inside as out."

"I am quite satisfied, Papa, thank you," said Katy, looking up with a
happy smile from Ned's letter, which she had torn open first of all. "Are
you going, dear?" She laid her packages down to help him on with his coat.
Katy never forgot her father.

"Yes, I am going. Time and rheumatism wait for no man. You can tell me
your news when I come back."

It is not fair to peep into love letters, so I will only say of Ned's that
it was very long, very entertaining,--Katy thought,--and contained the
pleasant information that the "Natchitoches" was to sail four days after
it was posted, and would reach New York a week sooner than any one had
dared to hope. The letter contained several other things as well, which
showed Katy how continually she had been in his thoughts,--a painting on
rice paper, a dried flower or two, a couple of little pen-and-ink sketches
of the harbor of Santa Lucia and the shipping, and a small cravat of an
odd convent lace folded very flat and smooth. Altogether it was a
delightful letter, and Katy read it, as it were, in leaps, her eyes
catching at the salient points, and leaving the details to be dwelt upon
when she should be alone.

This done, she thrust the letter into her pocket, and proceeded to examine
the others. The first was in Cousin Helen's clear, beautiful
handwriting:--

DEAR KATY,--If any one had told us ten years ago that in this
particular year of grace you would be getting ready to be
married, and I preparing to come to your wedding, I think we