THE DREAM AND THE REALITY At the upper station a little group stood awaiting her, and as the train pulled slowly to the platform, Gabriella distinguished her mother's pallid face framed in the hanging crape of her veil; Jane, thin, anxious, anmic, with her look of pinched sweetness; Chancy, florid, portly, and virtuously middle-aged, and their eldest daughter Margaret, a blooming, beautiful girl.

Alighting, Gabriella was embraced by Mrs.
Carr, who shed a few gentle tears on her shoulders.
"Gabriella, my child, I thought you would never come back to us," she lamented; "and now everything is so changed that you will hardly recognize it as home." "Well, if she can find a change that isn't for the better, I hope she'll point it out and let me make a note of it," boasted Charley, with hilarity.

"I tell you what, Gabriella, my dear, we're becoming a number one city.

Everything's new.

We haven't left so much as an old brick lying around if we could help it.