a sort of dishonesty, in my opinion. I suppose I do carry it to an
extreme in minor matters, but it is better to do that than to cause
other people needless anxiety and trouble."

Miss Barbara was mounted on her hobby now, and she ambled vigorously
along until Amy, with a sigh of relief, announced that she heard wheels.
Amy had heard Cousin Barbara's views more than once, when a missing shoe
button, a torn glove, or an unanswered note, claimed immediate
attention.

"Remember, Judith," said Miss Barbara, at parting, "if anything should
happen to make it possible for you to go to Washington, be sure and let
me know. I want to arrange for you to stop with me a week on your way."
But even as Judith spoke her thanks, she shook her head. She had stopped
building air-castles.

Winter came early to Westbrooke. Mrs. Allen ran over occasionally with a
letter from Marguerite, who was an erratic correspondent, sometimes
sending interesting daily bulletins of sixteen or twenty pages,
sometimes breaking a month's silence by only a postal card. They rarely
heard from Miss Barbara, but, one snowy day late in January, Amy dashed
in from the post-office with a letter to Judith, addressed in her
unmistakable precise little hand. She wrote:

"The new year began for me with a great pleasure, Judith dear. An
old bill, which I had been unable to collect for so long that I
crossed it off my books two years ago, was paid very unexpectedly,
and I feel as if I had fallen heir to a dukedom.

"It is enough to enable you to make your visit to Washington and to