We will pass briefly over the events of the next five years, during which there were few changes in the Keith family but such as time must bring to all.

The lines had deepened somewhat on Mr. Keith's brow and the hair on his temples was growing gray. The anxieties and burdens of life pressed more heavily upon him than upon his lighter-hearted, more trustful wife; she having learned more fully than he to "lean hard" upon the Lord, casting all her care upon him, in the full assurance that he cared for her and "that all things work together for good to them that love God;" she looked scarcely a day older than at the time of Mildred's return from her visit to Roselands.

These had been years of toil and struggle to feed, clothe, and educate their large family of children. They had thus far been successful, but only by dint of good management, close economy, and hard work.

Rupert had completed his college course and gone into the drug business in connection with Dr. Grange.

It was a great joy to Mildred that her earnings as music teacher had assisted largely in paying the expense of her brother's education. Rupert found it hard to consent to this, but finally did so with the distinct understanding that he was to repay the money with interest. "The sisterly kindness," he said, "I can never repay."

"Yes," Mildred returned, with an arch look and smile, "you can; by showing, in like manner, brotherly kindness to Cyril and Don."

"As I certainly hope to do," Rupert responded with hearty good-will.

And now he and Mildred were pleasing themselves with the thought that the worst of the struggle was over. Zillah and Ada were done with school, though still pursuing some studies with Mildred at home; it had been decided that Fan and Annis could and should be entirely educated by the older sisters; and so Cyril and Don were the only ones whose tuition would still be an item of expense to the parents—an expense of which the good daughter and son each hoped to bear a part.

Rupert would be able to do so after awhile—"by the time the lads were ready for college"—and Mildred could assist now; as she was still teaching, and finding it more profitable than ever.

It sometimes seemed weary work, but she would not give it up; indeed, the joy of helping to bear the burdens of the dear father and mother far more than repaid her for her self-denying toil.

The town had grown very much, and one of the new-comers was a music teacher; but Mildred had established a good reputation, and had always as many pupils as she cared to take.

In all these years she had heard not a word from Charlie Landreth; yet her heart remained true to him.

She did not seclude herself from society, but generally took part in the innocent pastimes of the young people of her own station, and was always cheerful and pleasant, not seldom even gay and lively; now and then she accepted the escort of one or another of her gentlemen friends, but she would not receive particular attentions from any. Still one or two had determinately sought her hand in marriage, but only to meet with a gentle yet firm rejection.

Wallace Ormsby still continued on the most friendly terms of intimacy in the family, and after two years had passed without news of his favored rival, ventured to renew his suit. The result of this effort convinced him of the utter hopelessness of ever winning the coveted prize. He grieved over this second disappointment for a time, but of late had begun to turn his longing eyes in a new direction, and Mildred perceived it with pleasure.

Wallace had been taken into partnership with Mr. Keith, and she would gladly welcome him into the family, for she had, as she had said, a truly sisterly affection for him.

Zillah and Ada were budding into very lovely womanhood. Of the two, Zillah was the more strikingly handsome and the more sprightly; full of innocent mirth and gayety, witty and quick at repartee, she was the life of every company of which she formed a part.

Ada's manner was more quiet and reserved, but suited well with her intellectual countenance and the noble contour of her features. They were inseparable, and whenever opportunity offered Wallace Ormsby was sure to be with them.

Speculation was rife among the gossips of the town as to which "he was courting," or whether it might be that he was in love with both. Mildred, with her better opportunities for observation, and vision sharpened by keen sisterly affection, presently settled that question in her own mind, and satisfied herself that in this instance the course of true love was likely to run smooth.

The little coterie of which Mildred and Wallace had formed a part was broken up—the other four having paired off for life; it was known now that Claudina Chetwood was engaged to Yorke Mocker, and Lucilla Grange to Will Chetwood.

It was the afternoon for the meeting of the ladies' sewing society. They were preparing a box of clothing for a Western home missionary. The whole Keith family took a deep interest in the good work; each one had contributed toward it; the three older girls were at the meeting, busily plying their needles, while at home the mother was finishing a garment, the two little girls sitting beside her hemming towels: all for the box.

Indeed, the interest was very general in the church, and there was a goodly gathering of ladies in Mrs. Prior's parlor, where the society held its meeting this week. The room was large and the busy workers had grouped themselves together here and there as inclination dictated: Mildred, Claudina, and Lu forming one group; Zillah, Ada, and several of their young companions another; while a third was composed of older ladies.

