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In another week Eden was finished. Miss Sally stood in the tiny hall and looked about her.

“Well, it is done,” she said with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I have enjoyed fixing it up tremendously, and now I feel that my occupation is gone. I hope you are satisfied, Willard.”

“Satisfied is too mild a word, Miss Sally. I am delighted. I knew you could accomplish wonders, but I never hoped for this. Eden is a dream–the dearest, quaintest, sweetest little home that ever waited for a bride. When I bring her here–oh, Miss Sally, do you know what that thought means to me?”

Miss Sally looked curiously at the young man. His face was flushed and his voice trembled a little. There was a far-away shining look in his eyes as if he saw a vision.

“I hope you and she will be happy,” said Miss Sally slowly. “When will she be coming, Willard?”

The flush went out of Willard’s face, leaving it pale and determined.

“That is for her–and you–to say,” he answered steadily.

“Me!” exclaimed Miss Sally. “What have I to do with it?”

“A great deal–for unless you consent she will never come here at all.”

“Willard Stanley,” said Miss Sally, with ominous calm, “who is the girl you mean to marry?”

“The girl I hope to marry is Joyce, Miss Sally. Wait–don’t say anything till you hear me out.” He came close to her and caught her hands in a boyish grip. “Joyce and I have loved each other ever since we met. But we despaired of winning your consent, and Joyce will not marry me without it. I thought if I could get you to help me fix up my little home that you might get so interested in it–and so well acquainted with me–that you would trust me with Joyce. Please do, Miss Sally. I love her so truly and I know I can make her happy. If you don’t, Eden shall never have a mistress. I’ll shut it up, just as it is, and leave it sacred to the dead hope of a bride that will never come to it.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t,” protested Miss Sally. “It would be a shame–such a dear little house–and after all the trouble I’ve taken. But you have tricked me–oh, you men couldn’t be straightforward in anything–“

“Wasn’t it a fair device for a desperate lover, Miss Sally?” interrupted Willard. “Oh, you mustn’t hold spite because of it, dear; And you will give me Joyce, won’t you? Because if you don’t, I really will shut up Eden forever.”

Miss Sally looked wistfully around her. Through the open door on her left she saw the little living room with its quaint, comfortable furniture, its dainty pictures and adornments. Through the front door she saw the trim, velvet-swarded little lawn. Upstairs were two white rooms that only wanted a woman’s living presence to make them jewels. And the kitchen on which she had expended so much thought and ingenuity–the kitchen furnished to the last detail, even to the kindling in the range and the match Willard had laid ready to light it! It gave Miss Sally a pang to think of that altar fire never being lighted. It was really the thought of the kitchen that finished Miss Sally.

“You’ve tricked me,” she said again reproachfully. “You’ve tricked me into loving this house so much that I cannot bear the thought of it never living. You’ll have to have Joyce, I suppose. And I believe I’m glad that it isn’t a stranger who is to be the mistress of Eden. Joyce won’t hanker after pink rugs and lace curtains. And her taste in china is the same as mine. In one way it’s a great relief to my mind. But it’s a fearful risk–a fearful risk. To think that you may make my dear child miserable!”