“It’s because she has no such joy in expectation. I should feel so, too, if I were thirty and unmarried,” Katy thought, as she noticed Marian’s agitation, and tried to divert her mind by talking of Europe and the places she had visited. “By the way, you were born in England? Were you ever at Alnwick?” Katy asked, and Marian replied, “Once, yes. I’ve seen the castle and the church. Did you go there—to St. Mary’s, I mean?” “Oh, yes, and I was never tired of that old churchyard. Wilford liked it, too, and we wandered by the hour among the sunken graves and quaint headstones.” “Do you remember any of the names upon the stones? Perhaps I may know them?” Marian asked; but Katy did not remember any, or if she did, it was not “Genevra Lambert, aged 22.” And so Marian asked her no more questions concerning Alnwick, but talked instead of London and other places, until three hours went by, and down in the street the coachman chafed and fretted at the long delay, wondering what kept his mistress in that neighborhood so long. Had she friends, or had she come on some errand of mercy? The latter most likely, he concluded, and so his face was not quite so cross when Katy at last appeared, looking at her watch and exclaiming at the lateness of the hour. Katy was very happy that morning, for seeing Marian had brought Silverton near to her, and airy as a bird she ran up the steps of her own dwelling, where the door opened as by magic, and Wilford himself confronted her, asking, with the tone which always made her heart beat, where she had been, and he waiting for her two whole hours. “Surely it was not necessary to stop so long with a seamstress,” he continued when she tried to explain. “Ten minutes would suffice for directions,” and he could not imagine what attraction there was in Miss Hazelton to keep her there three hours, and then the real cause of his vexation came out. He had come expressly for the carriage to take her and Sybil Grandon to a picnic up the river, whither his mother, Juno and Bell, had already gone. Mrs. Grandon must wonder why he stayed so long, and perhaps give up going. Could Katy be ready soon? and Wilford walked rapidly up and down the parlor with a restless motion of his hands which always betokened impatience. Poor Katy! how the brightness of the morning faded, and how averse she felt to joining that picnic, which she knew had been in prospect for some time, and had fancied she should enjoy! But not to-day, with that look on Wilford’s face, and the feeling that he was vexed. Still she could think of no reasonable excuse, and so an hour later found her driving into the country with Sybil Grandon, who received her apologies with as much good-natured grace as if she too had not worked herself into a passion at the delay, for Sybil had been very cross and impatient; but all this vanished when she met Wilford and saw that he was disturbed and irritated. Soft, and sweet, and smooth was she