Two years had made some changes in the twins, more perceptibly so in Kat than Kittie; for time and love work wonders, and while she would never quite reach the perfection of lady-like grace and dignity, that made Kittie so charmingly attractive, she certainly had quieted much, was more careful of her language and dress, and bade fair to be a most delightful little woman after all, and one that Ralph might well love and be proud of having won. When Kittie came up stairs, she was very quiet, and in answer to inquiries, said that her head ached. Kat was relieved to think she would not have to be on close guard, for she did not feel like telling her secret just then, and had rather dreaded Kittie's eyes. But Kittie was wholly absorbed in something else; she put away her things, and sat down by the window without saying much. "It's pretty near tea-time," remarked Kat presently. "Are you all ready?" "I--don't believe I'll go down," said Kittie. "I'm not hungry." "Humph!" thought Kat, with a sudden and intense curiosity. "I guess I'm not the only one that has a secret." "Did you have a pleasant ride?" she asked, after some silence. "Yes--very;" answered Kittie absently. "You were gone long enough." No answer. "I had a letter from Ralph;" guardedly. "Did you?" "Yes; I expect he'll come before long." "I'd like to see him;" with more interest. "Wouldn't you?" "Yes--rather," answered Kat, with a smile at herself in the glass, where she was comparing the effect of pink, or blue bow in her hair. "I'm going down now; what shall I say for you?" "That I've a headache, and not hungry," said Kittie, and Kat whisked gayly off, laughing to herself, to think how she had intended to be the mystifier, and instead, was the mystified. When Kittie was alone, she went to the glass, and leaning her chin in her hands, looked herself steadily in the face, as though absorbed in a new and astounding discovery. It was hard to tell just exactly how it affected her, for she looked a good deal astonished, rather sober, but very much pleased and a little bit shy. "I'm sure," she said, nodding to herself with all earnestness, "I never dreamed of such a thing before, but--but--I do believe it's so;" and then she colored up all of a sudden, and the reflection disappeared from view. Kat came upstairs very soon after supper, and found her sitting in just the same place by the window, and just as little inclined to talk as before, which made matters seem uncomfortable. "I declare!" muttered Kat, slamming about in the clothes-press, with no particular object in view, except to make a little noise. "This is abominable! I think she might tell me, but I'm not going to ask. I'm sure, I'd tell her quick enough, but she don't care, and I sha'n't 'till she asks me;" and then becoming aware of the inconsistency of her reflections Kat shut the door with some force, and sat down in silence.