whose acquaintance is very undesirable. It is true he belongs to a fine family, but he is their thorn in the flesh. He is a drunkard and a gambler, and his associates are among the most reprobate. Two or three times I have been called to bring him out of a state bordering upon delirium tremens. A physician is not supposed to give away the weaknesses of his patients," he interposed, in a deprecatory tone, "but under existing circumstances I feel justified in saying what I have said."

"I had a suspicion that he might not be desirable," Katherine returned, and feeling deeply disturbed, for she was sure the man had followed Sadie for no good purpose. "I never met him but once, and then under rather peculiar circumstances. I thank you for telling me about him, for, although I may never see him again, it may prove a warning to some one whom I know who has seen more of him."

They had almost reached the station by this time, and a warning whistle told them that the inward-bound train was near at hand.

There was just time for Dr. Stanley to get his ticket, take a hurried leave of his fair companion, and then board his car, waving a last adieu.

The girl stood watching the train as it rolled from the station, a soft radiance in her large brown eyes, a happy smile parting her red lips; while the physician bore away with him the mental picture of a dainty little lady in pale yellow, her beautiful face looking out at him from beneath a most becoming shade hat, one slender hand holding aloft a white ruffled parasol surmounted by a gleaming satin bow.

CHAPTER XIX.

MRS. SEABROOK TAKES A STAND.

On her way back, after Dr. Stanley's departure, Katherine stopped at the house of a friend to make a call.

She found her in a pavilion that flanked a corner of the veranda, and with her some other young people, all of whom were busily engaged with the new fad of basket making. They were just on the point of having light refreshments and heartily welcomed her to their circle, where the time slipped unheeded by until a clock, somewhere, striking the half hour after twelve, warned her that lunch at home would soon be served, and Sadie, even now, must be wondering what had become of her.

But when she reached home the girl was nowhere to be found. It was after one o'clock and lunch waiting when she finally came slowly up the hill, which sloped to the beach behind the house, and Katherine was sure, from her flushed cheeks and reddened lids, that she had been crying.

There was no opportunity for any confidential conversation during the meal, for the waitress was in the room, and, after making a very light repast, Sadie observed she "reckoned she'd go take a nap," and abruptly leaving the table, disappeared.

Katharine was deeply thoughtful while finishing her lunch. "He has been here," she said to herself as she folded and slipped her napkin into its ring; then, with a resolute uplifting of her head, she followed Sadie upstairs and tapped upon her door. "Please excuse me for a little while, honey," came the response from within, but in unnatural tones.

"But, Sadie, I am sure that something is troubling you; and, besides, I have an item of important news to tell you," her friend persisted.

"Well, then, come," was the reluctant reply, and Katherine entered, to find the girl, as she had surmised, in tears.

"I knew it, dear," she said, going to her side. "I was sure you were grieving about something, and I believe that Ned Willard is the cause of it. I saw him this morning when I was out with Dr. Stanley."

"You did! He didn't say that he had seen you," exclaimed Sadie, in astonishment. Then, realizing how she had committed herself, she colored a vivid scarlet and fell to weeping afresh.

"Ah! then he has been here!" said Katherine. "I thought so, when you came in to lunch." There was a moment of awkward silence, then she resumed: "Sadie, I do not wish to force your confidence, but I am going to tell you frankly what is on my mind, and I hope you will feel it is only my friendship for you that impels me to say it. I noticed, for a long time before school closed, that you were not yourself, that you were depressed and unhappy, and I was confident that Mr. Willard was the cause of it; that it was on his account you refused to go to Europe with your guardian. It even seemed to me that you were almost on the point of taking some step, doing something rash, from which you instinctively shrank, and when I asked you to come home with me you seized the opportunity as a loophole of escape. Of course, I have not been blind and I have suspected that certain letters which have come to you here were from Mr. Willard, and when I saw him to-day I feared he had followed you and would make you 'wretched' again. I did not know him at first, but he recognized me and spoke to me."

