Under the Big Dipper

on her coat and opening Helène’s door she looked in and called out smilingly: “I’ll sit up for you, dear.” Before Helène could reply the door had been closed and Margaret was running down the stairs.

Helène heard the front door slam and knew that she would have to face the coming ordeal alone. How she dreaded the announcement of Mr. Morton’s arrival! Mrs. Kane would draw her own conclusion immediately. The new dress, the flowers, the elaborate preparations—well, Mrs. Kane must think what she liked! It could not be helped now. To-morrow would be the twenty-first of September—the last day of summer. She glanced at the royal roses crowding the vase, their heads proudly erect as if in challenge to the world. Then her eyes fell on the sweet purple of the violets on the table—“The last rose of summer,” she murmured; “but the violet is blue—true blue.”

Her watch told her that it was still some minutes

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