`She is all that and more; she's a woman to tie to for life, to be perfectly sure of always. She would make a splendid wife for any man. I'm not half good enough for her; but the question is - and you haven't answered it yet, Polly - what's my chance?'

`I don't know,' said his sister slowly.

`Then I must ask her myself, and I shall do so today.'

`I don't know,' repeated Mrs Ashe. `She is a woman, therefore to be won, and I don't think there is anyone ahead of you. That is the best hope I have to offer, Ned. Katy never talks of such things, and though she's so frank, I can't guess whether or not she ever thinks about them. She likes you, however, I am sure of that. But, Ned, it will not be wise to say anything to her yet.'

`Not say anything! Why not?'

`No. Recollect that it is only a little while since she looked upon you as the admirer of another girl, and a girl she doesn't like very much, though they are cousins. You must give her time to get over that impression. Wait awhile; that's my advice, Ned.'

`I'll wait any time if only she will say yes in the end. But it's hard to go away without a word of hope, and it's more like a man to speak out, it seems to me.'

`It's too soon,' persisted his sister. `You don't want her to think you a fickle fellow, falling in love with a fresh girl every time you go into port, and falling out again when the ship sails. Sailors have a bad reputation for that sort of thing. No woman cares to win a man like that.'

`Great Scott! I should think not! Do you mean to say that is the way my conduct appears to her, Polly?'

`No, I don't mean just that. But wait, dear Ned, I am sure it is better.'

Fortified by this sage counsel, Lieutenant Worthington went away next morning, without saying anything to Katy in words, though perhaps eyes and tones may have been less discreet. He made them promise that someone should send a letter every day about Amy, and as Mrs Ashe frequently devolved the writing of these bulletins upon Katy, and the replies came in the shape of long letters, Katy found herself conducting a pretty regular correspondence without quite intending it. Ned Worthington wrote particularly nice letters. He had the knack, more often found in women than men, of giving a picture with a few graphic touches, and indicating what was droll or what was characteristic with a single happy phrase. His letters grew to be one of Katy's pleasures, and sometimes, as Mrs Ashe watched the colour deepen in her cheeks while she read, her heart would bound hopefully within her. Bud she was a wise woman in her way, and she wanted Katy for a sister very much, so she never said a word or looked a look to startle or surprise her, but left the thing to work itself out, which is the best course always in love affairs.

Little Amy's improvement at Albano was something remarkable. Mrs Swift watched over her like a lynx. Her vigilance never relaxed. Amy was made to eat and sleep and walk and rest with the regularity of a machine, and this exact system, combined with the good air, worked like a charm. The little one gained hour by hour. They could absolutely see her growing fat, her mother declared. Fevers, when they do not kill, operate sometimes as spring bonfires do in gardens, burning up all the refuse and leaving the soil free for the growth of fairer things, and Amy promised in time to be only the better and stronger for her hard experience.

She had gained so much before the time came to start for Florence that they scarcely dreaded the journey, but it proved worse than their expectations. They had not been able to secure a carriage to themselves, and were obliged to share their compartment with two English ladies, and three Roman Catholic priests, one old, the others young. The older priest seemed to be a person of some consequence, for quite a number of people came to see him off, and knelt for his blessing devoutly as the train moved away. The