quiet autumn morning, foggy yet warm, with a dewy, woody sweetness
in the air.

"Before we decide this thing finally," the doctor said, smiling
into her bright face, "before Martin writes his people that it's
settled, I want to ask you to do something. It's something you
won't like to do, my little girl. I want ye to wait a while--wait
a year!"

It was said. He watched the brightness fade from her glowing face,
she lowered her eyes, the line of her mouth grew firm.

"Wait until you're twenty, dear. That's young enough. I've been
planning a full winter for you girls; I wanted to take a house in
town, entertain a little, look up a few friends! You trust me,
Cherry. I only ask you to take a little time--to be sure, dear!"

Silence. She shrugged faintly, blinked the downcast eyes as if
tears stung them.

"I know you don't like Martin, Dad!" she said, tremulously.

"No, no, my darling--you mustn't say that!" he said, in distress.
"I like him very much--I think he's a thoroughly fine fellow! I
could wish--just with an old father's selfishness--that he was a
neighbour, that he didn't plan to take you away entirely. That's
natural, before I give him the thing I hold most precious in the
world. And that's just it, Cherry. Wait a year or two, and perhaps
it will be possible to establish him here near us. You'll have a
little money, dear, and Martin says himself that he would much