She paused irresolute for a moment, then continued:

"I am going to tell you all, Sadie, for I know it is right you should learn the truth. Dr. Stanley looked amazed when Mr. Willard spoke to me, and inquired, if I knew the man. I told him I had simply been introduced to him, and he said, 'He is a person whose acquaintance is very undesirable; he is a drunkard and a gambler; he belongs to a good family, but he is their thorn in the flesh, because of his dissolute ways.' Perhaps this sounds harsh, even unkind to you, but I am trying to do by you as I would by my own sister if I had one. I don't want you to spoil your life, Sadie."

The girl had been growing more composed during Katherine's revelations, and when she concluded she sat up on the bed, threw her handkerchief away and faced her.

"I am glad that you have told me this, Katherine," she said, drawing a deep breath, "and I have longed, ever since I came to this 'house of peace'--for it has been that to me--to tell you this secret that has been eating my heart out. I did continue to meet Ned on the sly, even after I promised you, last spring, that I would not. I wrote him, as I told you I would, about going to Mr. Farnsworth and doing the square thing; but he only laughed at me and still insisted upon seeing me the same as ever. I--I really am fond of him, honey," she confessed, a vivid blush suffusing her face. "Ned has good qualities, in spite of his faults. I know that he has been in the habit of drinking some, but we Southerners don't mind that as much as you Northerners do. I--I didn't know about his gambling--that seems dreadful. I know he thinks the world of me, for when my guardian said he was going to take me to Europe he was perfectly wild about it; so that is why I gave it up. Then he wanted--oh! Katherine! how can I tell you--"and the scarlet face went down upon the pillow again.

"Yes, dear, I suspected it--I almost knew that he wanted you to marry him secretly, and you came very near consenting--would have taken the irrevocable step perhaps if I had not asked you to come with me," gently interposed her friend.

"Katherine! What made you think that?" and the girl started up again, amazed.

"Oh! several things; your fits of abstraction, your 'homesickness,' your 'wretchedness,' and the remarkable reaction that followed your acceptance of my invitation."

"Well, honey, it was true, and I shall always love you for saving me from that, for I knew it was wrong. I was beginning to get my eyes open a little, though, and to feel that Ned should not have asked me to marry him in any such way; but I hardly knew which way to turn," Sadie confessed, with downcast eyes.

"Of course, I am glad to have you with me; but perhaps going to Europe would have been the better plan. It would have taken you out of his way," Katherine thoughtfully observed.

"I couldn't leave--I--I didn't want to," faltered her companion, and Katherine sighed as she saw that there was an even stronger attachment here than she had suspected.

"He has been trying to persuade me to--to go away with him ever since I came here," Sadie resumed, and evidently determined to keep nothing back; "and to-day he came upon me suddenly while you were away, and he wasn't very kind"--her lips quivered painfully over those last words; "but," she presently went on, "since I have been here many things have begun to seem different to me, and I had made up my mind to go back to school and do my very best next year; but if Ned is going to keep on bothering me like this, I shall be wretched."

"If he comes again I think we will have to let papa deal with him," said Katherine, gravely.

"Oh! I wouldn't have your father or mother know anything about it for the world," cried Sadie, in distress. "I begin to feel ashamed of the whole affair myself, and I would not marry him on the sly now for anything. But he claims that I am pledged to him, and says he will make trouble for me if I try to dodge him," and the girl nervously twisted a diamond ring; which she wore on the first finger of her left hand.

"There is nothing to prevent you from releasing yourself from any such rash pledge if you choose to do so," said Katharine. Then she asked: "Is that your engagement ring, dear?"

"Yes; but I haven't dared to wear it on the right finger, for I didn't want anyone to know," she admitted, with a blush of shame.

Katherine leaned forward and smiled fondly into her eyes.

"You understand, I am sure, that I do not wish to meddle in an affair of this kind; but if you will allow me. I would advise you to return that ring at once. Tell Mr. Willard that you revoke your promise to him, and that henceforth he is to leave you unmolested. Think it over, Sadie, and I am sure your own good judgment will tell you this would be the wiser course. Now I will leave you to