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Your face was as bright and welcome as the sunshine." "If it hadn't been for thee " she began. Mrs. Yocomb raised a warning finger, and the girl stole away. "Can can I not see Miss Warren this morning?" I asked hesitatingly. "Thee must sleep first."

"Yes," I said emphatically, "they are nice people the best I ever knew." Miss Warren started violently, took a step toward the door, then paused, and Mrs. Yocomb entered first. "Why, Richard Morton!" she exclaimed, "what does thee mean by this imprudence?" "I mean to eat a supper that will astonish you," I replied, laughing. "But I didn't give thee leave to come down."

Like all brothers, I shall take liberties, and will subscribe in her behalf for the two best magazines in the city. Give Miss Warren this simple message: The words I last spoke to her shall ever be true." I also told Mrs. Yocomb of my promotion, and that I was no longer a night-owl. Toward the end of the week came another bulky letter, which I devoured, letting my dinner grow cold.

Instead of youthful ardor and bubbling happiness, the girl's face had a grave, sedate aspect that comported well with her coming dignities. Then she looked distressed. Was Mrs. Yocomb telling her of my profane and awful mood? I lent an inattentive ear to Mr.

"Miss Warren can tell you," I said, laughing, "that when people have been struck by lightning they often don't think straight for a long time to come." "Crooked thinking sometimes happens without so vivid a cause," Miss Warren responded, without looking around. "Zillah's right in thinking that thee can never be a stranger in this home," said Mrs. Yocomb warmly. "Mrs.

I am one of its editors, and this fact will reveal to you the calling from which I and many others, no doubt, have suffered. Thus you see that, after all, I have revealed my secret to you only. To your mother I revealed myself. I hope, sir, you will not reverse your decision?" I said to Mr. Yocomb. The old gentleman laughed heartily as he answered, "I have had my say about editors in general.

A second later he uttered my name in a strange, awed tone, and I entered hesitatingly. Little Zillah apparently lay sleeping in her crib, and Mrs. Yocomb was kneeling by her bedside. "Mother!" said Reuben, in a loud whisper. She did not answer. He knelt beside her, put his arm around her, and said, close to her ear, "Mother! why don't you speak to me?"

"It seems to me as if an age, crowded with events, had elapsed since I started on my aimless walk this morning," I said, half in soliloquy. "That you were directed hither will be cause for lasting gratitude. Was not the house on fire?" "Yes, but Reuben was invaluable. He was out on the piazza, and so was not hurt." "Was Mrs. Yocomb hurt?" she asked, looking at me in wild alarm.

"Yes, infinitely much against him: I feel as if he were seeking to marry my wife." "That's what thee said when out of thy mind," she exclaimed apprehensively. "I hope thee is not becoming feverish?" "Oh, no, Mrs. Yocomb, I've nothing against him at all. He is pre-eminently respectable, as the world goes.

"If Adah were only here!" I cried. "I miss her more and more every moment, and the occasion seems wholly incomplete without her." "Yes, dear child, I miss her too, more than I can tell you," said Mrs. Yocomb, her eyes growing very tender and wistful. "She's thinking of us. Doesn't thee think she has improved?