To-morrow I shall have a foretaste of the future; I shall know what other people--not John and my relatives--think of me. Ah, there's only one thing they can think! To-morrow'll be the beginning of the world to me. To-morrow! To-morrow! Aunt Frank has sent out cards for an "At Home." And it's to-morrow! Oh, I'm glad I came here! I revel in the new home. I like the house; it looks so big and solid. I like my cousins--quiet little creatures. They wait upon me, anticipate my smallest wish, and defer to my opinions as if I were a white star queen dropped from the ether; all but Boy, and even he respects me because I can construe Caesar. I like my Aunt--devoted to clubs and committees, though she's forgotten them now in her eagerness to introduce me. Ah, to-morrow! Blessed to-morrow! And I like Aunt Marcia Baker. I wonder if, when I am older, I too shall be serene and stately, with a face that seems to have outlived sorrow; I can hardly believe now that I shall care to live at all when people's eyes have ceased to follow my beauty. When for me there are no more to-morrows. I think I shall like Mr. Hynes; he's almost one of the family, for he is betrothed to Milly, and I'm glad--ah, so glad I'm not she! What a life she looks forward to--each day exactly like its fellows; a droning, monotonous existence, keeping house, overseeing the cooking--perhaps doing it herself; for he's only a young lawyer, just starting in life! But I like his face, so full of impulse and imagination. I believe he's a man who might go far and achieve much. Why should he handicap himself with an early marriage? It's well enough for Milly; she doesn't understand her limitations. Why, she's almost as eager over to-morrow as if it could mean to her what it does to me; and that is an outlook into a life so glad, so wonderful! Dear, good Aunt Frank proposed the tea before my trunks were fairly unpacked. "Won't your Professor give you a holiday from--is it microbes you study?" she inquired. "Sure they're not dangerous?" "The afternoon tea bacillus is not wholly innocuous," suggested Uncle, pinching her cheek. It was good to see the loving look that reproved and repaid him. "Why, Bake," she protested, "tea never hurt anybody." "Oh, I've time enough," I said; "I have no regular days for going to Prof. Darmstetter, and the other studies--" It was on my tongue to add: "and the other studies don't matter," but I checked the words. "Well, you'll find it takes time," Aunt reminded me. "How about clothes, now? Suppose you show me what you brought." And in a few minutes we were all chattering at once in discussion of my modest little wardrobe. I could feel, as each new dress was shaken from its folds, that Aunt was more dissatisfied than she would confess. "Everything's pretty and tasteful," she conceded at last; "but--for a tea--if you could--" If she had dared, she'd have offered to get me a dress herself.