"It reminds me of Combe Manor," I said, and there was something wet
on my cheek as I spoke; "and oh, Allan! how I shall miss you to-morrow,"
and I touched his coat sleeve furtively, for Allan was not
one to love demonstration. But, to my surprise, he gave me a kind
little pat.

"Not more than I shall miss you," he returned, cheerily. "We always
get along well, you and I, don't we, little woman?" And as I nodded
my head, for something seemed to impede my utterance at that moment,
he went on more seriously, "You have a tough piece of work before
you, Esther, you and Carrie; you will have to put your Combe Manor
pride in your pockets, and summon up all your Cameron strength of
mind before you learn to submit to the will of strangers.

"Our poor, pretty Carrie," he continued, regretfully; "the little
saint, as Uncle Geoffrey used to call her. I am afraid her work will
not be quite to her mind, but you must smoothe her way as much as
possible; but there, I won't preach on my last evening; let me have
your plans instead, my dear."

But I had no plans to tell him, and so we drifted by degrees into
Allan's own work; and as he told me about the hospital and his
student friends, and the great bustling world in which we lived, I
forgot my own cares. If I had not much of a life of my own to lead, I
could still live in his.

The pleasure of this talk lingered long in my memory; it was so nice
to feel that Allan and I understood each other so well and had no
divided interests; it always seems to me that a sister ought to dwell