The three heads in the first group were very close together, the three voices conversing earnestly in tones too subdued to give any of the others an inkling of the subject of their talk. But there were wise surmises.

"I reckon they're planning for the weddings," whispered one elderly lady to her next neighbor, indicating by a motion of the head whom she meant.

"Likely," was the rejoinder. "Do you know when they're to come off?"

"No; but before long, I guess. I don't see that there's anything to wait for."

"Unless for Mildred and Wallace Ormsby to make it up together, so that the whole six can pair off at once and so make a triple wedding. It would be a novel and pretty idea, now wouldn't it?"

"Yes; and I used to think that would be a match, but I've changed my mind. It's plain to be seen now that it's one of the younger sisters he's after."

"Mildred's young enough; doesn't look a day over twenty, though I suppose she's really twenty-three or four."

"About that, I suppose; but she could easily pass for eighteen. I wonder if she's made up her mind to be an old maid. If I can read the signs Wallace was deeply in love with her at one time; and it's said she's had other offers."

"I don't doubt it; she's too charming to have escaped that, if the young men have any taste. Yet she's not so handsome, after all, as Zillah. I wonder why she wouldn't have Wallace; he's fine-looking, and an excellent match every way."

"Perhaps she left her heart in the South. I've thought I could see a change in her ever since her visit there. Well, I don't believe her mother's in any hurry to have her marry and leave, for there never was a better daughter or sister. I've heard Mrs. Keith say more than once that she didn't know how she could ever do without Mildred."

"And she may well say so," joined in Mrs. Prior; "the other two are uncommon nice girls, but Mildred bears off the palm to my thinking. I hear folks wondering now and then how it is that Mr. Lord has lived single all these years. I don't profess to know anything for certain about it, but I've strong suspicions that he's tried for Mildred Keith and couldn't get her, and can't be content to take anybody else."

"She seems cut out for a minister's wife," remarked one of the others.

"Yes; she'd make a good one, I don't doubt," assented Mrs. Prior; "but I don't blame her for refusing him (if she has done it); it's a kind of a hard life, and he's too old for her and too absented-minded and odd."

The girls—Mildred and her mates—were talking over the arrangements for the approaching nuptials. The young men wanted a double wedding and the girls were not averse to the idea, but the parents of each wanted to see their own daughter married beneath their own roof.

"My father says the ceremony ought to be performed in his house, since one of the contracting parties in each case is his child," said Claudina; "but Dr. Grange can't see the force of the argument."

"No," said Lu, "both he and mother say that it is always at the house of the bride's parents the ceremony should be performed."

"Can't you compromise by having it in the church?" asked Mildred.

"That is what we'll have to do, I presume," said Claudina, "if we are to have a double wedding. And O Mildred! if you and Wallace would only make up a match and let us have a triple one, I think it would be just splendid."

"And so do I," chimed in Lu. "Now what's to hinder?"

"A good deal," replied Mildred with a smile and a blush. "I doubt if it wouldn't make three or four people unhappy for life."

"What can you mean! I've been perfectly sure for years past that Wallace adored you," was Claudina's surprised exclamation.

Mildred's only reply was a quiet smile.

"And I dare say he must have popped the question before this," Claudina went on teasingly; "so now do be good and obliging enough to fall in with my plan, for it's a capital one. Isn't it, Lu?"

"Oh! just lovely," was the eager rejoinder. "Mildred, do; that's a dear!"

"Indeed, girls," Mildred said, her eyes dancing with merriment, "I do like to oblige, but in this instance it is beyond the bounds of possibility. Whatever you may think, Wallace does not want me, nor I him."

"Well, then, all I have to say is that neither of you has good taste. And I'd set my heart on the match," Claudina said in pretended indignation.

Meantime the younger girls were chatting gayly among themselves, flitting lightly from one theme to another—school affairs, pleasure parties, dress, and beaux; teasing each other about the latter, as young girls will.

Zillah and Ada came in for their share. "Which of them was Wallace Ormsby courting?" they were asked.

"Probably both," Ada answered in a tone of irony. "He is a man of original ideas, and doesn't always do things by rule."

"And he knows we can't live apart," added Zillah, blushing and smiling.

"Nonsense! he can't marry you both. Now which of you is it?"

"Suppose you ask him," returned Zillah, the color deepening still more on her cheek.

"I declare I've a great mind to! I believe I'll do it to-night, if I get a chance," returned her tormentor laughingly.

