They say that after a storm there comes a calm, and a very true saying it is. After the storm of orange blossoms that raged around Ye Dene on that July day, there came a calm which was broken only by the excitement of watching for the postman. The most valuable of the wedding presents were safely packed up on the evening of the wedding day and consigned to Alfred Whittaker's private safe. The others were left in the girls' sitting-room, carefully covered up, in preparation for the long trip in which the bride and bridegroom were indulging themselves, prior to regular housekeeping. For years the Whittakers had made a point of seeking a fresh holiday resort with each summer, and this year, by a kind of instinct, they decided not to go to an English watering-place. Perhaps the feeling that the bride and groom were enjoying themselves in the Bernese Oberland, and meant to cover a good deal of ground before they turned their footsteps homewards, made them feel that the contrast of an English watering-place would be too much. They therefore decided that Dieppe would be a bright and convenient change for them; but they were not due to leave home until some ten days after the wedding. Now, it happened that Regina, instead of following the usual course of mothers, and making the little absent bride into a sort of deity, was possessed of a feeling that she would like in some way to reward her younger girl for her helpfulness at the time of the wedding, and the unselfish manner in which she had deferred in every possible way to her sister's wishes. She therefore determined that she would give Julia a little surprise present. No, it was not a birthday, it was not any kind of commemoration, but she felt that this was an occasion on which she could appropriately spend a little money. Now Regina was amply blessed with this world's goods--I mean in her own right. Alfred Whittaker had done extremely well in the world, and whereas Regina had once loomed in his horizon as an heiress in a modest way, she was now the wife of an exceedingly warm man, and happy in the possession of a tidy little income of her own. She breathed not a word of her purpose to a soul. She did not intend her little gift to take the form of raiment. Julia's father gave her an ample dress allowance, and Regina was in the habit of adding to it with special offerings at such times as birthdays and the season of Christmas. It was not difficult for her to carry out her purpose, for she had but seldom gone to town in company with her girls. She was so busy a woman, she had so many excuses, so many appointments and engagements of a semi-business kind, that her comings and goings were not often questioned. "What are you doing to-day, Julia?" she asked, one morning at breakfast, about a week after the wedding.