The doctor opened the window, and as the delicious breath of the pines crept in, the sick man stirred. He moved his head restlessly. But when Mrs. Mountain would have left her place to rearrange his pillows, suddenly his tongue loosed and he spoke, feebly indeed, and with an effort, but the words fell distinctly upon the listeners. “Years ago, I wanted--I intended she should be my wife if----” He stopped. Presently he gave evidence that the same thought was still in his mind. “Yes,” he murmured, “but I love her just as well.” The doctor moistened the dry lips, and the sisters both moved as if to assist, but one lifeless hand pressed heavily, and the poor member with a little vitality motioned Mrs. Mountain not to stir. So they remained, while hour after hour went by. The noonday was upon them when again the old face brightened and the quavering voice said slowly: “Yes, yes, I love her just as well.” The silence that followed was not broken again, and soon the faithful sisters spread the white sheet over the dear dead. That night, as they sat together in Mrs. Mountain’s stately parlor, Honora said with a sigh: “Perhaps, Letitia, it is just as well the Colonel never spoke to you about marriage. His family was not so good as our own, but I thought it strange he could see you so often and not love you.” And Letitia startled Mrs. Plum by contradicting her. “Child alive, Honora! I always knew the Colonel loved the ground you trod on.” OUR LITTLE NEIGHBORS. A first of April story. Jerry came in one spring morning wearing a very triumphant air. He caught the baby from the floor and tossed him as he said: “Well, Kittie, I have taken the house.” “Have you, dear? Now do just tell me all about it. Is it ‘The Cottage by the Sea’ or a ‘cobble-stone front’ at Riverdale? Have you plenty of neighbors, and a garden spot, and what rent? Pray don’t keep me in suspense!” An amused smile passed over his face as he seated himself. “Let me see, question No. 1. Is it the ‘Cottage by the Sea?’ Yes, if you choose, for the ocean is only three miles away; just a lovely drive or even walk through delicious pine wood. A ‘cobble-stone front?’ No, thank you. A small plain wooden box, of a dull gray color, well suited to its neighbors, for there is quite a community of Quakers in the vicinity. Neighbors near? Yes, decidedly, as our share is only half the box, after all. It was built for a summer home for two brothers, the Allens, next door to us, you know. Caleb cannot leave town this year, so we can occupy his quarters. Garden spot? Oh, yes; abundantly large, but all in one inclosure. The house is regularly divided, but the grounds are not. Don’t look worried, little wife; you and I and the baby are not likely to be troublesome, and I am sure Joseph Allen’s staid household will behave itself.”