"Dear Annis, may I ask why it is you have never married?
It must certainly have been your own fault." "Really, I hardly know what reply to make to that last remark," returned Annis, in her sprightly way.

"But I have not the slightest objection to answering your question.

I will tell 'the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.' I have had friends and admirers among the members of the other sex, but have never yet seen the man for love of whom I could for a moment think of leaving father and mother." "How fortunate for them!" Elsie said, with earnest sincerity.

"I know they must esteem it a great blessing that they have been able to keep one dear daughter in the old home." "And I esteem myself blest indeed in having had my dear father and mother spared to me all these years," Annis said, with feeling.

"What a privilege it is, Elsie, to be permitted to smooth, some of the roughnesses from their pathway now in their declining years; to make life even a trifle easier and happier than it might otherwise be to them--the dear parents who so tenderly watched over me in infancy and youth! I know you can appreciate it--you who love your father so devotedly.
"But Cousin Horace is still a comparatively young man, hale and hearty, and to all appearance likely to live many years, while my parents are aged and infirm, and I cannot hope to keep them long." Her voice was husky with emotion as she concluded.
"Dear Annis," Elsie said, pressing tenderly the hand she held in hers, "you are never to lose them.