"I am very busy these days, sis," he replied, "and my mind is all taken up with work. Mr. Nason's business is increasing and I have a good many clients besides him." Then as if to draw her out, he added: "How did you like Blanch Nason?" "Oh, she was very nice," replied Alice coolly, "and if she were a poor girl and lived here I could easily learn to love her. As it is, it is useless for me to think of her as a friend. It was good of her to pay me a visit, though, and I enjoyed every minute of it." "And what about Frank?" queried Albert, eyeing his sister with a smile; "did he not say a lot of sweet things to you?" Alice colored. "Oh, he is nice enough," she answered, "and tried to make me believe he had fallen in love with me, but it won't do any good. I am sure his managing mamma will marry him to some thin girl with a fat purse, or aristocratic family, which, I imagine, is of more consequence to her." Albert gave a low and prolonged whistle. "So that is the way the wind blows, my sweet sister, is it?" he observed; "and yet my possible future law partner has been humming 'Ben Bolt' nearly every day for the past two months! I made believe you must have smiled on him very sweetly when he was here." The thought of one day when she had done more than smile at this young man brought even a deeper color than before to her face. "Please do not say any more about him, Bert," she answered with a little pain in her voice; "he is all right, but I am too poor and too proud to satisfy his mother, so that is all there is or ever will be to it." Then she added in self-protection, "Tell me about the island girl I heard you fell in love with on the yachting-trip, and for whom you deserted the crowd." It was his turn to look confused, and he did, in a way that smote his keen-eyed sister with sudden dread. "It is true, Bertie," she said quickly; "I can see it in your face. That explains your short letters." A little quiver passed over her lips and down the round chin like a tiny ripple on still water, and she added pathetically, "I hated to believe it, but it cannot be helped, I suppose. I shall feel more desolate now than ever." Then womanlike she said, "Is she very pretty, Bertie? She must be, or you would not have fallen in love with her so soon."