“Really, I think it’s unkind of you to stay at home so much when you know mother doesn’t like me to go without you.” “But she let you go last night.” “Yes, because father asked her to. But she didn’t want to do it.” Charlotte paused in her work and regarded her sister with brown eyes sparkling. “Say, Rhoda,” she giggled, “do you suppose father would have sided with me if he’d known about--Horace, last fall?” Rhoda laughed, then drew her face into admonishing seriousness. “Aren’t you ever going to be ashamed of yourself about that, Charlotte? You ought to be!” “Indeed I’m not! And I’ll do it again some day, if you don’t quit being such an old maid and sticking at home so much!” “I guess Horace would know better another time.” “Well, he’s not the only one!” Charlotte tossed her head and her saucy countenance twinkled with mischief. Rhoda noted her expression and wondered what it might portend, but said nothing. “If you’re not going to marry Jeff Delavan,” she went on, “it’s time somebody else did! The idea of letting such a fine young man, with a beautiful old estate like Fairmount, pine away in single misery!” “Jeff is free to marry any one he likes, who’ll have him.” “Who’ll have him! The idea! Rhoda, I never heard of such a simpleton as you are! Well, if you’re determined to be an old maid, after such a chance as that, you don’t deserve a bit of sympathy, no matter what happens.” Charlotte pursed her lips to the tune of “Comin’ thro’ the Rye” and started toward the door. “Jeff was exceedingly nice to me on the boat going down to Cincinnati,” she threw back with a bright glance over her shoulder. “Jeff is a gentleman and is always very courteous and attentive to ladies.” “Oh, is he?” was Charlotte’s response with a significant intonation. “Well, I’m awfully tired of all the young men in Hillside and--Horace isn’t the only one, Rhoda!” she ended in her most teasing accents as she danced away, waving her duster. In spite of all her efforts to drive it away, a dull ache settled in Rhoda’s breast as she thought over Charlotte’s words. She felt sure that behind them lay some intention of more moment than were that young lady’s ordinary vagaries. As she had so often done before, she told herself sharply that she had no right to stand in Charlotte’s way, that if she did not intend to marry Jefferson Delavan she ought not to try to hold his love. And her heart answered back triumphantly that Jeff knew very well he could not hope to make her his wife and that if he nevertheless chose to remain faithful to her she could not be blamed.