It was the custom for the ladies to come to the society as early in the afternoon as practicable, stay to a plain tea and until nine or ten o'clock in the evening, the gentlemen joining them for the last hour or two—an arrangement which served the double purpose of interesting the latter in the good work in a way to draw forth their contributions, and to provide escorts for the ladies on their homeward walk.

There was a full attendance that evening. Among the early arrivals came Nicholas Ransquattle, bowing low, right and left, as he entered the room. "Good-evening, ladies. I'm happy to see you all." Then straightening himself and throwing back his head (now grown very bald) upon his shoulders in the old, awkward fashion, he sent his dull gray eyes searchingly about the room.

"He's looking for you," Zillah's next neighbor whispered in her ear. "I heard the other day that he said down town, talking with some of the fellows, that he was going to cut Wallace Ormsby out. And there, just see! he's making straight for this corner. You ought to feel proud of your conquest, Zil."

"Not till I'm sure I've made it, Sallie; no, not even then," Zillah returned somewhat scornfully; "since I should be but one among the multitude of his adorable angels."

Sallie laughed and nodded assent, as Nicholas drew up a chair and seated himself between them.

It was the common report that he had courted every girl of marriageable age in the town, offering heart and hand to each in succession as they moved into the place or grew to young maidenhood. No one had accepted him yet; he had never been attractive to the softer sex, and did not become more so with advancing years. Behind his back the girls were unsparing in their ridicule of his awkward carriage, homely features, and unbounded vanity and self-conceit. They had dubbed him "Old Nick" and "The Bald Eagle."

"Permit your humble servant to be a thorn between two roses, ladies," he said with another low bow as he seated himself.

"Provided you are a useful one, Mr. Ransquattle," replied Sallie, giving him a needle to thread. "They are of use sometimes, I suppose."

"Yes, Miss Rush, to protect the roses, which I shall be most happy to do."

"Protect them from what?" asked Zillah dryly.

"From rude and careless hands that would fain pluck them from the parent stem; perchance only to cast them neglectfully aside and let them die." And Nicholas glanced significantly toward Ormsby, who had entered the room at that moment, and was bidding "Good-evening" to their hostess.

Wallace caught the glance, noted by whom Ransquattle was seated, and flushed angrily.

"Roses must die whether plucked or not," remarked Sallie, "and the fingers that pluck them save them from wasting their sweetness on the desert air."

"You'll never be left to so sad a fate, Miss Rush," was the gallant rejoinder.

"I don't know," she replied, laughing and shaking her head, "there may be some danger if the thorns are too close when the gatherer of roses comes."

Wallace had found a seat near Mildred, and she noticed that as he talked with her he stole many a furtive and ill-pleased glance in Zillah's direction.

Mildred was folding up her work.

"You are not going yet," he said. "It wants a full half hour of the usual time for dispersing."

"I know, but Mrs. Smith is very sick, and I have promised to watch with her to-night."

"Milly, I'm going home," Ada said, coming up at that instant. "Mother will be lonely, perhaps, and I can work just as well there as here."

"But I must go now, and we must not leave Zillah to go home alone."

"No, but Ru will be here directly I—"

"Let me have the pleasure of escorting you both, and I'll come back for Zillah," said Wallace, speaking hastily in an undertone.

His offer was accepted, and the three slipped quietly away. Mrs. Smith's house was the nearer, and not much out of the way in going to Mr. Keith's; so Mildred was seen to her destination first, then Wallace and Ada walked on to hers.

Wallace expected to leave her at the door, and returning in good season, ask the privilege of seeing Zillah safely home also; but Mr. Keith called him in, saying he had an important matter to consult him about, and in spite of the young man's ill-concealed impatience to be gone, kept him there for more than an hour.

In the mean time Ransquattle made good use of his opportunity; managing so that, to Zillah's extreme vexation, she could not reject his offered escort without great rudeness.

"Forewarned, forearmed," she said to herself, thinking of Sallie's gossip as they set out: "'twill go hard with me, but I'll prevent his getting his opportunity to-night;" and she rattled on in the liveliest strain without an instant's intermission, talking the most absurd nonsense just to prevent her companion from opening his lips.

They had reached her father's gate before he succeeded in doing so. She had no notion of asking him in.

"Good-night, Mr. Ransquattle," she said gayly, letting go his arm and stepping hastily inside as he held the gate open for her. "I'm much obliged for your trouble."

"Excuse me, Miss Zillah, for detaining you a moment, but I have something very particular to tell you," he said, hardly waiting for the end of her sentence. "You are a very lovely and charming young lady."

