What in the world are you ever going to do with all those tidies? The speaker was a girl of sixteen—a fair, bright creature, with dancing eyes, and that alert expression which we find on the faces of those to whom the future is an interesting and exciting puzzle which they long to solve. She was watching with curious interest the absorption of her sister, who knelt before a half-packed trunk, studying the disposal of packages so as to solve that old problem, "How to get twice as much into a trunk as it will reasonably hold." She made no answer to the young questioner, having just taken up a closely written sheet of paper, the contents of which absorbed her attention. The question was repeated. "Louise, what do you expect to do with all those tidies?" "Put them on chairs and sofas—" with a far-away expression and dreamy tone, and eyes only for the paper before her. The young girl laughed slightly, then her face grew sober. "Louise," she said, hesitating as one who might be on doubtful ground, "has Lewis told you anything about his home and its surroundings?" "Somewhat, dear—" still only half attending to the speaker. "Well, Addie Dunlop says they live very plainly indeed. She visits the Wheelers, you know, in that vicinity, and she was at their house on two different occasions. She says it is quite isolated from neighbours, and is a regular country farmhouse." This brought a laugh. "What would you have a country farmhouse but a country farmhouse?" "Oh well, Louise, you know what I mean." If she did she kept the knowledge in silence; and her young sister, after regarding her with a curious look for a moment, drew a heavy sigh.