"That's true. Well, I suppose, then, we'd better not tell him now.
But, oh! Tom, how I wish I could stay up with the B. B.'s to-night."

"No; girls must always stay in nights. I've always thought it a great
pity you could not be a boy, Gem. But it can't be helped now.
Remember, if I fling a stone up, it will mean that we want something,
and you must be sure to get it."

Aunt Faith spent the evening in the sitting-room busily engaged in her
fancy work. On the piazza, Sibyl and Mr. Leslie talked in low tones,
and now and then she caught a word or two which seemed to indicate the
serious character of the conversation. "I fear I am doing wrong to
allow it," she thought; "there is no doubt in my mind as to John
Leslie's liking for Sibyl, and the child is so worldly! Still, what
can I do? The way in which he put aside my little endeavors this
afternoon and walked boldly into the very danger! It certainly looks
as though he was not afraid of anything, and, to tell the truth, I do
not think he is. I shall have to let him take care of himself; he
looks fully able to do it," and Aunt Faith smiled at her own
discomfiture, as a vision of the clergyman's resolute face and broad
shoulders rose before her eyes.

Later in the evening Bessie came in and slipped into the sofa corner
by her aunt's side.

"How flushed you are," said Aunt Faith, stroking the young girl's
cheek; "do you feel quite well, dear?"

"Oh yes, auntie," said Bessie with downcast eyes; "the evening is