her. Every girl of eighteen years will readily understand what a flutter
of joyous excitement Barbara and Bettina felt, and how they talked over
the coming event, when they were alone. Finally Bettina asked:--

"Why does Mrs. Douglas do so much for us? How can we ever repay her?"

"We can never repay her, Betty," replied her sister. "Nor does she wish
it. I do not know why she is so kind. She must love us, or,--perhaps it
is because she is so fond of papa. Do you know, Betty, that our father
once saved her life? She told me about it only yesterday, and I did not
think to tell you last night, there was so much to talk about. It was
when she was a little girl of twelve or thirteen years and papa was just
beginning to practise. You know her father was very wealthy, and had
helped him to get his profession because the two families were always so
intimate. Well, Mrs. Douglas was so ill that three or four doctors said
they could do nothing more for her, and she must die. Of course her
father and mother were broken-hearted. And papa went to them, and for
days and nights did not sleep and hardly ate, but was with her every
moment; and the older doctors acknowledged that but for him she could
never have lived.--And, just think! he never said a word about it to
us!"

"Our father never talks of the good and noble things he does," said
Bettina, proudly. "No wonder she loves him; but I do really think she
loves us too. Only the other day Malcom said he should be jealous were
it anybody but you and me. So I think all we can do is to keep on doing
just as we have done, and love her more dearly than ever."

"I wonder if there are any other girls in the world so happy as we
are," she added after a moment's silence--and the two pairs of brown