“In a country place not far from Forest City. I took her for a nurse girl for Robbie, but as I wrote you, I’ve made a companion and daughter of her. She is invaluable in any capacity. The only trouble I have is keeping the young men from running off with her. She attracts a great deal of attention wherever we are stopping, and woe be it to any young woman who purposely ignores her. She makes her a wall-flower from that time on, and draws away every young man who would pay the offending one any attention.” “But how can she do it? Of course she is remarkably handsome, but that does not always—” “The goodness knows! It’s her own secret. Sometimes I think it is her compelling eyes that bring every one to her upon whom she casts them. Haven’t you noticed that quality in them?” “They are wonderfully bright, and—electrical,” replied Alice. “Electrical? Yes, that is the word. Aren’t they? I can sound Tibby’s praises by day and night. One feels them ever when not looking at her.” “Well,” said Mrs. Cramer, “we have very few young men here. None of much account, except Donald Bartram. He is nice, and entirely eligible, so you need not fear him. The girl is remarkably attractive.” Tibby Waring had indeed become an important element in Mr. Wylie’s household. Every one liked her, from Robbie, who was restless and uneasy in her absence, to Grandma Wylie, who, when she made her annual visits, insisted that Tibby was better than a doctor to relieve her aches and rheumatic pains. And Mr. and Mrs. Wylie found need of her on all occasions. From the position of servant she had become a daughter of the house. Her ready wit and imperturbably good humor made her a welcome adjunct in the parlor, and if some of Mrs. Wylie’s society friends sneered and complained of her when by themselves for her presumption in forcing an unknown girl upon them, they were careful not to shadow forth any dislike in her presence. Latterly, when traveling, Mrs. Wylie had introduced her as a foster-daughter, and thus Tibby was saved any affronts. Alice Cramer was never weary of watching both Tibby and her sister-in-law and feasting upon the brightness and freshness of their apparel, with the many little accessories of fashion which, of late, were unknown to her. And Mrs. Wylie herself was like a wild bird set at liberty. She sang and rode with Tibby and Mark over the plains, her fluffy blonde hair blowing in the wind, and her pink and white complexion, which no wind could mar, only took on a richer tinge, more healthful and attractive. But she became alarmed at the peculiarities which she observed in Alice. One day, while galloping over the soft turf, she questioned her brother. “Mark, is Alice entirely sane?” “Sane, Nellie! What do you mean?”