Life should not be all work, neither can it be all play and be enjoyable, as Frank Nason found to his sorrow. Whether a realizing sense of the scant respect Alice Page had for an idler, or his own experience in that role, opened his eyes first, is hard to say. It is likely that both had weight, and it is not to his discredit if the possible approbation of Alice was the sole cause of his changed ideas. That he wished her to feel it was, is certain, as the tone of his letters showed. In one which he wrote soon after his return to Boston he said, "My mother, and in fact all my people, seem to think so much more of me since I have set about fitting myself for a profession. Father says he is growing proud of me, and that pleases me best of all, for he is and always has been my best friend. Of course, I think the world of Blanch, and she seems to think I am the best fellow in the world. Little do any of them know or even guess that it is you for whom I am working, and always with the hope that you will deem me worthy of the great prize you well know I am striving for. How many times I recall every moment of that one short hour on the old mill-pond, and all that made it sacred to me, no one can tell. I go out little except to escort mother and the girls to the theatre once in a while, and so anxious am I to be able to pass an examination, I often go to the office and read law till midnight." When this effusion reached Alice the mountains around Sandgate were just putting on their autumn glory of color, and that night when she sat on the porch and heard the katydids in the fast thinning foliage of the elms she had what she called an old-fashioned fit of the blues. And how lonely it was there, too!