Sometimes Daisy Jasper went down with her. Mr. Andersen came for them in the evening. Delia he thought wonderfully bright and entertaining. Ben liked him amazingly.

"But if I had all that money," said Ben, "I wouldn't confine myself to such puttering stuff as silks and laces and India shawls; I should want to do something high up and fine, like a magazine or a paper, that had influence and scope. Some day I mean to own a share in a paper, where you have a chance to touch up public opinion."

Herman Andersen seemed very happy and content. Mr. Jasper said he was going to make a fine, reliable business man. He really felt he wouldn't object to him for a son.

Grandmother Van Kortlandt was growing more feeble, and now and then had a bad spell. Doctor Joe made light of it, and told her red lavender and aromatic hartshorn were good for old ladies. She seemed to want her daughter near her. The young man who had alarmed Mrs. Underhill did not come so frequently, so she began to feel quite safe.

Oh, what a happy, happy summer it had been! The little girl was used to her long frocks, and studied ways of doing her hair, and practised Mendelssohn's "Songs without Words" because some one had said they were the most beautiful things he had ever heard. She and Daisy and Mr.

Andersen talked German, and had no end of fun.

One afternoon Mr. Andersen came in.

"Let us go up to the Crystal Palace," he said. "It is the most glorious afternoon imaginable. There is a sort of hazy red gold in the air, that exhilarates one. You feel as if you could soar to heaven's gate."

"We haven't been up in almost a fortnight," said Hanny, laughing.

"The more need of our going now. I enjoy these superb days to the full."

Hanny went to get her hat. Grandmother generally took her nap early in the afternoon. Mother was not in her own room, she saw, as she looked in, so she ran on down. She was not in the kitchen either.

"Joe," she cried--there was no one in the office, and he sat with his legs stretched out, and a book on the table beside him, looking very comfortable,--"Joe, where is mother?"

"Up with grandmother, dear. Don't disturb her. What did you want?"

"Oh, nothing--only to say--we are going up to the fair."

"Very well; run along. You look as sweet as a pink."

A bright color flashed over her face, and settled in her dimple, making it look like a rose as she smiled.

She was putting on her blossom-coloured lace mitts as she entered the room. Some one else thought she looked as sweet as a pink when he rose, and led the way.

She turned down the street.

"Oh, Daisy is not going," he said. "She had a headache all the morning.

You don't mind?"

"Oh, no. Poor dear Daisy! And I didn't go in!" Her voice was touched with the sweetest regret and compassion.

Doctor Joe went upstairs presently, to grandmother.

"Her breathing is better," he said. "I have tried a new remedy. When she has had some sleep she will be all right. This isn't quite a normal state yet. Call me if there is any special change."

Then he went down to the office again. People came more in the morning or the evening, and he had attended to his urgent calls. He was glad not to go out just then. But he thought of the young people on their way to the palace of delight. Had he ever been young and joyous, as the youth of to-day? He had studied and worked, taught some, used up all his time, and had none for the passing vagaries. What made him feel old, and as if some of the rarest delights would pass him by?

There was a light tap at the office-door, though it stood ajar. He rose and opened it wider.

"Why, Daisy Jasper!" he cried in amazement. "Or is it your wraith? I thought you had gone to the fair with Hanny."

She had been very pale; now she flushed a little. There was a tremulousness about her, and shadows under her eyes.

"I had a headache all the morning; most of the night as well. It has gone off somewhat, but I didn't feel well enough for that."

"No, of course not." He led her to the pretty library, that was always having a picture or a set of books added. You couldn't put in any more easy-chairs. He placed her in one. As he touched her hand, he felt the feverish tremble.

"My dear child, what is it?"

Her eyes drooped, and tears beaded the lashes.

"You shouldn't have come out. Why did you not send for me?"

"I--I wanted to come. I knew Hanny would be gone. I wanted to see you."

She was strangely embarrassed.

He was standing by the side of the chair and took her hand again. How limp and lifeless it seemed!

"I wanted to see you--to ask you, to tell you--oh, how shall I say it!--if you could help me a little. You are so wise, and can think of so many ways--and I am so afraid he loves me--it would not be right--"

Yes, that was it. This bright, charming, well-bred, fortunate young fellow loved her. He could keep her like a little queen. And she had some conscientious scruple about her health, and her trifling lameness, and all. A word from him would keep her where she was. He had carried her in his arms, his little ewe lamb. No man could ever give her the exquisite care that he would be able to bestow. Oh, could he let any one take her out of his life!

Yet some one younger and richer loved her. Yes, he _must_ stand aside.

"My child,"--he would be grave and fatherly,--"I think you are making yourself needless trouble. Why should you refuse a good man's love? You have your beauty, and a gift that is really a genius, and though you may not be as strong as some women, that is no reason why you should deny yourself the choicest blessing of a woman's life."

"But"--she gave a little sob--"I thought you might blame me for being heedless. We have all been such friends. And I don't want anything to mar the perfect pleasantness. I know it is not right because--how can I make you understand! It might wound you if I said it--I think it can never be that kind of love--"

Did he hear aright, or was it some subtle temptation?

"You, of all other women, should be careful not to make a mistake. It would mean more to you afterward--if matters went a little wrong."

"And he is so gay, so full of life and fun, and always wanting one to keep up to the highest pitch. It would not be the right thing for him."

"But he is very gentle as well."

"Dr. Underhill, tell me that it isn't the right step for me to take, _ever_," Daisy said decisively.

"I cannot tell you any such thing. I will not bar you out of any happiness."

Perhaps he really approved of it. They were all in a way proud of the younger brother. And Jim thought there was no such splendid man in the world as the doctor. Oh, if she only knew! She was heroic enough to please them all for the sake of the past and present friendship. But she had a doubt of Mrs. Underhill's approval. She might give in as she had to Delia; and now she had really begun to find virtues in Ben's wife.

But with Jim's brilliant nature always on the alert for amusement, she, Daisy, would be worn out trying to keep up to his standard.

She rose slowly. "I ought not have come," she began in a despondent tone. "I thought I could talk it all over with you; but I must decide, and bear the pain. You may all feel hurt, even if you acknowledge the wisdom of my decision. It would be a delight to come and live with you all; I who have had no brothers or sisters. But I think Jim will soon get over it, especially if _you_ point out the unwisdom of it all. Maybe you will take me back into favour then, when the soreness is spent."

"Jim," he repeated, in a vague, absent sort of way. "Jim! Who are you talking about, Daisy?"

Her face was scarlet, and her eyes full of tears.

"Your brother James. It is a shame, I know, to betray one man's inmost secrets to another. But I am quite sure that I ought not, that I cannot, marry him. Oh, will you all forgive me, and help him to forget all but the friendship?"