"Oh, that's no news! I've heard it dozens of times," she interrupted, laughing and taking a backward step as if on the point of running away.

"No doubt; but never, I am sure, from so devoted an admirer as your humble servant. Miss Zillah, I lay my heart, hand, and fortune at your feet."

"Oh don't Mr. Ransquattle," she interrupted again, half-recoiling as she spoke; "it's a dangerous place to lay articles so valuable, lest perchance they should be accidentally trodden on."

"Can you have misunderstood me?" he asked, as it would seem in some surprise at her obtuseness. "I meant to ask you to marry me. Will you? But don't answer now. Take time to consider, and I will call to-morrow to learn my fate from the sweetest lips in the world."

He was bowing an adieu; but now she detained him. Drawing herself up with dignity, and speaking in a calm, cold tone of firm determination, "No, do not call, Mr. Ransquattle," she said: "I need no time to consider the question you have asked, and will give you your answer now. I can never bestow my heart upon you, and therefore never my hand. Good-night, sir;" and turning, she hastened with a quick, light step toward the house.

In the hall she met Wallace, who had just left her father in the sitting-room busy over some law papers.

"Zillah!" he exclaimed, "what is it? what has happened?"

"Why do you ask? why do you think anything has happened?" she returned, half averting her face.

"Because you look so flushed and indignant. If anybody has been insulting you—"

"O Wallace, what nonsense!" she cried, with a little nervous laugh.

"Well, I'm glad if it is not so," he said. "I hope no one would dare. I meant to go back to the society directly, hoping to have the pleasure of seeing you home, but was unavoidably detained. It's early yet though, and such a lovely moonlight evening. Won't you take a little stroll with me?"

"If you'll wait a moment till I tell mother we're going."

Mildred, finding she was not needed at Mrs. Smith's, had returned home and was just ready for bed; had blown out her candle and was standing by the window gazing out and thinking how lovely everything looked in the moonlight, when her door opened softly and the next instant Zillah's arms were about her neck, her face half hidden on her shoulder.

"How you tremble!" Mildred said, putting an arm around the slender waist; "has anything gone wrong?"

"O Milly, such a funny time as I've had in the last hour or two!" and the eyes that looked up into Mildred's face were fairly dancing with merriment. "I seem destined to play second fiddle to you, so far as the admiration of the other sex is concerned; having actually received proposals of marriage from two of your old beaux in this one evening."

"Indeed! Well, I hope you did not accept both," Mildred said laughingly.

"Not both, but one," she whispered with a low, joyous laugh, and a blush that was visible even in the moonlight. "O Milly, I'm so happy! I don't care if I am taking what you refused. Wallace is far beyond my deserts, and I wouldn't exchange him for a king."

"Wallace! O Zillah, how glad I am! I need no longer feel remorseful for having wrecked his happiness, and shall rejoice to call him brother: he will be one to be proud of."

"Yes; I am obliged to you for rejecting him; and I dare say so is he now," she added saucily, her eyes again dancing with fun.

"I don't doubt it. And now perhaps there'll be a triple wedding after all."

"What are you talking about?" returned Zillah in astonishment; "'tisn't time to be thinking of weddings yet."

"It would be too soon," Mildred said, and went on to explain the occasion of her remark; then said, "But you haven't told me whose was the other offer."

"Oh, can't you guess?" laughed Zillah; "don't you know that the Bald Eagle is still in quest of a mate?"

"Old Nick was it? Now then you must just tell the whole story," Mildred said in a tone of amusement.

"'Twas quite a variation from his offer to you," Zillah answered mirthfully, and went on to give a detailed and amusing account of the walk home and the short colloquy at the gate.

Then bidding good-night she hastened to her own room, shared with Ada, and repeated the story to her, winding up with, "Your turn will come, you may depend upon that; so try to be prepared."

"Small need of preparation," was the cool rejoinder. "But you've had a walk with Wallace since. Won't you tell me what he said."

"I couldn't begin to remember it all, but—Ada, darling, can you spare me to him?"

The last words were spoken in a tremulous half-whisper, her arm about her sister's neck, her lips close to her ear.

"I knew 'twould come to that before long!" sighed Ada, with a hug and a kiss, while tears sprang to her eyes. "O Zillah, dear, I believe my happiest days are over and gone!"

"No! No! no, darling! the very, very sweetest are yet to come! Love will be yours some day as it is mine to-night; and