He had expected to find some change in Norine, but was not prepared for the great change that one year’s prosperity, with the advantages of city life, had wrought in her. That was because he had not taken “dress” into account. He had expected to find her improved mentally and physically, but he had never contemplated any change in her appearance. He had eliminated, in his masculine way, the subject of dress altogether, and in consequence he was dazzled by the magnificence of the apparition that descended from the carriage. Norine had found her power in dress, as most handsome women do, I fancy, at one time or another. She had departed arrayed in the greatest effort of the village dressmaker; she returned, and lo! she had been clothed by an artist. I would not have you think that Norine had become vain or frivolous. It was not that, for she was very simply and modestly attired. But there is a magnificence in simplicity, no less striking than is the other extreme. And when poor Conway went to assist this evolution of “dress” from the carriage, his heart leaped for a moment with pride and rapture, and the next instant sank to the lowest depths of despair. The simple grub of the mountains had evolved into the glittering butterfly of the metropolis. “Why, Lester, you have not welcomed me at all!” cried Norine, as she stood with her eyes and cheeks flaming with joy at being back. “I thought,” she said, pouting a little, “that you would be glad to see me!” “Glad?” cried Conway, but his eyes told the rest, and when he imprinted a brotherly kiss of welcome on her rounded cheek, there was a shyness in Norine’s receipt of the caress not altogether compatible with sisterly affection. “I am so glad to be back!” she said, beaming on the good Mrs. Higgins. “No matter where I live, this will always be my home. Oh, how lovely everything looks!” and she gave a little sigh of rapture. “Yes,” said Jim, who had come up with little Clinton in his arms, “there is no place like home. Now, I intend to have a pretty cottage put up this summer, and then we will have things something like----” “Why, Jim Bright!” exclaimed Norine, forgetting the new name in her indignation, “you shall do nothing of the kind. The old place shall not be changed at all. It would be desecration to touch it.” “Oh, all right,” replied Jim placidly. “If you are going to run the place, that settles it;” and he marched into the house with a great appearance of injury. Norine and Conway came slowly up the little path together. She slipped her hand shyly under his arm. “I do not think you are looking very well, Lester,” she said. “What is it?” “Oh, there is nothing the matter with me,” replied Conway, passing his hand over his hair with that old gesture of his. “There is nothing at all the matter--now. I have been working pretty hard, and I have been a little lonesome at times, nothing more.”