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Rh before he appeared at his aunt's house in the evening.) "We find out how he is getting along with any picture that we specially like, and all sorts of things."

Whatever Miss Loring murmured as she went away, it sounded like, "What a pair of geese!" but it was very certain that she loved Loretta none the less for these so-called foolish marks of understanding what the boy cared for and what amused and comforted him, and she bore with good humor Loretta's little scolding as the two followed Donald and his attendant down the stairs.

"I suppose I never could do that sort of thing, carry it out well, or enjoy it," said Miss Loring, decidedly subdued, and inclined to show real humility. "I don't know what it is about you, Loretta, that makes you different from other people. By the way, there is an old friend of yours coming up to dine to-night,—Dr. Maynard. You shall make the most of him this evening. Aunt Pen has asked him to dinner. The only way I chanced to hear of this first was through having seen Angus. Of course I couldn't pretend before Donald to anything of the sort, because it would have spoiled your little drama with the signals."

"Dr. Maynard!" Loretta's heart fairly stood still. He was her first visitor from The Fenns, and, although she had kept up as close a correspondence as the weather would permit with her relations on the Islands, yet to see one of them, even though it were a man who so rarely lived with them, yet one whom she had known there always, how joyful would this encounter be!

Miss Loring, as they drove the slight distance around the corner to her brother's studio, explained that he would join them later there and come across back to Mrs. Bailey's with them.

The elevator took them easily up the one flight of stairs to Loring's studio, which was a room large enough to satisfy the demands of half a dozen artists, and which perhaps was much more noticeable for its air of luxury, bric-à-brac, and fine hangings than for its mere convenience as a workshop. But, at all events, to Loretta during this winter it had become a place sacred to many hours of what she might have called her growing upward or her receiving new impressions from a Mentor as wise and genial, as keen and anxious to defend her, as ever woman knew. For her the soft Eastern hangings of the room, the divans, the shining polished floor and rugs, the huge fireplace, which was one Loring actually had brought from Holland and set up here, the space where the piano stood, all were no less dearly associated to the girl than the sketches hanging about, or those standing face to the wall which he sometimes permitted her to bring out to the light of day and scrutinize.

And to enter this beloved room and find its master standing at his easel, but ready enough to turn with greetings of all sorts for the party,—this was enough to gladden Loretta's life for many days to come.

Donald had to be made comfortable upon the sofa, and Miss Loring to move about gracefully to detect any novelties in the room, and then Angus and Loretta shook hands and made their special inquiries of each other, which could not be spoken by either of them without some