And Jessie did pity him and Dora, too, hardly knowing what was best, or what she ought to advise. She had been present when Robert returned from his interview with Dora, and as Richard could not wait till she was gone she came to know the whole, expressing great surprise, and wounding Richard cruelly by saying, “It has gone so far that I do not believe it can be prevented.” But Robert thought differently, and repeated Dora’s promise to talk with Squire Russell that night. “Then he will give her up,” Jessie exclaimed, “he is so generous and so wholly unselfish. Oh, how I do pity him!” and in the heat of her great pity Jessie would almost have been Dora’s substitute, if by that means she could have saved the Squire from pain. She did admire and like him, and appreciated his kind, affable, pleasant ways, all the more because they were so exactly the opposite of her father’s quick, brusque, nervous manner. The door of the library was open now, and she saw him sitting there as she passed, and longed so much to go and comfort him if the blow had fallen, or prepare him for it if it had not. I’ll see Dora first, she thought, and she hastened up to Dora’s door, but it was locked, while to her whispered question, “Have you told him yet?” Dora answered, “No, no, not yet; I can’t to-night. Please leave me, Jessie; I want to be alone.” It was the queerest thing she ever heard of, Jessie thought, as she turned away,—queerer than a novel ten times over. Then, as she spied Johnnie in the parlor, the little meddlesome lady felt a great desire to see if he suspected anything; but Johnnie did not, and only talked of Europe and the grand things he should see. Not a hint or insinuation, however broad, would he take, and mentally styling him stupid and dull, Jessie left him in disgust, and walked boldly into the library, apologizing for her call by saying she had been to see Dr. West, and thought the Squire might wish to hear directly from him. The Squire was very glad to hear, and glad also to see Jessie, who amused and interested him. “I have been thinking of calling myself, with Dora, but have not seen her this evening. Where is she?” he said. “Locked in her room,” Jessie replied, as she took the chair he offered her, and continued: “Dora acts queerly, but I suppose that is the way I shall do the night before I am married. Wouldn’t I feel so funny, though! Do you know you and Dora seem to me just like a novel, in which I am a side character; but to keep up the romance some tall, handsome knight ought at the last minute to appear and carry her off.” “And so make a tragedy so far as I am concerned,” the Squire said, playfully, as he smoothed the little black curly head moving so restlessly. “Oh, I guess you would not die,” Jessie replied; “not if Dora loved the knight the best. You would rather she should have him, and some time you would find another Dora who loved you best of all.”