I was so relieved to see her, for John has been writing of marriage soon and of a home, in one room if need be; and we have too much to accomplish, with beauty and woman's wit and brain and strength, for that. It is my duty to think for both, if he's too much in love--the dear, absurd fellow! And yet-- As soon as he was gone, Kitty jumped up from the drawing table. She was on pins and needles for anxiety, her eyes dancing. "Well, when's the wedding?" she cried. "What wedding?" I was vexed and puzzled, and distressed, too, after sending John away as I had done. I wanted to be alone and have a chance to think quietly. "Oh, any old wedding; will it be here, in the den? You going to invite us all?" asked Kitty. "Isn't going to be any wedding." "I'm sorry; I always did lot on weddings." "You'll have to be the bride, then. Honest, Kitty, I don't like jokes on such subjects. Mr. Burke and I haven't an idea of being married, not for centuries." Kitty went white all in a minute. She is so quick tempered. "Oh," said she, "you're going to throw him over. I thought as much! You were always writing to him when you first came to the city, and talking about him, at night when we brushed our hair; but lately you haven't spoken of him at all. You used to look happier when the postman brought you something from him. And you had his picture--" "The postman's?" I interrupted, but Kitty kept on as if she were wound up:-- "--on the mantel-piece, in a white-and-gold frame with your own. You hid 'em both when you began to grow beautiful. I suppose you think you're too good for him. But don't go and break his heart; please don't, Princess; there's a dear." "Goose! I haven't the least notion of breaking his heart. I--why can't you let me alone? I'm--I'm very fond of him--if you will insist on talking about it." "Oh, I can see! If you'd noticed the poor fellow's face--" "'Poor fellow!' If you'd seen him before you came! He doesn't need your pity. Why, it seems to have been with you a case of love at first sight," I said mockingly. "He was rude to you, too; he never even noticed that you were in the room, after I came." "I don't care. I don't expect a man to notice me when he meets his sweetheart for the first time in ever so long; and such a sweetheart! But you--you--oh, I'm afraid of you! I'm afraid of you! What is this mystery? What is it? Why have you grown so grand and terrible? What has become of my chum?" She sat down flat on the floor and burst into passionate weeping. "Get up!" I cried. "I won't!" A sense of great loneliness came over me and I threw myself down beside her. "Oh, Kitty," I said, "why aren't you old and wise and sensible instead of being just a silly girl like myself? Then you wouldn't sit here howling, but you'd kiss me and cuddle me and comfort me and tell me what to do." "I'm afraid of you! I'm afraid of you! It's--it's no' canny."