The lovely Indian summer was over, and Thanksgiving Day passed happily. It was a great time for Marian, for Miss Dorothy was home for several days and together they planned the book of photographs to be sent to Marian's father. "I think it would better go in ample time," said Miss Dorothy, "for at Christmas time there will be such budgets going that we must be sure to get ours in before the rush begins. I should give it two or three weeks anyhow, and even if it does get there too soon, that will be better than too late."

"Don't you think it is time I was getting an answer to my letter?" asked Marian.

"It is high time, but perhaps your father has been away, and has not had his mail forwarded."

And indeed that was exactly the way of it as was proved the very next day when the morning's mail brought Marian her long-looked-for
letter. She trembled with excitement when Mr. Robbins placed it in her hands, and her eyes eagerly sought Miss Dorothy. "Won't you go with me somewhere and read it to me?" she whispered.

Miss Dorothy hesitated. "Perhaps your father has written it for your eyes alone."

"But suppose I can't read it."

"Well, then we'll go to my room and you can open it there. If you can't read it I'll help you out. Will that do?"

"Oh, yes, thank you, dearest Miss Dorothy." Marian had learned from Patty to use many endearing terms.

They went up-stairs to the pleasant front room with its pretty paper and hangings of roses on a creamy ground, and by the window they sat down while Marian carefully opened the envelope. As she unfolded the sheet of paper it held, something fell out in her lap. "It is a photograph of papa," she cried as she picked it up. "I never had one of my very own, and see, Miss Dorothy, the letter is typewritten so I can read it quite easily, but please sit by me while I see what he says."

It was a long, loving letter in which the writer spoke of the pleasure it had been to him to hear from his little daughter, of how her accounts of her daily life had taken him back to his own childhood, and of how often he thought of her and longed to see her. "If I thought it best, my dear little daughter," he said, "I should not let the ocean roll between us, though some day I hope you can come to me if I may not go to you." There were many more things, entertaining descriptions of the places to which he had lately been, accounts of his doings and his friends, the whole ending with a request that Marian would write as often as she could. As she finished the closing lines Marian held out the letter to Miss Dorothy. "Do read it," she said. "I know he would not care. There isn't anything in it that you mustn't see. I'd like you to read it out loud to me, Miss Dorothy; I can't quite get the sense of it myself." So Miss Dorothy did as she was requested and agreed with Marian that it was a very nice letter, that her father did love her, and that the reason he did not come home was because he felt he would not be welcome.

After this it was an all-important matter to get the photographs ready to send and to write a letter in answer to the one Marian had just received. Patty was very much interested in the photographs, for besides those taken in Greenville of Marian and the cats in the garden, of Marian at school, in the sitting-room with her grandparents, in her own room and in Mrs. Hunt's kitchen, there were a number taken in Revell where various members of the Robbins family appeared and where Patty herself was always a conspicuous figure. But the very last one was of Marian alone with arms outstretched and face upheld for a kiss. Under it was written, "A hug and kiss for you, dear papa, when you come back to your little Marian." This was the child's own idea, and Miss Dorothy carried it out as well as she could.

"Just think," Marian said to Patty, "how much better I know my papa, and I shall keep on knowing him better and better."

"Shall you show your grans the photographs, and the one of him?" asked Patty.

"Yes," returned Marian thoughtfully, "Miss Dorothy thinks I ought to, and that I shall
have to tell about my writing to him. I think grandma will be glad, and maybe grandpa will be, too, though he won't say so."

Miss Dorothy overhearing this wise remark, smiled. She quite believed that both Mr. and Mrs. Otway would be glad.

As the days were getting both colder and shorter Miss Dorothy decided that, for the present at least, she must give up coming home every week, and must wait till the Christmas holidays before seeing her family again. On the day she announced this she said also that Mrs. Otway had said that Marian had stayed away long enough. Miss Almira Belt was getting better and her sister could now help with the sewing, especially as a niece was coming to help her, so as Marian needed a new frock she must come home the following Monday with Miss Dorothy. Mrs. Hunt had said she was longing for a sight of her chickadee, Mr. Otway had remarked that it would be pleasant to hear a child's voice in the house once again, and so Marian must go.

Patty was in tears at this news, and Marian herself looked very sorry. "Don't you want to go?" asked Miss Dorothy. "Tippy and Dippy
are very anxious to see you and so is Rosamond. I saw her sitting in your room all alone the other day, and she looked very forlorn." Rosamond was Marian's big doll. "I told Ruth you were coming back, and she said: 'Good, good. Give my love to her and tell her I am crazy to see her. I've had the whooping-cough and I'm not a bit afraid of her.' Then, too," Miss Dorothy bent her head and whispered: "Some one who has the room next yours misses you very much and longs for her little neighbor."

Marian smiled at this, but at sight of Patty's tears grew grave again. "If I could take Patty with me," she said, "I should not mind it a bit."

"Maybe Patty can come some time. Mrs. Hunt asked me to bring her and to let her make a little visit there at her house, so we will think of it later on."

This was so pleasant a prospect that Patty brightened up, and though at parting she could not be comforted, Marian went away rather happier than she expected. There would be some excitement in getting back. She would go to see Mrs. Hunt very often, and perhaps Ruth Deering would come to see her, or her grand
mother would let her spend an afternoon with Ruth sometimes. Mrs. Otway approved of Ruth, she remembered. But here the thought of Patty came up, and Marian realized that no one could take Patty's place, dear, bright, funny, affectionate Patty, who had been so generous and loving, though she did fly into a temper sometimes and say things she was sorry for afterward. She had tried to help Marian with her writing and had encouraged her so that now Marian could form her letters very well and need not be ashamed when she went back to school. Then, too, Patty had pressed upon her a favorite book of fairy tales which they had read together and which had been the groundwork of many delightful plays. Oh, no, there was nobody like Patty.

Yet as Marian walked with Miss Dorothy up the familiar street, she felt that it was not bad to get back again. There was Mrs. Hunt watching out for her at the gate, to give her a tremendous hug and many kisses. There was Miss Hepzibah Toothacre, "pleasant as pie," at the door to welcome back the child. "Here she is," cried Heppy, and from his study rushed grandpa,
from the sitting-room issued grandma, both eager to get to Marian first. "Heigho, heigho, little girl," said grandpa, "it is good to get you back again."

"Well, my dear, how are you? Come kiss grandma," came from Mrs. Otway, and Marian, pleased and surprised, felt that home was not such a bad place after all.

Then there were Dippy and Tippy, and also a surprise, for Heppy mysteriously led the way to the wood-shed which was just outside the kitchen, and what should Marian see there but three new baby kittens with Tippy proudly rubbing and purring around. Marian was on her knees before them in a minute, and had picked out the prettiest to cuddle. "Oh, if I might only keep this one," she said, "and perhaps we could find homes for the others."

"I guess Mis' Otway ain't goin' to allow three cats under foot," said Heppy discouragingly. And indeed when Marian made her request to keep one of the kittens she was straightway denied.

"You may keep two cats," said Mrs. Otway, "but no more will I have. If you choose to get
rid of one of the larger ones and keep the little kitten I have no objection, bu............