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 are old enough now to have beaux. Dora’s is Ralph Andrews—Jane’s brother. I remember him as a little, round, fat, white-headed fellow who was always at the foot of his class. But I understand he is quite a fine-looking young man now.”

“Dora will probably marry young. She’s of the same type as Charlotta the Fourth—she’ll never miss her first chance for fear she might not get another.”

“Well; if she marries Ralph I hope he will be a little more up-and-coming than his brother Billy,” mused Anne.

“For instance,” said Gilbert, laughing, “let us hope he will be able to propose on his own account. Anne, would you have married Billy if he had asked you himself, instead of getting Jane to do it for him?”

“I might have.” Anne went off into a shriek of laughter over the recollection of her first proposal. “The shock of the whole thing might have hypnotized me into some such rash and foolish act. Let us be thankful he did it by proxy.”

“I had a letter from George Moore yesterday,” said Leslie, from the corner where she was reading.

“Oh, how is he?” asked Anne interestedly, yet with an unreal feeling that she was inquiring about some one whom she did not know.

“He is well, but he finds it very hard to adapt himself to all the changes in his old home and friends. He is going to sea again in the spring. It’s in his