made up her mind that Mr. Ramy had proposed to Evelina in the wood,
and she was silently preparing herself to receive her sister's
confidence that evening.

But Evelina was apparently in no mood for confidences. When
they reached home she put her faded ferns in water, and after
supper, when she had laid aside her silk dress and the forget-me-
not bonnet, she remained silently seated in her rocking-chair near
the open window. It was long since Ann Eliza had seen her in so
uncommunicative a mood.


The following Saturday Ann Eliza was sitting alone in the shop
when the door opened and Mr. Ramy entered. He had never before
called at that hour, and she wondered a little anxiously what had
brought him.

"Has anything happened?" she asked, pushing aside the
basketful of buttons she had been sorting.

"Not's I know of," said Mr. Ramy tranquilly. "But I always
close up the store at two o'clock Saturdays at this season, so I
thought I might as well call round and see you."

"I'm real glad, I'm sure," said Ann Eliza; "but Evelina's
out."

"I know dat," Mr. Ramy answered. "I met her round de corner.
She told me she got to go to dat new dyer's up in Forty-eighth
Street. She won't be back for a couple of hours, har'ly, will