Somehow the atmosphere of America seemed different from what it used to be. It was colder, bluer, the little lady said, tapping her foot uneasily and looking from her windows at the Revere out upon the snowy streets, through which the wintry wind was blowing in heavy gales. “Yes, it is a heap colder,” she sighed, as she returned to the large chair which Esther had drawn for her before the cheerful fire, charging her disquiet to the weather, but never dreaming of imputing it to her husband, who was far more its cause than was the December cold. He, too, though glad of his father’s improvement, was sorry to have been recalled for nothing to a country which brought his old life back again, with all its forms and ceremonies, and revived his dread lest Katy should not acquit herself as was becoming Mrs. Wilford Cameron. In his selfishness he had kept her almost wholly to himself, so that the polish she was to acquire from her travels abroad was not as perceptible as he could desire. Katy was Katy still, in spite of London, Paris, or Rome. To be sure there was about her a little more maturity and self-assurance, but in all essential points she was the same: and Wilford winced as he thought how the free, impulsive manner which, among the Scottish hills, where there was no one to criticize, had been so charming to him, would shock his lady mother and sister Juno. And this it was which made him moody and silent, replying hastily to Katy when she said to him, “Please, Wilford, telegraph to Helen to be with mother at the West depot when we pass there to-morrow. The train stops five minutes, you know, and I want to see them so much. Will you, Wilford?” She had come up to him now, and was standing behind him, with her hands upon his shoulder; so she did not see the expression of his face as he answered quickly. “Yes, yes.” A moment after he quitted the room, and it was then that Katy, standing before the window, charged the day with what was strictly Wilford’s fault. Returning at last to her chair she went off into a reverie as to the new home to which she was going and the new friends she was to meet, wondering what they would think of her, and if they would like her. Once she had said to Wilford, “Which of your sisters shall I like best?” And Wilford had answered her by asking, “Which do you like best, _books_ or going to parties in full dress?” “Oh, parties and dress,” Katy had said, and Wilford had then rejoined, “You will like Juno best, for she is all fashion and gayety, while Blue-Bell prefers her books and the quiet of her own room.”