"Alec," she said, with the straightforwardness of sixteen, "that means a lot to you, doesn't it, that she should write that she is 'sincerely your friend'?"
"Yes," he answered, honestly; "a very great deal."
"Do you suppose it would stand in the way, sometime, when you are older, you know, and have made a place for yourself in the world, her knowing about—about father?"
"I don't know, Flip," he answered, slowly; "I've often wondered about that."
Through the open door came Aunt Eunice's voice, singing jubilantly:
"I know not what the future hath
Of marvel or surprise,
Assured alone that life and death
His mercy underlies."
"How that old hymn answers everything!" Alec said, softly. "No matter what lies ahead, it's all right now. God's at the helm, little sister! I shall find all the 'islands' he has set for me."
THE END.