What Dora said.

It had been Dora’s intention to return to Iowa immediately after leaving Sunshine in charge of her own friends; but Mrs. Legrange insisted so urgently upon her remaining with them for some weeks at least, and the parting with the dear child she had so loved and cherished seemed so cruel as it drew nearer and nearer, that she finally consented to remain for a short time, and removed to the Neff House, where Mrs. Legrange had engaged rooms until the first of October.

To other natures than those called to encounter it, the relation between these three might, for a time at least, have been painful and perplexing; but Mrs. Legrange was possessed of such exquisite tact, Sunshine of such abounding and at the same time delicate affections, and Dora of such a noble and generous temper, that they could not but harmonize:  and while ’Toinette bloomed, flower-like, into new and wonderful beauty bathed in the sunlight of a double love, Mrs. Legrange never forgot to associate Dora with herself as its source.  And Dora joyed in her darling’s joy; and, if her heart ached at thought of the coming loneliness, the pain expressed itself no otherwise than in an added tenderness.

“That is a noble girl, Fanny,” said Mr. Burroughs one day.  “How different from our dear five hundred friends at home!  Put Mary Elmsly, or Lizzy Patterson, or Miss Bloomsleigh, or Marion Lee, in her place, and how would they fill it?”

“She is, indeed, a noble girl,” replied his cousin warmly.  “I never shall forget the tender and wise care she has taken of Sunshine in this last year.  She has strengthened heart and principle as I am afraid I could never have done.”

“Paul is coming out for you, isn’t he?” pursued Mr. Burroughs after a pause.

“Yes:  he will be here by the 20th.  Why did you ask?”

“Because Dora cannot travel home alone, and I think of accompanying her.  I may stay a while, and study prairie life.”

Mrs. Legrange looked at him in surprise a moment; and then a merry smile broke over her face, for such a smile was possible now to her.

“Capital!” exclaimed she.  “I never thought of it.  But why not?”

“Why not spend a few weeks in Iowa?  Well, of course, why not?” asked Mr. Burroughs a little grimly, and presently added,—­

“That is a pernicious custom of yours Fanny,—­that rushing at conclusions.”

“Men never rush at conclusions, do they?”

“No:  of course not.”

“Very well, then:  arrive at your conclusion as leisurely as you like.  It is none the less certain.”

“Pshaw!” remarked Mr. Burroughs; and as his cousin laughingly turned to bend over Sunshine, and help her read her story-book, he took his hat and went out, turning his steps toward the glen.