Mrs. Dering went on with her sewing, and her heart, ever young, went back to the blissful days of her own life, like these in which Bea now lived, and she thought, with a smile: "Bless the dear innocent little heart. She doesn't suspect yet how happy she is, nor what precious meaning the little exchange of posies will soon take unto themselves." Olive was thinking of Bea's happy face and blithe laugh, and after her sister had gone singing from the room, she came over to her mother's side, and sat down on a stool there. "Mama, are you glad?" "Yes, dear, both glad and sad. A mother always dreads the time when she must begin to prepare herself to have her children leave her; but it must come, so if she can know that their new choice will bring them happiness, it, of course, lessens the pain which comes with losing them. Dr. Barnett is a good Christian, a perfect gentleman, and I think he loves Beatrice. I also think she is quite unconscious of it as yet, and I am very glad. I hope it will continue so. She is young yet, my dear little girl, and when she becomes aware of the new love, then I must be content with second place, and I do not want it to come yet." "And, mama--" "Well, dear." "I want to speak of something that may be all imagination on my part, and will take your word to settle it. But don't you think Ralph thinks a great deal of Kittie?" "Yes, he does; but it is all a brotherly feeling, anything else would be nonsense! Why, they're nothing but children!" said Mrs. Dering a little sharply. "I know Kittie is, and she never thinks of such a thing any more than a genuine kitten; but Ralph is twenty, mama," said Olive. "I know; and very old for his age in many things, but at heart he is nothing but a boy. He has always been at home with his mother, and has an almost girlish love and preference for ladies' society. He and Kittie are genial in amusements, just as you and he are in books and ambitions. They love each other as brother and sister, but as nothing more. I should be sorely displeased if any other idea should ever reach either." "It never will through me," said Olive. She then sat silent for a long time, and finally breaking the pause, by saying: "Mama, do you remember, one night a long time ago, when we were all telling disappointments?" "Yes, quite well." "Of course, it was all nonsense; but I have often thought since, that some time, I would tell you what I wanted to do." "And am I to hear now?" Olive smiled, and looked a little wistful.