"Tell about him; Miss Celia said you might," put in Bab, whose experience of "jolly" ministers had been small. "Oh, there isn't much about it. We met in Switzerland going up Mount St. Bernard in a storm, and--" "Where the good dogs live?" inquired Betty, hoping they would come into the story. "Yes; we spent the night up there, and George gave us his room; the house was so full, and he wouldn't let me go down a steep place where I wanted to, and Celia thought he'd saved my life, and was very good to him. Then we kept meeting, and the first thing I knew she went and was engaged to him. I didn't care, only she would come home so he might go on studying hard and get through quick. That was a year ago, and last winter we were in New York at uncle's; and then, in the spring, I was sick, and we came here, and that's all." "Shall you live here always when you come back?" asked Bab, as Thorny paused for breath. "Celia wants to. I shall go to college, so _I_ don't mind. George is going to help the old minister here and see how he likes it. I'm to study with him, and if he is as pleasant as he used to be we shall have capital times,--see if we don't." "I wonder if he will want me round," said Ben, feeling no desire to be a tramp again. "_I_ do, so you needn't fret about that, my hearty," answered Thorny, with a resounding slap on the shoulder which re-assured Ben more than any promises. "I'd like to see a live wedding, then we could play it with our dolls. I've got a nice piece of mosquito netting for a veil, and Belinda's white dress is clean. Do you s'pose Miss Celia will ask us to hers?" said Betty to Bab, as the boys began to discuss St. Bernard dogs with spirit. "I wish I could, dears," answered a voice behind them, and there was Miss Celia, looking so happy that the little girls wondered what the letter could have said to give her such bright eyes and smiling lips. "I shall not be gone long, or be a bit changed when I come back, to live among you years I hope, for I am fond of the old place now, and mean it shall be home," she added, caressing the yellow heads as if they were dear to her. "Oh, goody!" cried Bab, while Betty whispered with both arms round Miss Celia: "I don't think we _could_ bear to have anybody else come here to live." "It is very pleasant to hear you say that, and I mean to make others feel so, if I can. I have been trying a little this summer, but when I come back I shall go to work in earnest to be a good minister's wife, and you must help me." "We will," promised both children, ready for anything except preaching in the high pulpit. Then Miss Celia turned to Ben, saying, in the respectful way that always made him feel, at least, twenty-five: "We shall be off to-morrow, and I leave you in charge. Go on just as if we were here, and be sure nothing will be changed as far as you are concerned when we come back."