he has been having such a good time with his new parents in Canada that he did not have time to write to his old friends.” “He is a lucky boy,” said Dollie, thoughtfully. “Why, just think, only a few months ago he was a waif in a county poor farm! Oh, how lucky it was that he ran away. It is not every poor orphan that has such good fortune.” “And I am so glad that I helped him to escape,” said her sister, laughing. “I gave him five dollars the night he ran away—it was all I had, for I was only a country girl then, and you know, sister, that our father did not give us much money.” “Poor old dad,” said Dollie, with the tears springing to her eyes. “He has been a different man since you paid off the mortgage on the farm, Marion. Mother says he is so gentle that we would hardly know him.” This illusion to one of Marion’s many noble deeds made the fair girl very happy. It had been the greatest pleasure of her life to be able to pay off that mortgage on the homestead.