"Well, then, can't I join your class?"
"Oh, no, we are all girls, and you'll make us so bashful we wouldn't dare say anything."
"I think Mr. Atwood had better go with us to the chapel, accepting the conditions on which we first attended," suggested Mrs. Jocelyn. "If he is pleased, as we were, he can then act accordingly."
"Yes, come," cried Belle, who had resumed at once her old companionable and mirthful relations with Roger. "I'll go with you, so you won't feel strange or afraid. I want you to understand," she continued, as they passed down the quaint old hallway, "that we belong to the aristocracy. Since this is the oldest house in town, we surely should be regarded as one of the old families."
"By what magic were you able to make so inviting a home in such a place?" he asked.
"Oh, that's Millie's work," she replied.
"I might have known that," he said, and a sudden shadow crossed his face. Quickly as it passed away, she saw it.
"Yes," she resumed in a low, earnest tone—for she had no scruple in fanning the flame of his love which she more than half believed might yet be rewarded—"Millie is one of a million. She will be our main dependence, I fear. She is so strong and sensible."
"Is—is not Mr. Jocelyn well?" he asked apprehensively.
"I fear he isn't well at all," she answered with some despondency. "He is sleeping now; he always rests Sunday afternoon, and we try to let him rest all he can. He sleeps, or rather dozes, a great deal, and seems losing his strength and energy," and she spoke quite frankly concerning their plans, projects, and hopes. She believed in Roger, and knew him to be a sincere friend, and it was her nature to be very outspoken where she had confidence. "If Millie can learn thoroughly what she is now studying," she concluded, "I think we can get along."