you see the roll of satin ribbon?"

But Fanny, busy just then with a customer in the outer shop, paid no
attention to the summons. Virginia's new dress could wait--it was a
whole month to graduation day anyhow--but business was not so good
that one could afford to neglect a possible purchaser.

Four summers had gone by since John Blaine's death yet in that
comparatively brief space of time, his widow appeared to have aged ten
years or more. Now bent, infirm, a chronic invalid, she did not look
as if she would long survive him. The world goes on just the same no
matter whose heart is breaking, and time flies so quickly that the
happenings of a decade seem only of yesterday. But John Blaine was not
forgotten. The flowers that each week decorated his grave, placed
there by loving hands, served to keep fresh the father's memory.

As far as was possible, the bereaved wife tried to keep to herself the
sorrow that had slowly but surely undermined her health and made her
an old woman before her hour. In her heart she knew that she would not
long remain after the dear departed one; all she asked was that she
should live long enough to see her girls happily married and taken
care of. At first it had seemed as if existence without him was
impossible, yet the regular routine of life must go on. Besides it was
not fair to the girls. Her own life was irretrievably wrecked, but
theirs had barely begun. It would be selfish to allow her grief to
cast a permanent shadow over their young lives. They loved their
father very dearly; his death had been a great shock to them. But they
were young. They had a thousand outside interests to distract their
attention. And youth, with its gaze still turned upward to the stars,
soon forgets.