He went on to tell of the plan. The person who was to accompany her, who was to be in charge of everything, was Mrs. Jane Carter of Boston. She was very fond of Esther and the latter was equally fond of her. She was wise and capable and refined and educated; she was everything which a companion for the finest girl in the world should be. He and she had been in correspondence for some time. Mrs. Carter was to leave her house and her lodgers in charge of a friend and was prepared to start within two or three weeks, if necessary. “You and she can spend the summer traveling together, if you want to,” he went on. “There will be arrangements to make, and lots of things to find out about before you begin with your studies. You’ll have a good time--and I’ll have as good a time as I can until I can get over there with you. There! that’s the plan. Pretty good one, too, I think. What do you say to it?” She did not know what to say. The suddenness of its disclosure, the surprise, the conviction by this time forced upon her that her trip abroad was to be an actual, immediate reality and not the vaguely marvelous dream which had been in her mind for so long, were too overwhelming to permit her to think at all, much less speak or reason. In the endeavor to answer, to say something, she turned toward him and caught him off his guard. He was regarding her with a look of love and longing, which touched her to the core. It vanished as he saw her look and he smiled again, but she sprang from the rocker and, running to his side, put her arms about his neck and pressed her cheek to his. “Oh, no, Uncle Foster!” she cried. “No, I can’t do it. It is wonderful of you to plan such a thing for me. It is just like you. You are--oh, you are-- But I can’t go. It would be too selfish. I can’t go and leave you--all alone, here at home. It wouldn’t be right at all. No, I’ll wait until we can go together.” He took her hand in his and held it tight. “Oh, yes, you will, dearie,” he declared. “You’ll go because I want you to. I’ll be lonesome without you. Good Lord, yes! I’ll be lonesome, but I can stand it for a while. You’ll go. I want you to go. It is all settled--Eh? Confound it! there’s the bell. Who is coming here to-night? I don’t want to see anybody.” She, too, had heard the bell and she knew who had rung it. She had forgotten, but now she remembered. She withdrew her hand from her uncle’s grasp: “It is--I suppose it is--” she began; and then added, impulsively: “Oh, I wish he hadn’t come!” Foster Townsend looked up at her. “Eh?” he queried. “Oh, yes, yes! I forgot. Tuesday night, isn’t it. Well, all right; you and I can finish our talk to-morrow just as well.... Here! Where are you going?” She was on her way to the door. “I am going to tell him I can’t see him to-night,” she said. “No, no! Don’t do any such thing. Of course you’ll see him. You’ve got some news for him, too. He’ll be surprised, of course--and delighted, maybe.”