“Certainly; or, at least, we can make it so.  Either you can take him into your room, or Kitty can give him hers, and come into mine.”

Karl said nothing; but, as they walked toward the house, his face remained unusually serious, and he seemed to be thinking deeply.  Dora glanced at him once or twice, and at last asked abruptly,—­

“Don’t you want Mr. Brown to come, Karl?”

“Certainly, certainly, if you do.  It is your own house, and you have a right to your own guests,” replied the young man coldly.

Dora colored indignantly.

“For shame, Karl!  Did I ever say a thing like that to you in the old house? and would you have been pleased if I had?”

“No, Dolo; and no again.  But you never were a selfish fool, like me.  Yes, I am glad Mr. Brown is coming; and I think I will stay at Greenfield while he is here.  Then he can have my room.”

“No, no:  that won’t do at all.  He comes to see us all; and, of course, we can manage a room without turning you out.  Kitty can come into mine”—­

“Dora, what is the day of the month?”

“The 17th, I believe.”

“Yes, the 17th of August; and seven days more will bring the 24th of August, Dora.”

“Of course.  Do you suppose he will be here by that time?” asked Dora unconsciously.

Karl looked at her in a sort of comic despair.

“Dora, if you were not the most utterly truthful of girls, you would be the most cruel of coquettes.”

Dora’s eyes rose swiftly to his face, read it for a moment, and then fell; while a sudden color dyed her own.

“You remember the date now?” asked Karl, almost mockingly.  “See here!” and, taking from his pocket the memorandum-book of a year before, he opened it to a page bearing only the words,—­

“Dora.  Wednesday, Aug. 24.”

“O Karl!  I thought”—­

“Stop, general!  It is I who must be officer of the day on this occasion; and I forbid one word.  I only wished to let you see that I have not forgotten.  And so Mr. Brown is coming to see us?”

Again Dora glanced in perplexity at her cousin’s face, but, this time, said not a word.  Indeed, if she had wished, there was hardly time; for Kitty, appearing at the door, called,—­

“Come, folks, come!  Supper is ready and cooling.”

“Coming, Kit-kat; and so is somebody else!” cried Karl.

“Somebody?  Christmas is coming, I suppose; but not just yet.  Did you hear that over at Greenfield?” replied Kitty, resting her hands on her brother’s shoulders, and graciously receiving his kiss of greeting.

“It’s not Christmas, but Parson Brown, who is coming; and I brought the news from Greenfield, although I did not know it until I arrived here,” said Karl.

“Oh, a letter to Dora!” exclaimed Kitty quickly; and over her face, a moment before so bright, fell a scowling cloud, as she turned away, and busied herself with putting tea upon the table.