“Come, you needn’t put on these meek airs. I insist upon it, you have been feeling self-righteous and abused,” said John, laughing; “but ‘all’s well that ends well.’ Sit down, now, and write him a real sensible letter, like a nice honest woman as you are.” “And say, ‘Yes, sir, and thank you too’?” said Grace, laughing. “Well, something in that way,” said John. “You can fence it in with as many make-believes as is proper. And now, Gracie, this is deuced lucky! You see Sydenham will be down here at once; and it wouldn’t be exactly the thing for you to receive him at this house, and our only hotel is perfectly impracticable in winter; and that brings me to what I am here about. Lillie is going to New York to spend the holidays; and I wanted you to shut up, and come up and keep house for us. You see you have only one servant, and we have four to be looked after. You can bring your maid along, and then I will invite Walter to our house, where he will have a clear field; and you can settle all your matters between you.” “So Lillie is going to the Follingsbees’?” said Grace. “Yes: she had a long, desperately sentimental letter from Mrs. Follingsbee, urging, imploring, and entreating, and setting forth all the splendors and glories of New York. Between you and me, it strikes me that that Mrs. Follingsbee is an affected goose; but I couldn’t say so to Lillie, ‘by no manner of means.’ She professes an untold amount of admiration and friendship for Lillie, and sets such brilliant prospects before her, that I should be the most hard-hearted old Turk in existence if I were to raise any objections; and, in fact, Lillie is quite brilliant in anticipation, and makes herself so delightful that I am almost sorry that I agreed to let her go.” “When shall you want me, John?” “Well, this evening, say; and, by the way, couldn’t you come up and see Lillie a little while this morning? She sent her love to you, and said she was so hurried with packing, and all that, that she wanted you to excuse her not calling.” “Oh, yes! I’ll come,” said Grace, good-naturedly, “as soon as I have had time to put things in a little order.” “And write your letter,” said John, gayly, as he went out. “Don’t forget that.” Grace did not forget the letter; but we shall not indulge our readers with any peep over her shoulder, only saying that, though written with an abundance of precaution, it was one with which Walter Sydenham was well satisfied. Then she made her few arrangements in the housekeeping line, called in her grand vizier and prime minister from the kitchen, and held with her a counsel of ways and means; put on her india-rubbers and Polish boots, and walked up through the deep snow-drifts to the Springdale post-office, where she dropped the fateful letter with a good heart on the whole; and then she went on to John’s, the old home, to offer any parting services to Lillie that might be wanted.